Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Yada Tsubeko

1

“Our Father who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. “And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil… Amen.”

The morning prayer flowed solemnly, solemnly through the chapel.

The lambs panting under sin knelt, supporting their bowed heads with fingers, and repeated the holy holy Father’s name until spent. “Hymn twenty-four!” The pastor commanded solemnly. The congregation members frantically began turning pages. Thick and thin voices erupted in chaotic discord. A booming voice gone off-key stood out conspicuously, then lagged behind the others in panicked haste. After the limping chorus ended, a man with primly rigid features rose from among the believers, approached the altar, opened the large scripture beside the pastor, and hurriedly read a passage from Genesis.

“Pro...proclaim...proclaim...” The man stuttered “proclaim” over and over, blushing and growing increasingly flustered as his stutter worsened. When the chorus began again and ended, the pastor—who had been impatiently clearing his throat beforehand—slowly rose and ascended the altar. His flowing white vestments formed a sublime contrast with the black drape behind him, and together with the high collar reaching his chin and the antiquated shoes that encased only his toes, they further enhanced his dignity, making him seem closer to God.

“The New Testament, First Epistle of John, Chapter 3, verse 21.” “Beloved, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have confidence before God... I have deeply contemplated these words and believe there is much we can learn from them.” “Modern Christians are far too melancholy.” “If you have nothing to feel guilty about before God, you should always be able to lead a cheerful and bright life.” “You should be able to act freely without any hesitation.” “In the Old Testament, there is such a story.” “That David—yes, that very David, the great king of Israel—danced before the Ark of the Covenant.” “Moreover, it is written that David danced with all his might.” “David must have danced, forgetting himself and becoming utterly engrossed.” “Michal, his wife, saw this and rebuked her husband—‘What is this? A king like you dancing!’—but David paid no heed and continued to dance.” “I believe that David’s childlike, fearless behavior toward God is truly righteous.” “It is precisely because he had no guilty conscience before God that David was able to dance like that.…”

Reaching into the folds of his cassock and pulling out a handkerchief, the pastor wound it around his fingertip and fastidiously wiped the sweat from his nose. The potent fragrance of heliotrope suffused the chapel. “Among my acquaintances, there is a student who has recently been influenced by evil ideologies.” “He used to meet with me and converse cheerfully, laughing heartily—but once he became ensnared by this ideology, he no longer even attempts to see me.” “He does nothing but brood gloomily.” “They cannot possibly dance cheerfully like David.” “This is proof that they harbor fear of God.” “However, there are more and more people these days who cannot face God directly.” “Evil ideologies are coming to target you young people.” “Everyone—this is an Evil Spirit.” “It is Satan clothed in plausible garments.” “Christians must fight through to the very end against this Satan in the holy name of God.” “We must drive this out from society.” “We must remain absolutely faithful to God’s divine word.” “...a life free from the pursuit of promotion...”

“Damn it! Where’d ya go drinkin’? Finally grab some cash—Tch—an’ come back drunk as a squid…”

“Of course it is.” “The money I earned’s my own business, ain’t it?” “Dealin’ with centipede bastards round the clock—hell, if I don’t get plastered, I can’t keep livin’ in this damn world…”

“...Well, try sayin’ it once, you bastard…” Clang—thud—clatter clatter clatter……

On the other side of the altar’s wall, a brawl broke out. One of the congregation members who had been dozing off slipped down from his chair in a panic. “...Therefore, everyone, I earnestly request that you deeply savor this divine word of God...”

Wiping sweat, clearing his throat, the pastor busily contracted and relaxed his furrowed brows. “Offering!”

The chestnut-headed man in the front row turned toward everyone and bellowed in a booming voice. Inside the red bag, the silver coins clinked. Once again there were hymns and prayers; finally, after a long worship service, the people rose from their seats. “Goodbye, Pastor.” “Goodbye, Auntie.” The congregation members bid farewell to the young pastor with solemn enthusiasm, then bowed respectfully toward the gaunt elderly mother standing behind him. “Today’s sermon was truly splendid.” “Everyone also listened very eagerly.”

