Pathway to Japanese Literature

What follows was one story from that *Liaozhai Zhiyi*.
The original text consisted of 1,834 characters - even when transcribed onto our standard 400-character manuscript paper, it amounted to barely four and a half sheets, an exceedingly brief fragment. Yet as one read, myriad imaginings welled up within them, until they felt the same sense of fulfillment as when finishing an excellent short story spanning some thirty pages.
I want to set down in writing, just as they are, the myriad imaginings that cling to this four-and-a-half-sheet fragment.
Whether such methods truly constitute the proper path of literary creation may invite debate, but I considered the tales within *Liaozhai Zhiyi* to resemble local folklore more than classical literature. Thus, even if twentieth-century Japanese writers took these ancient stories as their framework, arranged wayward imaginings within them, and presented such works to readers as original creations imbued with their own sentiments, I could not deem this a profound transgression.
My new approach too seemed to amount to nothing more than excavating romanticism.

Long ago in Edo, near Mukōjima, there lived a man by the trivial name of Saishinosuke Uma.
He was dreadfully poor.
He was thirty-two years old and unmarried.
He liked chrysanthemum flowers.
If he heard that good chrysanthemum seedlings existed somewhere, no matter what unreasonable measures he took, he would invariably purchase them.
Since it was recorded that he "would not hesitate to travel a thousand miles," one could understand they were truly exceptional.
In early autumn, upon hearing that there were excellent seedlings near Numazu in Izu, he immediately prepared for travel and set out with a changed countenance.
He crossed Hakone's mountains, arrived in Numazu, searched every direction, and at last managed to obtain one or two splendid seedlings. Wrapping them in oiled paper like precious treasures, he set off homeward with a self-satisfied smirk.
As he crossed Hakone's mountains once more and Odawara town spread out below him, the clopping sound of horse hooves reached his ears from behind.
At an easy gait, the clopping of hooves maintained the same interval as him indefinitely - neither drawing closer nor falling behind, continuing unchanged.
Saishinosuke was so elated at having obtained superior chrysanthemum seedlings that he paid no mind to such trivialities as the sound of a horse’s hooves.
However, even after passing Odawara and traveling two ri, three ri, four ri, the clopping of hooves continued following at the same interval.
Saishinosuke too, for the first time, began to think this strange. When he turned to look, a beautiful boy was riding an oddly emaciated horse and walking not ten ken away from him.
Upon seeing Saishinosuke’s face, he suddenly smiled.
Thinking it improper to keep pretending not to notice, Saishinosuke also came to a brief halt and smiled back.
The boy approached and dismounted from the horse.

“It’s lovely weather, isn’t it?” he said.

“It’s lovely weather.”
Saishinosuke agreed.

The boy led the horse and began walking at a leisurely pace.
Saishinosuke walked shoulder to shoulder with the boy.
Upon closer inspection, though the boy seemed not to be of samurai lineage, his bearing carried an air of refinement and his clothing remained neatly arranged.
His demeanor was composed and dignified.

“Are you heading to Edo?” came the question in an overly familiar tone, and Saishinosuke found himself relaxing in response.

“Yes, I’m returning to Edo.”

“You’re from Edo, then. And where might you be returning from?” Traveler’s tales follow a set pattern. They asked and answered in turn until finally Saishinosuke related the entire purpose of this journey. The boy’s eyes suddenly lit up: “I see. That you love chrysanthemums—how admirable. When it comes to chrysanthemums, I too have some modest understanding. Chrysanthemums depend more on how you care for them than the quality of seedlings.” He said this and went on to briefly explain his own cultivation methods. The chrysanthemum-obsessed Saishinosuke immediately became engrossed,

“Is that so?
“I still believe the seedlings must be of good quality.
“For example, you see—” he began to expound the extensive knowledge of chrysanthemums he had long harbored.
The boy didn’t openly oppose him, but within those simple questions he occasionally interjected, one could sense an extraordinary depth of experience. The more fervently Saishinosuke spoke, the more his confidence crumbled, until his voice finally took on a tearful edge.

“I won’t say anything more.”
“Theories are ridiculous!”
“In reality, there’s nothing for it but to show you the chrysanthemum flowers I’ve cultivated.”

“That may be true.”
The boy nodded calmly.
Saishinosuke felt utterly frustrated.
He squirmed restlessly, wanting by any means to show this boy his garden’s chrysanthemums and make him gasp in amazement.

