Pathway to Japanese Literature

I Though never explicitly stated as former domains of any duke, this region—having produced a great many of the new nobility ranked as marquis, count, viscount, and baron—nonetheless produced no shortage of men who, though equally buffeted by the storms of the Restoration, slipped from their precarious perch on the social ladder until they could secure neither a baronetcy nor even a single prefectural governorship, withdrawing instead to their hometowns to decay into obsolescence. Such men were invariably eccentrics—stubborn, willful, and haughty—and Tomioka Sensei was no exception.

To speak of Tomioka Sensei was to speak of an elderly man so renowned that not only was there none in those parts who did not know him, but even among the marquises, counts, viscounts, and barons residing in Tokyo, there seemed to be a considerable number who would immediately recognize him with an “Ah, that fellow,” while furrowing their brows—such was the extent of his notoriety.

Now, as for what Tomioka Sensei was doing in his hometown—having rejected even the care of relatives—he named a five-room house standing solitary amid vast rice fields as the Such-and-Such Academy, gathered seven or eight youths from nearby villages to teach Chinese classics, and entrusted household affairs to his youngest child alongside an elderly servant. This youngest child—a girl named Umeko who had been whispered about since age six or seven for her uncommon beauty, with townsfolk predicting she would blossom into a remarkable beauty by marriageable age—indeed fulfilled those expectations, growing ever more radiant with each passing year. When her seventeenth spring had slipped by uneventfully and the close of her eighteenth summer arrived—a time when Tokyo schools would soon open their new term—the law graduate Otsu Sadajirou returned home.

From Tomioka Sensei’s Such-and-Such Academy—students who had attended elementary school while studying Chinese classics—there had emerged three graduates who had gone on to complete university studies around that time. That all three of these men had privately decided Miss Umeko was rightfully their own was a fact society had largely sniffed out, and no one raised objections. However, quite a few young men watched with bated breath from afar to see which of the three would ultimately succeed in taking Miss Umeko back to Tokyo. The law graduate Otsu Sadajirou returned home. He was one of the three. From such-and-such mountain pass westward to the banks of such-and-such river, across such-and-such towns and villages—in households throughout these locales with names like such-and-such—a single new topic of interest was added to their various conversations. At last, Otsu’s son must have returned to claim Miss Umeko—if all went smoothly, the other two, Takayama Bunzou and Hasegawa’s son, would surely be disappointed. After all, while Miss Umeko might be a beauty here in the countryside, Tokyo teems with women of her caliber; those latter two probably aren’t fixated solely on her anyway—so went the impassioned debates among groups of women.

One evening, a young, refined gentleman in Western attire came to a stop before Tomioka Sensei’s house. After repeatedly peering inside while fidgeting nervously, he finally passed through the gate and stood rigidly at the entrance.

Even his voice as he said, "I humbly request..." seemed to tremble slightly.

“Someone’s here!” roared a voice that could only belong to Tomioka Sensei. The sliding door opened without a sound to reveal Umeko. Both the gentleman’s face and Umeko’s flushed crimson in the same instant. With a slight bow of acknowledgment, Umeko withdrew into the interior.

“What’s this? Has Otsu’s Sada-san come? Tell him to come right up!” Tomioka Sensei’s deep voice rang out distinctly.

Otsu, guided by Umeko, was led after a long absence to Tomioka Sensei’s sitting room—the very chamber where he had once received instruction in the recitation of Chinese classics. Of course, during his university years, he had visited even once when returning home for a summer.

The conversation between the elderly Confucian scholar and the young law graduate generally proceeded as follows. “Well, Otsu! Back home, are you?” “Anyway, I’ve become a law graduate.” “What’s that supposed to be, huh?” “I’ve secured a position at the Ministry of Home Affairs, through Mr. Etō’s assistance.” “Hmph, I see. And you think that’s something to celebrate? But who the hell is this ‘Mr. Etō’ you’re talking about?” “Regarding Marquis Etō… that is, Mr. Naofumi.” “Hmm… You mean Sansuke? I see. If it’s Sansuke, you should’ve said ‘Sansuke’ from the start. By the way, is Sansuke in good health?”