After the people had left, the elderly mother called “Auntie,” while drawing the curtains of the windows, turned back to the Pastor and smiled.

“...The neighbors are noisy, aren’t they.” “What could be happening?” “All that commosure made me feel uneasy…” The pastor finished taking off his cassock and smoothed his hair before a small mirror. “Her husband—they say he’s lost his job.” “Truly, these are trying times we’re living through.” “However much they struggle to eat, they might at least consider our standing.” “That sort of behavior reflects poorly before the believers…”

The pastor once again deeply carved the wrinkles between his eyebrows.

2

It was thirteen years ago.

At that time, Omatsu—having lost her husband—stood on the lowest line of subsistence with three children in her care. Days without food stretched on endlessly. When night fell, death extended its tempting hands to greet Omatsu and her children. The only problem was finding an opportunity to die. One midnight, Omatsu took the children by the hand and wandered the streets without destination. Like kittens drained of all vitality, the children walked obediently, only their eyes gleaming. A thick pine tree stretched out its sturdy arms. Yet to reach it required scaling a high cliff. The railroad tracks shone white. But no train came for what felt like ages. They arrived at the riverbank. A warm wind blew. The blue moonlight made the water at their feet look fathomless. Omatsu finally smiled. She rejoiced at having reached this place. Her hand was unconsciously shoving her eldest son away.

Next, holding her two children under each arm, she plunged in. When called, she opened her eyes and realized Omatsu lay stretched out on a white sheet. She desperately tried to spring up. On both sides, two children breathed softly in their sleep. Omatsu looked around. Within gentle laugh lines were eyes watching her. But she searched the surroundings once more. Ken-chan... where had the older child gone?—

Father Sawaki of Saint John’s Church first reassured Omatsu and her children with a benevolent smile. Due to the lack of help, he entreated them himself to stay indefinitely. Omatsu felt tears surge up from the very core of her being. She thought there was a God in this world. From that day onward, Father Sawaki became Omatsu’s living Christ in this world. On a February morning so cold it felt like everything would freeze solid, Omatsu received baptism. The water’s coldness turned into needles that pierced her entire body. But Omatsu kept praying aloud.

She was bedridden with a cold for three days. After receiving baptism, Omatsu firmly came to believe that she was a child of God. She felt a heavy mission on her shoulders. Father Sawaki would point to Omatsu during every sermon to celebrate her rebirth and give thanks to God for His salvation and benevolence. Each time, Omatsu would stand up and repeat a long prayer to "the love of God and Father."

There was unrest among the believers. There was no one who did not praise Father Sawaki’s noble deed. Some even went so far as to boast that it was the church’s radiant pride. To repay his godly act, the believers agreed to a special offering. Father politely refused. But in the end, moved by their fervor, he accepted the money. He took it to the savings bank that very day. A third-rate newspaper featured Father Sawaki with photographs in its Sunday supplement again. His benevolent acts shone in a three-column spread at the top of the page. Along with words of praise from headquarters came a monetary gift. The number of believers increased. Father nodded contentedly. Within his priestly robes, his fingers flicked an abacus. Omatsu and her family were treated even more kindly. The believers elevated “Auntie” to Virgin Mary’s status. This stemmed solely from her husband having been a poor carpenter. Yet inwardly, Omatsu scoffed at him. (As far as she knew, he’d been perpetually drunk, addicted to dice games, kicking her whenever he lost.) The believers’ affection grew daily. And Omatsu herself drew ever closer to God’s throne. Through a meddlesome believer’s mediation, her son became a knitwear factory apprentice.