“Then, how about this?”
Saishinosuke had already lost all reason.
“Would you come straight to my house in Edo with me?
“Just one glance—I want you to see my chrysanthemums.
“I must insist you do this.”

The boy laughed,

“We are not in such a position to be carefree.”
“We must now go to Edo and find work.”

“That matters not.”
Saishinosuke had already mounted the tiger with no retreat.
“First come rest at my house properly. It won’t be too late to search afterward.”
“In any event, you absolutely must see my chrysanthemums at least once.”

“This has turned into quite a predicament.”
The boy no longer laughed; assuming a solemn expression, he sank into thought.
After walking in silence for a while, he suddenly looked up and said, “Actually, we are from Numazu. My name is Tōhon Saburō. I lost my parents early on and have lived alone with my sister.”
“Lately, my sister has suddenly taken a dislike to Numazu and insists we must go to Edo, so we’ve tidied up all our belongings and are now on our way there.”
“Even if we go to Edo, we have no particular aim there, and when I think about it, it’s a disheartening journey.”
“It was not a situation where we could have leisurely debated about chrysanthemums.”
“I don’t dislike chrysanthemums either, so I ended up talking more than I should have.”
“Let’s stop here.”
“Please, you must forget this as well.”
“With this, I bid you farewell.”
“When I think about it, we are in no position to be concerned with chrysanthemums now,” he said in a lonely tone, bowed politely, and attempted to mount the horse beside him, but Saishinosuke firmly grasped the boy’s sleeve.

“Wait, I implore you.”
“In that case, you must by all means come to my house.”
“Do not fret.”
“I may be terribly poor, but I can take care of you all.”
“Well, enough of that. Just leave it to me.”
“You said your sister was coming too—where is she?”

When he looked around, he realized—though he hadn’t noticed it before—that there was a girl in red travel attire faintly visible in the shadow of the emaciated horse.
Saishinosuke flushed.

Unable to refuse Saishinosuke’s earnest proposal, the sister and brother finally ended up taking shelter in his humble abode in Mukōjima.
When they came and saw it, Saishinosuke’s house was even poorer and more dilapidated than he had described, so the siblings exchanged glances and sighed.
Saishinosuke, utterly unfazed and without even removing his travel attire, first guided them to his chrysanthemum field, boasted at length about it, and then designated the shed within the field as the siblings’ temporary residence.
The main house where he lived and slept was filthy, so dilapidated there was literally no place to step, making this shed far more livable by comparison.

“Sister, this is bad.”
“We’ve ended up imposing on quite the unexpected person, haven’t we?”
Tōhon’s younger brother whispered in a small voice to his sister while removing his travel attire in the shed.

“Yes,”
The sister smiled. “But we can stay here untroubled.”
“The garden seems spacious enough too—from now on you should just do your utmost to plant splendid chrysanthemums for him. That would serve well to repay his kindness.”

"Oh my, Sister—do you intend to stay in such a place for good?"

"That's right. I've taken a liking to it here," she said, her face turning red.

The sister was about twenty years old, her complexion so pale it seemed to melt away, her figure slender.

The next morning, Saishinosuke and Tōhon’s younger brother were already engaged in debate.
The emaciated old horse that the siblings had taken turns riding and brought there was gone.
Last night he had definitely tied it at the corner of the chrysanthemum field, yet when Saishinosuke got up this morning and went out to the field first thing to check on the chrysanthemums, the horse was gone.
Moreover, it seemed to have rampaged through the field—the chrysanthemums were devoured, trampled, and left in utter ruin.
Saishinosuke was astonished and knocked on the shed door.
The younger brother came out immediately.

“What has happened?”
“Is there something you require?”

“Please look.”
“Your emaciated horse has trampled my field to pieces.”
“I could just die.”

“I see.”
The boy remained composed.
“So?”
“What became of the horse?”

“Who cares about the horse?
“It must have fled.”

“That’s regrettable.”

“What are you saying?”
“That bag of bones.”

“How cruel to call it a bag of bones!”
“That is an intelligent horse.”
“I will go look for it immediately.”
“A chrysanthemum field like this doesn’t matter at all.”

“What did you say?”
Saishinosuke turned pale and shouted.
“Are you disparaging my chrysanthemum field?”

The sister emerged from the shed, laughing faintly.

“Saburō, apologize.”
“That bag of bones isn’t worth regretting.”
“I was the one who let it escape.”
“Instead of that, you should tend to this trampled chrysanthemum field right away.”
“It’s the perfect chance to repay his kindness, isn’t it?”