“He remains in good health.”

“Hmph, I see. That’s fine. What about Kyonosuke?” “He appears to be in good health.” “I see. Next time you meet them, tell them I gave my regards!”

“I have taken note of your instructions.” “Tell them to at least send a letter! “Oi! Tell those marquis-wannabes not to forget us old samurai clans! “Groveling to those bastards for favors—you’re dragging the Tomioka Academy’s name through the mud! “If you’d told me, I would’ve sent those pricks a letter myself! “They’d have damn well listened if it came from me!”

Such was the general tenor.

And there sat Tomioka Sensei with a perfectly composed expression. Otsu soon took his leave and stepped out to the entrance, where Umeko came to see him off. Otsu glanced sidelong at Umeko’s face, muttered something like “Another time,” then hurried out the gate and let out a sharp breath.

“It’s hopeless!” That insane arrogance still hadn’t healed. “Miss Umeko’s the shameless one—hmph, making a fool of others,” he muttered while walking along the dim rice field path, though his heart remained far from calm.

Five or six days passed, and rumors arose that Otsu Sadajirou had entered into a marriage arrangement with Kuroda’s daughter. Many of those who heard this tilted their heads in puzzlement, their expressions showing surprise. But the fact was indeed so—the daughter of a landowner named Kuroda, Miss Tamako, whose looks paled considerably compared to Umeko’s but who had just graduated from a prefectural girls’ school and returned home, had through a certain friend’s zealous efforts finally been set to marry Otsu. Strangely enough, once this decision was made, horse-faced young fellows emerged, loudly chattering, “Well then! Now it’s a competition between Hasegawa and Takayama—I wonder whose Miss Umeko will end up being!”

Now, Law Graduate Otsu had proposed that he wished to marry urgently and turn his return to the capital into a honeymoon trip, so of course the Otsu household—and needless to say, the Kuroda household—was in an extraordinary uproar. Both households occupied positions in the upper echelons of rural society, so the stream of congratulatory gifts never ceased. For the village, this was no mere celebration comparable to those of the Mitsuis and Iwasakis in the city—it was an extraordinary commotion. Both households were desperately overwhelmed with wedding preparations.

It might have been around three in the afternoon on that imminent wedding day. In the village stream, by a nearby river flowing out to sea where willows grew thickly, in a small shaded spot, there were two people fishing. One was Tomioka Sensei; the other was Hosokawa Shigeru, the village school principal—a twenty-seven-year-old man who had also once attended Tomioka Sensei’s academy. The two were fishing a few meters apart; the vivid sunset of late summer and early autumn, sinking in the west, bathed every nook of the distant villages, nearby hills, and wooded groves; their backs, caught in this evening light, had their tilted straw hats and white summer garments starkly illuminated.

Both of them had been sitting there without speaking much, seemingly lost in their own thoughts, when suddenly Principal Hosokawa turned toward old man Tomioka.

“Sensei, were you invited to Otsu’s wedding tonight?” “Yeah, I was invited—but I ain’t goin’!” Tomioka Sensei answered in his usual booming voice. The truth was, he hadn’t been invited. Otsu, for reasons unknown, had not invited his former teacher. “What about you?” “Since Otsu hasn’t been acknowledging me lately, I haven’t been invited either.” “Even if they invited you, don’t go!” “What fool would go to that frivolous bastard’s place?” “That bastard doesn’t even deserve Kuroda’s daughter!” “Looking at it now, even though they graduated from the same university, Takayama and Hasegawa are a grade above as people. And among them, Takayama’s a man of considerable promise.”

