Pathway to Japanese Literature

*Nishiki-zome Taki no Shiraito*

Location.

Shinshu Matsumoto, the Murakoshi residence.

Characters.

Murakoshi Kinyo (newly appointed prosecutor)

Taki no Shiraito (Water Performance Madam Performer)

Nadeshiko (daughter of a Nanking-style deba knife maker)

Kōgen Shichizaemon (former domain samurai)

Osono, Orikku (both neighborhood girls)

Nadeshiko.
Wearing a round chignon and an apron, she gazed at the flower basket in the alcove where small yellow chrysanthemums and large white chrysanthemums—some still in bud—were haphazardly arranged, then looked down at the three stems of Dianthus in her hand.

Beside her was Orikku.
The cart-maker’s daughter.

Nadeshiko: “Today—since we have an esteemed guest coming—I’ve borrowed your basket and even presumed to take flowers from your garden. I truly am sorry for the trouble.”

Orikku: “The ones in our backyard are just common weeds, but when you arrange them like this, Madam, they become as splendid as festival kimonos worn for shrine visits.”

Nadeshiko: “This slender one—(pointing to a single bloom)—white like silk thread. What is the name of this chrysanthemum?”

“What was it… ‘thread-like bloom’—that’s what my father calls them.”

“Ah... thread-like bloom... white chrysanthemum... I see.”

“And... you aren’t arranging that nadeshiko?”

“Oh... this flower is nadeshiko?”
(She gazed at the Dianthus in her hand.)

“Yes, it’s a reblooming flower.
They bloom on the roots of withered pampas grass—since they’re rare, that’s what they say at home.”

Since I was so pleased with these reblooming ones, I thought to bind their roots carelessly—without worrying about proper styles, as long as they looked pretty—but if the white chrysanthemums are thread-like blooms, and what I remembered as carnations are actually called nadeshiko... well... perhaps I should place them in a vase in the kitchen corner instead.

“Yes, I’ll go find one.”
(She rose.)

Nadeshiko compared the fully bloomed ones in the basket with the pink in hand.

Orikku: “How about this?”

“Ah, that’s perfect,” said Nadeshiko.
(As she inserted them into the vase) “Oh—there’s no water.”

“I’ll go fetch some.”

“No, for pinks like these, no water is plenty.”

“Oh my, why?”

“That’s a Nanking-style secret technique.”
“Hohoho.”
(She laughed forlornly.)

Osono enters carefreely through the back door.
Confectioner’s daughter.

“Um… Madam.”

Nadeshiko: “Oh, Miss Osono.”

“Um… Madam.
“When I mentioned that you’d prepared a feast for an esteemed guest earlier in the kitchen, using a small knife to prepare the fish—well, I chattered about it after returning home, and Mother exclaimed, ‘My, what a refined young lady!’
“‘No matter what high-ranking person may prepare meals as a pastime,’ she said, ‘that would be inconvenient—so take this and give it to them.’”
(Unwrapping an old hand towel as she spoke) “I’ve brought one I just sharpened.
“It cuts well… Please use it for now.”
…(She thrust the deba knife forward without ceremony.)

Nadeshiko shuddered, hunching her shoulders as she stared fixedly—her face paling. “Miss Osono, I won’t take that deba knife.”

“Um… yes.”

“The deba knife brings a curse upon me. Please put it away quickly.”

“I don’t know what came over me—a country bumpkin like me has done something terribly forward.” She bowed deeply. “Forgive me, Miss Orikku—please accept my apology too.”

“If I have caused any offense, please forgive me.”

“Don’t be absurd,” said Nadeshiko. “There’s no need for such bows. Miss Osono, Miss Orikku.”

“Oh no, Madam—please don’t address us with such honorifics. Treat us like servants—Riku and all.”

Osono—called dismissively “Sono”—entreated to be acknowledged.

“How improper! You are both perfectly respectable town girls, aren’t you?”