“Oh.”

Saburō heaved a deep sigh and muttered under his breath.
"So that's what you were scheming?"

The younger brother reluctantly set about tending the chrysanthemum field.
As he watched, even chrysanthemums whose leaves had been torn off and stems battered—now nearly withered to death—when replanted by Saburō’s hands suddenly revived with vigor: their stems plumped with moisture, flower buds swelling heavy and soft, even their wilted leaves gradually rippling through their veins as they stretched upright.
Saishinosuke secretly clicked his tongue in astonishment.
However, he too was a chrysanthemum-growing patriot.
He had his pride.
He pulled his padded robe’s collar tight and forced himself to speak coolly—“Well, do as you see fit”—before retreating to the main house where he covered himself with a futon and lay down. But he immediately rose again, peering through a gap in the storm shutters to steal a glance at the field.
The chrysanthemums had after all revived majestically.

That night, Tōhon Saburō came to the main house laughing,

“I must apologize for my rudeness this morning.”
“Now then, how about this?”
“As I was just discussing with my sister—and pardon my bluntness—from what I observe, your current lifestyle does not seem very comfortable. If you were to lend me even half of your field, I could grow fine chrysanthemums for you. Would it not be wise to take them to Asakusa and sell them there?”
“Let me grow truly splendid chrysanthemums for you.”

Saishinosuke was in a foul mood, his pride as a chrysanthemum cultivator having been considerably wounded that morning.

“I refuse! You’re truly a despicable man,” he said, twisting his mouth contemptuously. “I had considered you an aesthete of noble refinement—how gravely I misjudged! To peddle one’s cherished blossoms for mere sustenance funds—such defilement surpasses all bounds! This constitutes nothing less than chrysanthemum desecration! Ah—to barter sublime artistry for coin! How profane! I refuse!” he proclaimed with warrior-like severity.

Saburō, also with a sullen look, changed his tone,

“I believe that using the abilities granted by heaven to secure funds for rice and salt is not necessarily the evil act of coveting wealth.”
“It’s wrong to dismiss things as vulgar.”
“That’s what you say, young master.”
“How self-righteous.”
“It’s not good for one to crave money recklessly, but then again, it’s rather tiresome to go around boasting of poverty either.”

“I have never boasted of poverty.”
“I have some inheritance from my ancestors.”
“For my own life alone, that suffices.”
“I desire no wealth beyond this.”
“Kindly refrain from unnecessary interference.”

Once again, it turned into a debate.

"That is what they call stubborn integrity."

"Stubborn integrity? Splendid."
"I don't mind even if you call me a young master."
"I will live sharing every joy and sorrow with my chrysanthemums alone."

“That I understand.”
Saburō gave a wry smile and nodded.
“Now then, how about this?
Behind that shed there’s a vacant lot of about thirty-three square meters. Might we beg to borrow just that area for a while?”

“I am not a man who hoards things. The vacant lot behind the shed alone would be insufficient. Since half of my chrysanthemum field still has nothing planted, I shall lend that half as well. Please feel free to use it—however, let me make this clear: I cannot associate with people who harbor ulterior motives like growing chrysanthemums to sell them. From today onward, consider us strangers.”

“Understood.”
Saburō looked thoroughly nonplussed.
“Taking you at your word, we shall borrow half the field as well.”
“Additionally, there are many discarded chrysanthemum seedlings behind that shed—we shall take those as well.”

“You needn’t mention each and every one of such trivial matters.”

They parted in discord.

The very next day, Saishinosuke promptly divided the field into two, built a tall hedge along the boundary, and made it so they could no longer see each other.
The two households severed all ties.

When autumn reached its peak and all chrysanthemums in Saishinosuke’s field had blossomed splendidly, he found himself growing increasingly preoccupied with the neighboring plot until one day he peered over stealthily and gasped in astonishment.
Blossoms of unprecedented size were blooming across the entire field.
The shed had been neatly repaired and transformed into what appeared to be a remarkably comfortable dwelling.

Saishinosuke was not at peace within himself.
The chrysanthemums were undeniably Saishinosuke's defeat.
Moreover, they had even built a stylish house.
They must have sold chrysanthemums and made a great deal of money—no doubt about it.
Outrageous.
Resolved to teach them a lesson, a sinister tumult of righteous indignation and jealousy and all manner of emotions shook his breast until he could no longer endure it, and at last he vaulted over the hedge and trespassed into the neighbor’s garden.
The more he looked at each flower, the more exquisitely crafted they appeared.
The petals were thick-fleshed, stretching vigorously and blooming to their fullest; the flower heads quivered so intensely they seemed to be trembling with life, blossoming as though their very existence depended on it.
Upon looking more carefully, he realized all of them were flowers that had bloomed from those discarded seedlings he had thrown behind the shed.