Hosokawa Shigeru remained silent and said nothing; he was simply gazing at the water’s surface. Old man Tomioka also fell silent. After a while, two or three people passed by talking on the embankment of the opposite bank; their figures were not clearly visible in the shade of the river willows, but their hats and Western umbrellas intermittently peeked through the branches. And by their voices, it became clear that one was Otsu Sadajirou, another was a certain friend, and the third was Kuroda’s clerk. Both Old Man Tomioka and Hosokawa Shigeru instinctively pricked up their ears. The three of them, laughing boisterously, had come right to the opposite bank of the two, yet of course failed to notice the pair crouching there.

“But I hear you were quite keen on Tomioka’s Miss Umeko, they say!” This was the voice of Kuroda’s clerk. “That’s a lie! A damn lie! Even if Miss Umeko’s all right, there’s no way I’d become that stubborn old man’s son-in-law! Ha ha… Miss Umeko may seem lovely, but thanks to that arrogant madman, she can’t make her way in the world!” This was unmistakably the voice of Law Graduate Otsu. The three of them burst into derisive laughter: “Ha ha ha…” Old Man Tomioka threw down his fishing rod and abruptly stood up. He glared at the three with a white-eyed glare and bellowed, “You utter fools!” This terrifying voice resounded across the river’s surface.

The three on the opposite bank seemed startled; perhaps realizing this, they immediately hushed their voices and hurried past. Old Man Tomioka continued glaring white-eyed at the opposite bank until the trio’s footsteps faded away, then gradually shifted his gaze to a distant bald mountain. A hill dotted with young pines basked quietly in the sunlight, yet even within that vivid glow, the natural scenery seemed tinged with autumn’s lonely melancholy—a quiet sorrow that stirred human emotions from nowhere and everywhere at once. The tall old man with a sturdy frame stared fixedly, occasionally blinking his eyes, but before long—unlike his earlier vigor—he turned toward Hosokawa Shigeru with an air of frailty.

“Hey, you! Carry this equipment to my house. I’m heading back.”

He spat out the words and left. Principal Hosokawa found it unpleasant to be left behind, yet he continued to cast his line; in truth, he was lost in thought. After a while, he listlessly wound up his line, lifted the basket from the water, slung Sensei’s equipment over his shoulder along with his own, and made his way to Tomioka’s residence not far off. At the front garden

“Is something the matter with Tomioka Sensei, I wonder?” the old servant Kurazou asked in a hushed voice. “No, he isn’t doing anything out of the ordinary.” “But his manner seemed different today—I thought something might have happened again.” “What is Sensei doing now?” “He’s resting, but he called Miss Umeko to his bedside and appears to be speaking to her in a faint voice…” “I see…” “Oh, won’t you come up and stay until evening?” “I’ll come later tonight!”

Hosokawa shouldered his own fishing rod, swung the basket idly, and returned home with a sullen expression. It was likely just past four o'clock then. At home, his elderly mother sat spinning thread.

Around eight o’clock that night, just as Old Man Tomioka usually finished his evening drink, Principal Hosokawa visited Sensei.

The reason so many paper lanterns flickered along the country path was due to Law Graduate Otsu’s wedding, and Principal Hosokawa encountered one or two people invited to the event on his way. Each time he met them—all being acquaintances—he exchanged a few words of greeting, but he did not feel at ease.

When he went to Tomioka’s gate, he found it closed, and inside was utterly still. The Principal found it suspicious but, having no pressing reason to knock on the gate, lingered there lost in thought when soon the old servant Kurazou came hurrying along the country path. “Hey there, Kurazou. Has Sensei already retired for the night?” “Oh! Principal Hosokawa! Tomioka Sensei has just departed for Tokyo!” gasped the old servant, planting himself before Hosokawa.

“To Tokyo?!” Hosokawa’s voice seemed to catch in his throat. “Ah! To Tokyo!” “Oh! What’s happened?!” “And Miss Umeko?” “She went with him.” “Oh! What’s happened?!”

The Principal was both shocked and overwhelmed by an indescribable anguish pressing upon his chest. His mind went blank, all composure lost.