Whenever her son came home on leave, Omatsu would remember the eldest son she had killed and weep. The daughter whose brain had been struck hard against a post during that drowning lived on with her mouth agape dazedly within her slackened field of vision; Omatsu, even as she staked everything on the heavenly Father’s grace, waited moment by moment for a miracle to manifest upon this girl. Father Sawaki’s transfer to an Anglican church in a central city under headquarters’ directive was the height of grief for Omatsu. But her sorrow vanished simultaneously with the arrival of the new God. This God remained enthroned for about four years before vanishing hand in hand with a beautiful married woman among the believers into the clouds. Young Pastor Ono had finally arrived a year ago. He supported Omatsu and her children according to God’s divine command. Above all else, he was terrified of displeasing the old regular members... In the church, those who held absolute power were the old believers. The church’s maintenance costs and the pastor’s living expenses were in their grasp. Therefore, if the believers were fond of Omatsu, Pastor Ono too had no choice but to gladly comply with their requests. Pastor Ono steadily gained trust among the believers. The mentally disabled daughter was doted on like a younger sister. Omatsu had to give thanks to God for her own happiness.

3

“Ma, can I come in?”

From the kitchen entrance, a broad-shouldered man lumberingly stretched his neck out.

“Oh, Kin! You haven’t come for so long—I’ve been worried sick wondering what happened.” “Yeah, I couldn’t come, and also—” It had been two months since her son’s last visit. Omatsu restlessly began tidying up the area around her. “You’re not the kind to worry your parents—so why on earth couldn’t you come, huh?”

Omatsu stared fixedly at her son. In two months, he had changed completely into a different person. This bearded face, this clothing, this unfriendliness. Where had that model worker’s meticulousness vanished to…… “Has the factory been busy?” “Yeah… What about Ken?” “Where did she go?” “She’s probably in the Pastor’s room.” “The actor’s place, huh?” “Ma, you gotta be more careful.” “Ken’s seventeen after all—”

“When you say ‘actor,’ who are you talking about?” “You know damn well who I mean—that fox bastard at this church.” “He’s just some actor putting on a show up there on the altar, ain’t he?” “That’s right.” “Ma.” “Well, what are you saying…” Omatsu’s lips trembled minutely. Eyes carefully scanned the surroundings.

“You—you’re possessed by an evil spirit.” “Satan’s making you say those things.” “See? That’s how it is.” “Kin, beg God’s forgiveness right now.” “O God, please forgive my foolish lamb.” “By Your power alone, cast out this evil spirit from this small one……” “Quit it.” “Ma, prayin’ to some fox won’t change squat.” “Foxes crave fried tofu—there ain’t no God.” “Pastors’re just con artists—plain as day.”

“Sh… They’ll hear you.” “What a dreadful thing to say.” “Have you forgotten? God is your father.” “Surely you haven’t forgotten His divine grace?” “Now pray.” “Seek salvation.” “Apologize and cling to His power as you once did……” “People watching magic tricks stay fervent while they’re being fooled.” “But once you know how the trick works, it’s so damn stupid you can’t stand watching their act.” “You should check what they’re hiding in their hands behind their backs.” “The mechanism becomes plain as day.” “Honestly.” “I was a believer myself until just recently.” “‘Cause I was too busy getting tricked and enjoying their magic show without even realizing I was conned.” “But listen Ma—I went and grabbed their tails now. Before joining the union, I was one of those foxes too.” “But my brains changed, see? Now I can see the world’s underbelly clearer than its surface.” “Plain as day.” “That’s right.” “Ma, you open your eyes too and try grabbing God’s tail just once.” “Take a look from behind.”

“I won’t let you keep your eyes shut anymore. …Hell, living with con artists in the first place is what’s wrong here.”

As Kinji hammered out each word, Omatsu could only listen blankly, her hand still making the sign of the cross over her chest.

“Amen, Amen……”

In the corridor, the idiot daughter was screaming.

“Ken, get over here. What the hell you puttin’ on face powder for?” “You ain’t goin’ near that Amen place.” “Listen up.” “I’ll get you to a proper doc soon, fix you up good.” “Hear me, Ken—no goin’ to that Amen place. …Ma, leavin’ your errand here.” “Gotta rush—see ya.”

In the same manner as when he had arrived, Kinji left heavily yet soundlessly.

4

When summer came, roadside sermons began night after night everywhere.