“No—I’m just a cart-maker.”

“That old man’s a day laborer—we’re just a penny candy shop.”

“A confectioner’s shop is splendid; a cart-maker’s trade is perfectly fine.”
“What reason is there to humble yourselves?”
“I find that enviable.”
“Even if I had a shack like a trash heap for some stray pup or kitten, being under the veranda was practically homelessness.”
“Before coming to this mansion, I—um, well—even hesitated before chrysanthemum-blooming hedges, lying down together with this pink to sleep on dewy grass.”

“Oh my, such a thing!”

“Well… Madam.”

Nadeshiko knew it was improper—presumptuous even—to be addressed as “Madam,” yet carelessly she had responded, once, twice, and by the third time her reply had faded to a whisper. That punishment had befallen her. The deba knife from earlier was terrifying. I am, you see, a hut-dweller from the Nanking-style deba forging.

The two girls exchanged glances.

Having been carved upon the cutting board and brought to crucifixion’s brink, I was saved by a god-like Master.
That deity—a pure, noble white steed manifesting upon snow-laden Mount Komagatake—should be worshipped in the heavens, yet...
Born a woman in this lifetime—whether through auditory illusion or deluded hearing—being addressed as “Madam” made me answer proudly. Truly retribution has struck... Though this round chignon makes no excuses—that was never my intent.
Resolved never to wed another in this life, I’ve become as a nun... (Voice trembling) Henceforth—even by mishap—never call me “Madam.”
“Miss Orikku, Miss Osono—I must apologize anew.”

“Even so, you’re still Madam.”
“Miss Osono.”

“Um… yes, that’s right.”

“No—I’ve just realized it now. I truly deserve this punishment. So if you pity me at all, tell this mansion’s kitchen maids—‘Go on, go on’—and show them the way to the tofu shop and firewood dealer.”
“I’m so inexperienced and know nothing of proper ways. If the other maids bully me or the estate town’s dogs bark at me like some freakish spectacle—please, I beg you both—show me favor and take my side. Please.”

“What should I do—I’ll just throw this in the trash heap and be done with it.”

(Stands.)

Nadeshiko: Ah, the sound of footsteps.

“Master has returned, hasn’t he?”

Murakoshi Kinyo.
Kōgen Shichizaemon.

Kōgen Shichizaemon and Murakoshi Kinyo make their entrance.
They yield the way.

“N-now, now, old sir.”

Kōgen: "No—rather... Master."

The Master was flustered.
(Awkwardly) Then, in student fashion—I'll show you in.

Shichiza: "What a spectacle!"
"What a spectacle!"

Nadeshiko.
Preparing to greet them, she adjusted her chignon, then forcibly took Orikku’s hand as the girl tried to retreat to the kitchen, and stood side by side with her to welcome the guests.

“Welcome home.”
“I met a guest on the way.”

Nadeshiko (once raised her face, then silently lowered it again and placed her hands on the floor.)

Shichiza.
With an expression that seemed to say “Well now,” he removed his old cap from his bald head and held it aloft, then puffed out his wrinkled Western-style coat—two buttons undone.
A large nickel watch chain dangled limply.

“Please, after you.”

“I must decline—most earnestly decline,” said Shichiza. Bending at the waist and shuffling past Nadeshiko, he advanced to the futon seat and sat down with a thud. “Welcome, honored guest,” said Nadeshiko.

Shichiza: “Haha, Madam.”
(He plopped down.)

Nadeshiko retreated quietly, still supporting herself with her hands.

Murakoshi: “Your close acquaintance with my father and mother.”
“He’s practically like an uncle.”
“Mr. Kōgen… she is an outsider’s daughter.”