Kurazou was opening the gate while— “Oh, do come in now!” The principal followed behind, entered through the gate, and sat down on the edge of the veranda—but even this he did almost in a daze. “Oh! Does Sensei truly know nothing about this, I wonder?” “What could I possibly know? I went fishing today—Sensei didn’t say a word about anything.” “Is that so?” Kurazou asked with a dubious look and began to smoke. “Do you not know the reason, I wonder?” “I was just ordered, ‘Kurazou! Take this to the Village Headman’s place immediately!’ So I took that letter there and returned home only to find everything already prepared. I promptly escorted them to the station and have just now returned—what do I know?”

“Hmm...” The Principal pondered, then asked, “About when did they say they’d return?” “Tomioka Sensei said he’d return in about ten days… though I’m not entirely sure he will.” “I see…” The Principal sighed, but—

“I’ll come again,” Hosokawa declared abruptly as he left Tomioka’s residence and immediately went to visit the Village Headman.

The Village Headman was a man in his prime—somewhere in his forties—who commanded immense trust in the village and possessed considerable wealth; the Principal had always made this man his confidant.

“Do you know that Tomioka Sensei has gone to Tokyo?” Principal Hosokawa asked the moment he took his seat.

“Of course I know. Just now, Kurazou brought a letter from Sensei stating that he entrusted household affairs during his absence,” the Village Headman said, only his head poking out from under the futon. “I had been invited to Otsu’s wedding but caught a cold and couldn’t attend, so I was lying here.”

“What reason could have prompted this sudden trip to Tokyo?” “The reason wasn’t written in the letter, but I can pretty much guess, can’t I?” said the Village Headman with a faint smile, staring intently at Hosokawa’s face. He had discerned that Hosokawa was secretly pining for Umeko. “I can’t make heads or tails of it,” the Principal sighed. “Can’t you see? Otsu married Kuroda’s Tama, so Tomioka Sensei’s plans fell through. Now he’s gone to Tokyo with Miss Umeko, making the rounds to Viscount Etō and Count Inoue—‘Hey Inoue! Take care of my daughter!’—that’s about the size of it.”

“I wonder if that’s true?” “Exactly! Moreover, Sensei has always been endlessly praising Takayama—he’s probably told Count Inoue to foist Miss Umeko onto him. And mind you, Takayama’s had his sights set on Miss Umeko all along!”

“I wonder if that’s true?” Hosokawa’s voice trembled. “Exactly! So he’s trying to put Otsu in his place, eh? Well, Sensei’s grown quite frail now—once Miss Umeko’s future is settled, he’ll finally rest easy and die in peace, I suppose.” The Village Headman spoke these self-evident truths with unflinching composure. One reason was to make Hosokawa quickly abandon his feelings. “You’re absolutely right. Despite how he appears, Sensei won’t last much longer!” he said weakly, and soon Principal Hosokawa took his leave from the Village Headman’s residence.

Pitiable was Hosokawa Shigeru! He stood utterly disappointed. Within that disappointment mingled a singular anguish. He could not rid himself of the thought: “If only I were a graduate.” In childhood he had surpassed even Otsu, Takayama, and Hasegawa in elementary school; at Tomioka’s private academy he had been the most accomplished student. Sensei had always cherished him above all others. Yet due to family circumstances he could not even enter middle school, ultimately enrolling in a government-funded normal school to graduate as an elementary school teacher. In natural talent he was by no means inferior to those two or three fellows—yet now even Tomioka Sensei, no matter his words, still seemed to regard Otsu and Takayama as vastly superior and sought to attach the ceremonial knot to Miss Umeko! Regrettable indeed—he now had to swallow an inexpressible resentment beyond mere romantic disappointment.

However, he was a man of sincere character and considerable fortitude, so he did not neglect his duties as principal because of this anguish. He stood over five or six teachers as usual with a composed face, guiding hundreds of children, but a shadow of dark sorrow accompanied him wherever he went.

II

It had been one week since Tomioka Sensei had suddenly departed for Tokyo when he returned home, accompanied by Umeko. When Principal Hosokawa read the old scholar’s letter stating, “I’ve returned home now, so come visit tonight,” he unconsciously glanced around his surroundings.