St. John’s Church was no exception—the believers divided into three groups and canvassed the town while distributing leaflets. This year, with exceptional fervor, the believers rather forcibly solicited audiences. They were terribly serious. This fervor stemmed not from their faith, but from a more direct cause. This was because every Sunday, the Pastor would tearfully appeal that the Christian evangelism movement was an urgent task for believers in the modern age. It was the Pastor’s abnormally sincere attitude that had so profoundly moved the believers.

“The Pastor is so devoted to the evangelism movement.” “That’s truly splendid indeed.” In response to the believers’ interrogative tone, Omatsu would always reply in this fixed manner. But she knew these facts.

The fact that the son of the president of a ceramics company—one of the confirmed regular members—had been visiting frequently. He had whispered some request, and the pastor had consented to it. The fact that under the pretext of donations to the church, he had been receiving a considerable sum of money. The fact that from that day on, his attitude underwent a complete transformation and the evangelism movement began to be clamorously discussed.

The Pastor himself was extremely busy, and he would often go out secretly to factories to preach. However, to Omatsu, everything was of no concern. She, like the other believers, simply toiled diligently in evangelism. There could be no possibility of error in anything God saw fit to do.

Long past ten o'clock, Omatsu—having finished that night's duties—parted ways with the believers and turned into a dark alley on her way home. When she found herself alone, Kinji's words rose up piercingly in her chest. But each time Omatsu recalled them, she would make the sign of the cross and frantically try to soften her heart by invoking the name of Lord Christ. Why must those words I should have completely sealed away come bursting out and start parading before me?… With irritating curiosity, Omatsu took a tentative bite of them. But immediately she spat them out, made the sign of the cross again, and this time placed a weight upon them so they couldn't emerge. Yet even so, those words ceaselessly raced through Omatsu's mind.…

Worried about the Pastor lying ill with stomach trouble, Omatsu was flustered. Taking a shortcut to reach the front of the house, she found it unlit, the windows dark and desolate. Omatsu pushed the door. She wondered if everyone had gone to sleep.

A sound came from the sanctuary. Pastor must be offering **the** evening prayers**,** thought Omatsu**,** and so she walked down the corridor**,** muffling her footsteps so as not to disturb his devotions.

Bang—a loud crash of a chair toppling over resounded. A suppressed laugh and a low voice scolding it came through. The floorboards creaked. A sound of something hitting the wall and a white shadow chasing after it passed by like a dream. A choked laugh and a voice stifling it rang out slightly louder.

“Ha ha ha ha, come closer.” “Amen, come closer.” “It hurts! It hurts!” “Amen.”

Omatsu felt as if black blood gushed from the crown of her head. Her chest tightened sharply, and she thought her breathing would stop at any moment. Cold sweat trickled down her forehead.

“...That’s Ken.” “What are you doing?”

“Ma! Ha ha ha! Amen... Amen... Ha ha ha ha...” She came flying toward her mother like a beast. She was naked except for a single waistcloth.

“Amen… Come… Amen…” “Where could it have fled to?” “Is that you, Ms. Omatsu? …Now, about that mouse…”

As Omatsu's hand groped for the switch, a man's bare chest brushed against it. She jumped back two or three steps. “You mustn’t turn on the light.” “Because the mouse will get away.” “I’ve gone to all this trouble chasing it here.” “It must be in here.” “I’ll catch it barehanded.” “Listen.” “Ken-chan was making too much noise, so it must have run away...” In the darkness, the man’s fumbling with his appearance stood out conspicuously. The voice tangled and trembled. “Amen… Come… Come…” Her white arms moved eerily as they searched for the man.

“Ken! Come on, let’s go. Come.” Omatsu dragged her daughter’s body as if cradling it.

“Right. “You should get some sleep. I was making such a racket that you came out. By the way, Ms. Omatsu, how was tonight’s sermon? Was the turnout good?” A strangely hoarse, high-pitched voice came chasing after Omatsu from inside the sanctuary.

“……Yes, everything went smoothly. Everyone was deeply concerned about your illness…”

Something hot surged up to the tip of her nose. Omatsu kept her hands with bulging veins placed on her chest and continued praying until dawn.

5

A sharp-eyed, vulture-like man came visiting and, with a chisel-sharp tongue, pried out everything Omatsu knew about Kinji’s activities.