Kōgen Shichizaemon laughed heartily: “Ha ha ha! Well now, well now—ha ha ha ha!”
“She was indeed an outsider’s daughter at first, you see.”
“No—the old Madam too has heard whispers through the grapevine, I must say.”
“The visible rise of Murakoshi’s scion is exceptional—but what’s truly remarkable is this endeavor.”
“If this arrangement were to fail—whenever I chew dumplings or eat soba—my chest tightens over Master Kinyo’s bride.”
“At this point—Madam and her party making their entrance—I say this ought to be praised not as scholarly pursuit but as spearhead triumph!”

In the meantime, Orikku brought tea; he gulped it down.

“Ha ha ha ha!”

Nadeshiko was faltering.

Murakoshi placed a hand to his forehead. “No—a servant… that’s what she is.”

Kōgen boomed, “Well now, well now—ha ha ha! What young people say cuts straight to the bone.” He turned to Nadeshiko. “Madam—don’t take it to heart. ‘The field mouse transforms into a quail; the sparrow enters the sea and becomes a clam’—so it goes! A servant rises to become Madam. As for us old country bumpkins—” he thumped his chest, “—we’ve mastered the art of digging mountain yams to pass them off as eels.” His voice sobered. “This old man may be a foot soldier, but I am a Matsumoto clansman of the samurai class.” With a bark of laughter, he added, “Even if they put a sword to me, I’d make you the proper Madam! Ha ha ha!—I won’t back down from this!”

Nadeshiko retreated to a room at Kinyo’s signal.

“Kinyo-san is a magistrate—hmm, not Madam, perhaps I should say lady of the kitchen.”

“Are the preparations…” Nadeshiko began.
(—A favorable report.)

“Now then, Uncle—let’s go over there for now,” said Murakoshi. “Where should I begin… Well, let’s proceed to that room.”

“Well now—ha ha ha! I’ll partake of your feast for now—ha ha ha!” Shichiza boomed. “Hesitation becomes neglect—no, rather, if that’s how it stands, let’s make the best of it—no half measures!”
With that, he stood.
Following Murakoshi into a room, he looked at the chrysanthemums in the alcove. “Ah! How pure and refreshing!”
They bore a striking resemblance to the master’s demeanor.

Kinyo smiled gently, looked at Nadeshiko’s face, and expressed grateful delight at her considerate gesture.
Nadeshiko happily embraced her chest.

The two entered in succession; the fusuma sliding doors and shoji paper screens of this room rendered it invisible from the spectators’ seats.

Shichiza (from within the sliding doors): “Here’s another hanging flower arrangement with sasanqua camellias… The crimson one especially suits you, Madam—ha ha ha!”

Nadeshiko stood and went to the kitchen.
Orikku and Osono entered carrying two meal trays together, then soon withdrew.

Nadeshiko brought out a sake decanter and cup-washing vessel on a tray. Catching sight of the white chrysanthemums in the alcove, she knelt before the empty vase of Dianthus—now wilted in mere hours—and let out a soft sigh of sorrow.
She looked at the cup-washing vessel again, rearranged the flowers, poured water from a small choko cup—and a tear fell.

Murakoshi clapped his hands.

Nadeshiko: “Yes, yes.”
(She rose lightly and entered through the sliding door.)

Shichiza immediately snatched up the sake decanter, set it down haphazardly, then hoisted a meal tray in both hands and exited with a gruff “Hmph!”

Murakoshi followed in exasperation: “Uncle—Uncle—what have you done… What are you doing?”
“Orikku-san—you haven’t made any blunders, have you?”

Shichiza roared with laughter: “Ha ha ha!”
“Don’t panic.”
“Don’t flinch.”
“Don’t make a fuss.”
“Even if every soul in Matsumoto of Higashichikuma District bungled their duties, I wouldn’t lose my temper.”
“I’ll show you proof.”
“Now then—” (He spread out a large wrapping cloth—once chartreuse, now faded to brown and stamped with a family crest—around the tray) “—I’ll carry the decanter by its handle.”

“Uncle!”