While indulging in self-centered daydreams, he hurried over only to find the Village Headman already seated with sake poured. Umeko, as was her custom, was serving her elderly father drinks with a gentle smile.

“Hosokawa! You must’ve been shocked by our sudden departure! Well, I took it into my head to show Tokyo to my daughter, you see. We’d meant to stay ten days or so, but everything rubbed me the wrong way—ended up leaving after three! We’re still talking about it now—every last one of those hometown fellows in Tokyo’s worthless! Not a single decent bastard among them!”

The Principal was utterly baffled about what this was all about and couldn’t find the words to say; he could only look back and forth between Tomioka Sensei and the Village Headman. The Village Headman wore an enigmatic smile on his lips. “Listen here—I took my daughter to Count Inoue Kikuchi’s place and Viscount Etō Sansuke’s residence! After all, I went out of my way to bring her all the way from our hometown for the first time in ages—you’d think they’d have some shred of courtesy! But no! They flaunted their marquis and count visages without restraint—their insolent and disrespectful manner was beyond belief!” “So I got thoroughly pissed off and didn’t stay even half an hour before storming back to the inn!” he declared, downing his cup in one breath and thrusting it toward the Principal.

“That’s just their damned nature—what’s unbearable is how Takayama and Hasegawa act! Hey, Hosokawa! They’re utterly worthless—no different from Otsu! Strutting around with insolent, half-baked arrogance—do they think becoming petty officials makes them so high-and-mighty? I’ve run out of both love and hate for them!” “I was so fed up I started preparing to return home immediately when Takayama showed up with a shocked look and said—‘Since you went to the trouble of bringing her, why not at least entrust your daughter to Count Inoue?’ ‘The Count said that since Tomioka seems so pitiable, he should at least take care of the girl—that he felt terribly sorry for me!’ Can you believe that?! I straight up smacked that bastard’s head! ‘What?! You too think I’m some pitiful wretch?!’ ‘You want me to hand over my daughter with that kind of attitude?!’ ‘You utter fool!’” “he roared.”

“And what did Takayama do?” the Principal managed to utter. “What could he do? He fled with a bright red face! Then I immediately left Tokyo without stopping anywhere and came straight back.”

“That was rather pointless, wasn’t it? After you’d gone to all that trouble,” Hosokawa ventured timidly. Tomioka Sensei’s bluster intensified as he launched into his customary tales of bygone days, berating every last one of the current marquises, counts, viscounts, and barons. The Village Headman seized an opportune moment to take his leave. Hosokawa persevered until Sensei had talked himself hoarse, grown exhausted, and collapsed drunk, remaining the focal point of his fiery outbursts. When departing, Umeko accompanied him to the entranceway, though Hosokawa inexplicably wore a faint smile. Upon reaching Tanpomichi path, he walked with brisk steps as if the weight of recent days had suddenly lifted—yet by the time he arrived home, he scarcely recalled how he’d traversed the road.

III

It was two days later when a letter from Takayama Bunzou, the law graduate in Tokyo, arrived at the Village Headman’s residence.