After the man left, the pastor—who had apparently been eavesdropping in secret—furrowed his brow with blatant vertical wrinkles and glared icily at Omatsu.

“Kinji-kun has gotten himself mixed up with quite a place.” “And he calls himself a model worker?” “Now if a man like that starts coming around the church, problems will arise among the believers.” “Ultimately it’s an extremely troublesome matter that concerns the church’s reputation too.” “Ms. Omatsu, you must handle this… After all, mud on a white wall shows up all too plainly—”

The unpleasant words slapped against Omatsu’s cheeks.

There was no way Kinji could be at fault—and yet. But considering how that man had spoken when he came last time... and if by any chance something like that were true... Yet for Omatsu, more than her apprehension toward her son at this moment, it was the pastor's uncharacteristically unjust attitude that struck her most viscerally. She connected his restless behavior since that night—those eyes regarding her and her child with disdain, this abrupt transformation of God who had been gentleness itself into something violently coarse—to some sinister cause she dared not probe. Though she denied it vehemently, sporadic bursts of terror would come without warning to threaten her. No—there could be no wrongdoing in the sacred church. They were all her own groundless suspicions. Surely God—God only ever did what was right.

...And so Omatsu frantically tried to search for other causes of the pastor's displeasure. And she concluded that it pertained solely to her son Kinji.

In any case, Omatsu left the house to meet Kinji and confirm the story.

The back gate was packed with five or six workers. Inside the tilting fence, tightly packed black heads were crammed. Someone raised a black arm and was shouting. With a whoosh, a ground-shaking rumble like raging waves erupted. Hands clapped loudly. Omatsu was first stunned by this sight. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and looked again. She brushed away the hair around her ears and strained frantically to hear what the man was saying. She stretched her back and grabbed the fence.

“Can I meet Tōyama Kinji?”

Finally, she asked one of the workers. “Tōyama? Kinji?” “...Ah, the boss from the Second Factory.” “Well, I’m busy now, but... let’s go check.” “Who’re you?” “Huh? You’re... his ma?” The young worker energetically dashed off. “Well, you see... it’s right in the thick of things now. Ma, step over here and wait, will ya?”

The tall worker invited Omatsu, who was standing dazedly in the street, to the vacant lot beside him.

“What on earth is going on with this commotion?” “Is it a fight?” The man’s friendly tone in calling her “Ma” had unwittingly drawn Omatsu closer to him. A roar of voices erupted, followed by stomping and clapping. A pounding, booming voice shouted afterwards.

“We’ve been on strike since yesterday, y’know.” “This time—this damn time—I ain’t lettin’ it go ’less my demands get through.” “Like hell I’d ever play into their hands!” “Beat ’em down…” “Oh, you came, Ma! What’s up?” A sweat-glistening face busily repeated its breaths. “So you actually listened to my words for once—finally decided to crawl outta that fox den?” “……The police came ’round askin’ all sorts ’bout you—so…”

“What?! That’s all? Let them dogs go sniff shit wherever they damn please... I thought you’d finally gotten some sense in that head of yours, Ma.” The faint smile that had clung to his lips vanished as Kinji viciously scuffed the dirt with his toe.

“God’s grace is deep—how could you say such…”

“You’re still on about that? Soon—yes, soon—when you grab those tails they’re so carelessly dangling… That’s when. Open your eyes, Ma—keep a close watch on ’em. Hear me? Grasp their tails. …Go home today. I’m real busy. Wash off that priest stink before you come back, Ma.”

Kinji lightly tapped his mother's small shoulder. "Take care of yourself." Omatsu grew strangely teary-eyed as she began walking without looking back.

Whoa! Inside the fence, shouts clashed.

6

Over the past week, her mentally disabled daughter—emaciated, barely eating, lying listlessly about—finally went to bed that night only to cry out in violent abdominal pain to her mother. When midnight came, she vomited a blackish liquid repeatedly. Every time she went to the toilet, she suffered severe bleeding. She let out a heartrending cry and pleaded for help. Omatsu embraced her daughter, raised her up, laid her down, and nursed her until she herself became bloodstained. Amidst this commotion, the pastor in the next room made no move to get up. But Omatsu had all but forgotten his existence, absorbed in her task.