“Don’t panic—ha ha ha!”
“Madam—don’t you fluster yourself now.”
“Don’t make a fuss.”
“I’ll return the meal tray later.”
“You might take me for a madman, but I’m nothing of the sort.”
“Truth be told—what the old woman says—well now, though I’m just this old relic lingering in Matsumoto of Higashichikuma District... let me tell you, Madam—I’m no gourd put on display at some harvest fair!”
“Three cups down makes an hour pass.”
“At this rate, it’ll take two hours.”
“With just us two here today—never mind tomorrow—I’ll not drain a full cup. One sip and I’ll march straight back to become your dashing old man, as she demands.”
“It’s the old dear’s heartfelt plea.”
“The field mouse turns quail—this old man becomes gallant!”
“Ha ha ha! No—”
“The late madam of this house knew it well—this old soul thrives on such antics! Let me have my way!”

Murakoshi: (laughing together) “It’s better left entirely to your discretion.”
“However, we do have some tableware prepared—though this meal is humble—I’ll have it sent over to you later.”

“Um, I’ll add some red rice to it.”

“This is most generous.”
“I shall abide by your words.”
“At this time—it having been so long—I wish to pay my respects to your honored mother.”

“The Buddhist altar remains unfinished—only the mortuary tablet stands ready.”

“Ah! Incense blooms and steaming tea—’tis most reverential indeed.”
“Would that she were hale before us now…”

Murakoshi’s eyes glistened.

“Your honored mother—a paragon reborn in the afterlife—might’ve been stern, but she’s reached paradise.”
“A hundred delicacies laid before her…”
“If she stays perched on that lotus throne,” (taps stomach) “she’ll find no comfort here.”
“Came to this dusty world to settle my gut—Madam, roast me some rice cakes.”
(Rubbing his eyes while staring at Nadeshiko) “Now then—behold my valor! All thanks to that old crone trailing me.”
“From her—treat this with utmost care.”
“Enough said.”

Murakoshi (escorting him out): "I insist we meet again soon."

“Think nothing of it.”
“I’ll return come evening!”
“Ah! This time ’tis Nagashiri Chōzaemon, I tell you!”
“Madam—’tis not about some giant loofah exhibited at the agricultural fair—ha ha ha!”
(Exits.)

Murakoshi returned to his seat.

Nadeshiko (resting her hand on her temple and sinking dejectedly): “Master, I’m sorry.”

“If there’s nothing amiss between us, why would I care about round chignons or Shimada?”

During this time，Shichizaemon reached the midpoint of the hanamichi；Shiraito appeared．

Shiraito （passing by him with a slight bow）：“Ah，pardon me，Master．”

Shichiza：“Oh？Me？”

Shiraito: “I would like to make a small inquiry.”

Shichiza: “Yes, yes.”
“Ah, ask whatever you wish.”
“Matsumoto in Higashichikuma District, Shinano Province—’tis a cormorant!”

Shiraito: “Um, having come here after seeing the name in the newspaper—might you know whether a certain Mr. Murakoshi resides in this vicinity?”

“Oh! Lord Yahē’s son, Lord Kinyo.”
“Ah—has he graced the newspapers now?”
“The field mouse transforms into a quail—’tis said a groom becomes a magistrate these days.”
“’Tis the talk of Matsumoto in Higashichikuma District, Shinano Province.”
“I’ve just come from that very residence, I tell you.”
“There—you can see it yonder—ah, that one there!”

“Ah, how gladdening! And—um—is Kinyo-san in good spirits?”

“In robust health—’tis today’s weather that tells his mood,” said Shichiza. “Hurry along and meet him.”

Shiraito: “Thank you for this unexpected intrusion—oh, sir.”

“Yes, yes.”

“And—if I may ask—Kinyo-san, how many are currently in your household?”

“Two people... but...”

“Two people… and a maid…”

Shichiza: “Ha ha ha! She’ll end up being that maid soon enough!”
“Ha ha ha!”