“Hmm…” At the moment he involuntarily let out a groan—

“Please come in. We’ve been expecting you,” a voice called from behind. Flustered, he turned to find Saburō standing there with a beaming smile.

“I’ve lost,” declared Saishinosuke in a voice brimming with reckless defiance.
“Since I am a man of unwavering principle, when defeated, I plainly declare my loss.”
“I beg you—take me as your disciple.”
“Let us smoothly—” he said, demonstratively sweeping a hand down his chest, “—smoothly consign all past grievances to the waters.”
“But—”

“No—please don’t say what comes next. I do not possess a spirit of pure poverty like yours, so as you’ve surmised, I have been selling chrysanthemums little by little. But please do not despise me for it. My sister has always been concerned about that matter as well. We too are doing our very best. We do not have an ancestral inheritance like you, and truly, if we do not sell chrysanthemums, we will simply starve to death. Please overlook this and let us take this opportunity to renew our association,” said Saburō, his head hanging low. When Saishinosuke saw him in this posture, he too began to feel pity,

“No, no—to have you say such things leaves me deeply humbled.”
“It’s not that I dislike you siblings at all.”
“Especially since from now on I intend to have you teach me various things as my chrysanthemum instructor, I myself must ask for your continued favor,” he said solemnly and bowed respectfully.

Once reconciliation had been achieved, the hedge between them was removed and exchanges between both households began; however, arguments would still arise from time to time.

“There seems to be some secret in your chrysanthemum cultivation method.”

“There is no such thing.”
“I should have already conveyed everything to you.”
“What remains lies in the mystery of fingertips.”
“That too is unconscious for me—I don’t know how to put it into words.”
“In other words, it might be what’s called talent.”

“So you’re a genius and I’m a dullard, then.”
“No matter how much you teach me, it’s futile—is that what you mean?”

“You mustn’t say such things.”
“Perhaps it’s because my chrysanthemum cultivation is a matter of life and death—because I grow them with the desperate mindset that unless I make them splendid and sell them, I cannot even eat—that the flowers end up growing so large, I sometimes think.”
“For someone like you, who cultivates them as a hobby, it’s merely about satisfying curiosity and self-pride.”

“Is that so?”
“So you’re telling me to sell chrysanthemums too.”
“Aren’t you ashamed to suggest such a vulgar thing?”

“No, that isn’t what I meant.”
“Why must you persist like this?”

Somehow, things just didn’t go smoothly.

The Tōhon household appeared only to grow ever wealthier.
In the New Year that followed, without consulting Saishinosuke even once, they summoned a carpenter and abruptly commenced construction on a grand mansion.
The edge of this mansion came so close to touching the edge of Saishinosuke’s thatched hut that he began contemplating severing ties with his neighbors once again.

One day, Saburō came over with a serious face,

“Please marry my sister,” he said in a tone of desperate resolve.

Saishinosuke blushed.
From the very first glance, he had been unable to forget that gentle purity.
But out of masculine pride, he launched into an odd argument.

"I lack betrothal funds and am unqualified to take a wife.
You people seem to have grown rather wealthy of late," he countered with acrid sarcasm.

"No, everything belongs to you.
My sister intended this from the beginning.
We require no betrothal formalities.
If you would simply come to our house as you are now, that suffices.
My sister has yearned for you."

Saishinosuke concealed his fluster,

“No—such things are irrelevant.
I have my own house.
Becoming a live-in son-in-law is absolutely out of the question.
I will be honest—I do not dislike your sister.”
“Ha ha ha!” he laughed boisterously. “However, becoming a live-in son-in-law is the most shameful thing for a man.
I refuse.
Go back and tell your sister that.
If she does not find pure poverty disagreeable, then let her come.”

They ended up quarreling and parting ways.

But that night, a soft white butterfly fluttered in on the wind into Saishinosuke’s squalid bedroom.

“Pure poverty isn’t disagreeable,” she said with a soft giggle.
The girl’s name was Kōei.