Rubbing at her eyes repeatedly, Omatsu finally saw the doctor arrive.

As he was leaving, he whispered from deep within his severe wrinkles. “I’m not a specialist, so I can’t say for certain—but your daughter’s done something outrageous. She was properly pregnant yet appears to’ve taken abortion pills.” “This is a terrible thing.” “Absolutely dreadful.” “You must have a specialist examine her.” “Quickly now. Hurry…” The old doctor fled hurriedly, like a timid mouse.

It was as if she’d been struck on the crown of her head with a massive hammer—clang!—leaving her dazed. Inside her chest, a crimson flame burned. Her vision was blanketed in an even, whitish haze. She understood nothing. Everything... all of it...

But before long, a stream of cold water flowed down through her agitation.

“Ken, Kenbo—what on earth have you done?” “Try telling me everything.” “Come on, try telling me…”

Her eyes rolled back to show their whites as the daughter smiled. "Come on, Ken—try telling me." "Why…" "...Amen." "Amen..."

Suddenly, from the midst of her violent anguish, the daughter raised her index finger and pointed at the next room. A tearful laugh followed.

“...Pastor?” “Ken... ‘Amen,’ huh?” A black lump lodged in her throat.

“So it’s true.” “Bastard, so it’s true.” “You did this... you did this...”

Her white, parched lips trembled dryly. The old woman’s eyes blazed like fire. Her fingers clawed at empty air.

“Fox!” “Fox!” “Fox!”

Omatsu’s foot kicked open the sliding door.

Pastor Ono sat dejectedly on the futon, still in his nightclothes.

“Pastors are foxes!” “Raccoon dogs!” “They’re all frauds!” “God’s a monster!” “A giant swindle!” “For thirteen years I prayed for a miracle to come upon this daughter.” “And look what happened!” “What’s God done for my daughter?” “Got her pregnant—then forced abortion pills down her throat!” “My daughter’s dying!” “Only now do I understand what Kinji meant.” “He wasn’t lying about anything.” “Your tail’s showing!” “I’ve got that big tail of yours in my grip!” “Hiding behind the Bible while doing evil!” “Acting all high and mighty while doing as you please!” “The first pastor used us mother and child as stepping stones for his promotion.” “The second bastard kept skimming donations and offerings.” “That one loved women—made buying whores his hobby!” “Ended up eloping with another man’s wife!”

“And what about you, the next one?” “You laid hands on my daughter and even tried to kill her.” “I still know all about it.” “It’s not like you’re actually devoted to preaching the gospel.” “Aren’t the officials egging you on behind the scenes?” “I know.” “I know.” “If they make you grab money, you’ll take on anything—even God.” “Christ is a lie!” “You’re an actor!” “That cross—the cross is deceiving everyone’s eyes...”

Omatsu dashed out.

Inside the sanctuary, blue moonlight streamed.

At the center of the altar, the cross showed a golden outline.

Omatsu pushed aside the chairs and ran.

Like a ghost, the pallid face of the pastor appeared soundlessly at the doorway. “How dare you deceive me all this time.” “Your job is to inject poison into people’s hearts with that sweet voice of yours.” “That paradise you led us to—it’s crawling with nothing but foxes and raccoon dogs!” “We’re just being devoured by them.” “You’re a fraud!” “Fraud!”

Omatsu’s eyes, which had been glaring at the altar, shone white. She scrambled up onto it. She tore off the cross. She focused all her strength and stomped on it, kicked it, slammed it down. Clang! With a dull metallic clang, it struck the organ hard.

“Aaaaaah!”

The pale face at the doorway let out a low groan and collapsed.

“Ken, come on, let’s go to your brother’s place.” “I’ll work my hardest from now on, get you into a hospital, and make you a proper person.” “Come on now, let’s go.” “Ken…”

Holding her unresponsive daughter’s slender frame under a sparsely starred sky, Omatsu walked on with brisk strides.