Shiraito (abruptly concerned): “What sort of person…?”

Shichiza: “However you look at it—like this!—she’s the most splendid Madam in all of Matsumoto.”

Shiraito: “Isn’t the household different?”

Shichiza: “Lord Kinyo, son of Lord Murakoshi Yahē.”
“What’s different?”

Shiraito: “Oh? Then has my living ghost been going there instead?”

Shichiza: “Well… you say such strange things.”

Shiraito: “Please look—am I different from—”

Shichiza: “No—this must be the white chrysanthemums arranged in the alcove.”
Shiraito: “Huh.”

Shichiza: “Come along now.”
(While parting) “Ah! Two beauties for two thousand koku—glory upon glory!”
(Entering while holding up a satin parasol.)

Shiraito (pacing back and forth two or three times, then reaching the lattice door): “Excuse me.”

Earlier—Nadeshiko went to the kitchen with the tray and wrapping cloth.
Kinyo entered a room; Nadeshiko entered as well carrying a serving tray.

Sono answered: “Yes.”

Shiraito glared sharply at her hairstyle: “Is Mr. Murakoshi’s residence here?”

“Yes—who’s calling?”

“As I’m unfamiliar with the area, it would be improper to mistake the residence. This Mr. Murakoshi—what does the master go by, may I ask?”

“Yes, the name…”

When she began to answer but hesitated, someone peered in—and her eyes met Orikku’s.

Orikku: "I know it."
(stepping forward) "Welcome."

Shiraito: "Oh?"
(lightly)

Orikku: “Um, the name you inquired about—the Master’s name is Master Kinyo.”

Shiraito: “Hah... And his age... How old is he?”

Orikku: “Um, around twenty-eight or twenty-nine.”

Shiraito: “An approximation won’t do. Even if they share the same name and are around the same age… whether they have it—or don’t—makes a huge, huge difference.”

“Um… What’s this about ‘having it’ or ‘not having it’?”

Shiraito: "Huh."

Orikku: "What exactly do you mean by 'having it' or 'not having it'?"

“The beard.”

“Hohoho… He has grown it indeed.”

“Again—even that isn’t enough. An approximation won’t do—I must properly inquire about your exact age.”

“Heh.”

With puzzled expressions they withdrew—then peered in again—and when she burst into laughter with Osono, the two clattered their way toward the sliding door... But upon seeing Kinyo suddenly emerge with a look of recognition, they flusteredly retreated to the kitchen.

Murakoshi.

He stepped out quietly and, upon catching sight of Shiraito standing there facing sideways, instinctively took her hand. Startled by the sudden gasp—as if being led along—she came into the parlor; releasing her hand, he sat down abruptly; she stumbled a step and leaned against a pillar. When their gazes met, they both involuntarily burst into streaming tears. Nadeshiko appeared at the sliding door’s edge, dropped the serving tray with a clatter, sank down in surprise—and at that very moment, Shiraito too thumped down to sit; all three exchanged bows in unison.

Kinyo, clumsily yet hurriedly adjusting the seat cushion, moved to the lower seat, forcibly repositioned Shiraito to the upper seat, straightened his knees, and placed his hands properly with precision.

Kinyo: “Since our parting—three years, over a thousand days—though this body has hair and skin, eats and sustains life—above all else remains your kindness…”

Shiraito stared fixedly at Nadeshiko, unhearing.

Nadeshiko slipped back, shrinking behind Kinyo as she evenly braced her hands.

Shiraito turned away.

“Whether in heat or cold, rain or wind—I’ve never forgotten your kindness for a single moment,” said Kinyo. “But above all, O-Take…”

Still turned sideways, Shiraito fixed her eyes on a meal tray in the room. She tried to smoke a cigarette. The brazier had no fire.

“You should’ve lit a fire instead of putting on this act,” said Shiraito.