For a time, the two lived together in the thatched hut, but Kōei soon drilled holes in its walls and corresponding ones in the adjoining Tōhon house’s walls, creating free passage between both households.
Then from her own home, she began transporting various necessary tools to Saishinosuke’s house.
Saishinosuke found himself unable to stop dwelling on it.

“This is a problem.”
“Even this hibachi and this vase—aren’t they all from your household?”
“For a husband to use his wife’s belongings is truly a shameful thing.”
“Stop bringing these things over,” he would scold, but Kōei merely laughed and continued carrying them over little by little.
Saishinosuke, who prided himself on being a man of pure virtue, created a large ledger, wrote “The following items are hereby temporarily entrusted,” and resolved to meticulously record each household item Kōei brought over.
But now, everything around him was Kōei’s belongings.
If he were to record each item individually, even a hundred ledgers would not have sufficed.
Saishinosuke despaired.

“Thanks to you, I’ve finally ended up like some hairdresser’s husband.”
“For a household to prosper through its mistress’ efforts—that’s any man’s greatest disgrace.”
“My thirty years of pure poverty lie ruined through your meddling,” he lamented one night with profound bitterness.
Even Kōei at last wore an expression of loneliness,

“It may have been my fault,”
“I’ve only been striving to repay your kindness through all my arrangements until now, but I never imagined you were so profoundly committed to pure poverty.”
“Then let’s immediately sell off all the furnishings in this house and my newly built home.”
“Please use that money however you wish.”

“Don’t speak nonsense.”
“Do you imagine someone of my standing would accept such tainted funds?”

“Then what should I do?” Kōei’s voice turned tearful. “Even Saburō has been devoting himself daily to chrysanthemum cultivation—delivering seedlings to grand houses with such diligence to earn money, all to repay your kindness.”
“What should I do?”
“You and we have entirely opposite ways of thinking, you see.”

“We have no choice but to part.”

Saishinosuke, bound by the momentum of their exchange, found himself compelled to make ever more grandiose pronouncements until he issued a declaration utterly divorced from his true feelings.
"The pure must remain pure, and the tainted must persist in their taint—there is no alternative."
"I possess no authority to command others."
"I shall quit this house."
"Beginning tomorrow, I will construct a hut in that garden corner and devote myself to savoring Pure Poverty as I dwell there."

It became a foolish situation.
But once a man declared his intent, there was no going back. The very next morning, he promptly built a lean-to hut—about three square meters—in a corner of the garden, withdrew inside it, and sat rigidly upright, shivering in the cold.
But after delighting in Pure Poverty there for two nights, the cold became unbearable.
On the third night, he finally knocked lightly on the shutters of his own house.
The shutters opened slightly, and Kōei’s pale smiling face appeared,

“Your austerity isn’t so dependable after all, you know.”

Saishinosuke felt deeply ashamed.
From then on, he ceased making obstinate declarations altogether.
By the time the cherry blossoms on the Sumida Embankment began to bloom, the construction of the Tōhon house was fully completed, and it had become so tightly adhered to Saishinosuke’s house that one could no longer distinguish between the two households.
Saishinosuke no longer interfered in such matters at all, entrusting everything to Kōei and Saburō, while he himself spent his days playing shogi with the neighbors.
One day, the family of three went out to view the cherry blossoms at Sumida Embankment.
At a suitable spot, Saishinosuke spread out the lacquerware lunchbox, began drinking the sake he had brought, and offered some to Saburō as well.
The elder sister signaled with her eyes for Saburō not to drink, but Saburō nonchalantly accepted the cup.

“Sister, I may drink sake now.”
“The house has accumulated plenty of money, so even if I’m gone, you all should be able to live comfortably for the rest of your lives.”
“I’ve grown tired of even making chrysanthemums,” he said strangely, then began drinking sake recklessly.
He soon collapsed drunk and lay sprawled out.
Before their eyes, Saburō’s body dissolved into smoke, leaving only his clothes and sandals behind.
Saishinosuke lifted the garment in astonishment to find a fresh chrysanthemum seedling growing in the soil beneath.
For the first time, he understood that the Tōhon siblings were not human.
Yet Saishinosuke now so thoroughly admired their talent and affection that no revulsion arose.
He came to love Kōei—the sorrowful chrysanthemum spirit—all the more deeply.
The seedlings were transplanted into his garden and bloomed come autumn—pale pink flowers faintly flushed, their scent tinged with wine when sniffed.
Of Kōei’s body, the original text states: “There was no other difference.”
That is to say, it had remained an ordinary female body all along.