Kinyo raised his face, a thousand emotions clashing in his chest, stammering yet unable to speak.

Nadeshiko (stood up hurriedly, took the brazier from the room, and exited.)
(approaching) "Madam Performer."

Shiraito: I… Today is for watching.

Kinyo: Hey, won’t you serve some tea?
“What about—what about—something—the snacks?”

Nadeshiko stood.

Shiraito: “Must you treat me with such guest-like formality? There’s no need for all that respectful deference. If it’s serving tea, I’ll do it.”

Pretending to head to the kitchen, she swiftly began removing her haori.

Kinyo: “That’s absurd! Now please—please—stop this.”

Shiraito: “Ah, so a maid isn’t permitted formal audience here.”
“Then I shall take my leave.”
“Farewell.”

Kinyo (laughing): “What nonsense! Where could you possibly go by saying you’ll leave?”
“That time at Nagano’s Moon Bridge—didn’t we swear we’d never be strangers again our whole lives?”
“Since you’ve come to this house—the gate, roof, closet, tatami mats, even that brazier—they all belong to you, Elder Sister. Do they not?”

“Oh? So I’ve become ‘Elder Sister’ now.”
“Someone taught you that phrase, didn’t they?”
“Who else could’ve schooled you in such smooth talk—Kinyo-san? The gate, the roof, the closet… And you—who do you belong to?”

Kinyo (silent.)

Shiraito: “Excuse me!”
(Stands.)

Kinyo: “Aren’t you my great benefactor? What am I supposed to do?
“O-Tomo.”

Shiraito: “The likes of a benefactor? I detest it.
“I want to be a maid.”

Kinyo: “That’s... that’s too unreasonable of you.”

Nadeshiko: “Madam Performer.”
(After a beat) “Elder Sister—you’re misunderstanding something.”

Shiraito: “Yes, I came here laboring under the delusion I could act freely.”
(in a flung tone) “Failed the formal audience? My apologies.”

Kinyo: “Well—anyway—please meet my mother. Meet her mortuary tablet.”
“She detested having her portrait taken—wouldn’t give me a photo. Mother... until her final breath... kept calling for you—‘O-Tomo,’ ‘Elder Sister’—longing to see you.”
(voice growing hoarse) “And in truth—even in delirium—the face she described... from complexion to features... isn’t it hers exactly?”
“Here.”
(Offering the mortuary tablet, he placed it on the stand.)

Shiraito (adjusting her attire, demurely supporting her hands): “For the first time…” (similarly clouding her voice, again tearfully glancing at Nadeshiko standing behind her, swiftly taking the mortuary tablet and clutching it firmly to her chest, recomposing herself) “Mother-in-law… Mother… Even if Kinyo-san casts me aside, I wanted only to cling to you and beg for comfort.”
“Mother, I’ve suffered so much.”
“I kept silent about everything, thinking I mustn’t trouble Kinyo-san while he was pursuing his studies.”
“Please look at this haggard face.”
“O-Tomo—‘How pitiful, how wretched’—just those few words.”
“You must say it.”
“To hold the mortuary tablet would be my heart’s desire.”
(returning it to its place) “How rude of me to not purify my hands—please forgive this discourtesy.”
“I mustn’t let my composure falter.”
“I shall see you again.”
“No—don’t hold me back.”
“No—I have pressing business.”

She tried to leave resolutely with a swift motion, but Nadeshiko frantically clung to her and stopped her.
Shiraito exited through the lattice door like a beautiful wind and snapped it shut.
Nadeshiko wrung her hands in distress.

Kinyo (continuing): “I—I can’t go running after my wife. Quickly.”

Nadeshiko recoiled slightly.

“Quickly. Come on, quickly.”

Nadeshiko (Exiting the gate, she seizes [Shiraito’s] sleeve on the garden path): Madam Performer… Elder Sister.

Shiraito: Let go!

Nadeshiko: “No.”

February 1916 (Taishō 5)