The letter read as follows. No sooner had Tomioka Sensei gone to the trouble of coming to Tokyo than he suddenly returned home; regarding this, I am deeply troubled. The Sensei remains as obstinate as ever. Of course, neither we nor our seniors have ever mistreated Sensei, but he has arbitrarily decided that we have and grown enraged—he’s truly a difficult man with no way to manage him. The truth is, I had long been considering taking Miss Umeko as my wife; since I had requested Count Inoue to have her remain in Tokyo so that negotiations could follow afterward, however, Sensei’s sudden return home rendered that plan utterly futile—a matter of profound regret. It is not merely Miss Umeko’s appearance that draws my admiration; as you are aware, she possesses a truly rare and beautiful character seldom found among young women these days. Though I have encountered many young ladies of Tokyo, never have I met one as unassuming, gracefully refined, and genuinely sincere as Miss Umeko. Miss Umeko possesses in full measure what might be called the quintessential traits of a woman—a gentle, serene, and endlessly kind nature. I trust you share this view as well. If one were to name a flaw in Miss Umeko, it might be a certain lack of strength; yet to demand flawlessness in a human being is the folly of the one who demands it. For a woman, one could rightly say that Miss Umeko approaches perfection—indeed, I think this very absence of rigidity may instead lend her character an added layer of refined depth. My feelings are by no means frivolous; I sincerely admire this young woman. I earnestly request that you too lend me your support and gently persuade the old scholar on my behalf. There is no one as difficult to steer as that old man, but if you can skillfully handle that aspect, I will in turn request Count Inoue to take all necessary steps. I humbly beseech your kind assistance.

However, I would ask that you wait for a particularly opportune moment to broach the matter with Tomioka Sensei; acting hastily will only invite failure. While I have full confidence that you will leave no stone unturned in this regard, it must be remembered that even the old scholar possesses ordinary human sensibilities and is thus capable of understanding when properly approached. However, this man of inherently patient disposition had been diverted onto a wayward path by peculiar circumstances during the Meiji Restoration, ultimately failing to achieve the success he was meant to attain; while his peers became marquises and counts, and his juniors viscounts and barons, he remained a rural old scholar—and each time he reflected on this, his temperament grew increasingly volatile until it hardened into an unyielding nature, transforming him into a man impossible to handle whether boiled or roasted. Thus within the old scholar’s heart, two selves perpetually warred: one being the natural Tomioka-san of his true essence, the other the Tomioka Sensei forged by his life’s journey. And Tomioka Sensei had grown thoroughly accustomed to violently suppressing Tomioka-san at every turn; as a result, even those things that Tomioka-san might hope for, approve of, or desire so eagerly he could leap at them would—if they so much as grazed the foul mood of that stubborn, impatient Tomioka Sensei—be instantly destroyed with a single blow. You are likely aware of these circumstances already, but I ask that you exercise due caution and carefully choose the right moment to broach the matter.

Such was the gist of what he had written at great length and with fervor. The Village Headman, having fully grasped the details, thought to himself that he must find an opportune moment to smoothly conclude this marriage proposal.

About three days had passed when, late at night, the Village Headman visited Tomioka, the old man. He had gone to find an opportune moment. However, Principal Hosokawa was present in the room, sake had been served, and the old scholar’s bluster was particularly fierce; thus he did not stay long and returned home.

Five days later, the Village Headman came to the gate of Tomioka, the old man, intending to visit him around two o'clock in the afternoon. Then came Tomioka Sensei’s voice,

“You fool!” “Have even you turned into a complete fool?” “What’s so damn funny, you utter fool!”

The familiar loud voice berating someone could be heard as clearly as if held in one’s hand. The Village Headman, startled, stopped in his tracks and strained his ears to discern who was being rebuked when the old servant Kurazou emerged quietly from within.

“Hey, Kurazou! Who’s getting yelled at now?” The Village Headman whispered. Kurazou stopped him with his hand and brought his mouth close to the Village Headman’s ear, “It’s the young mistress who’s being scolded.” “Huh?! Miss Umeko?!” the Village Headman widened his eyes.

That stood to reason—until now, Umeko had scarcely ever been so much as reprimanded by Tomioka, the old man. Even the formidable Tomioka Sensei became like a child toward Umeko, and whenever people witnessed the serene and tender affection between father and daughter, everyone would marvel that Tomioka Sensei seemed an entirely different man.

“My! How come?” The Village Headman asked in surprise. “I don’t know why, but ever since he returned from Tokyo this time, he’d been drinking every day—the old scholar who’d always been so kind to the young mistress until now had these past two or three days started shouting over the slightest things, and I’d been at my wit’s end trying to handle it.” he said with a sorrowful look,

“Given how he looks now, he doesn’t have long left—though I know it’s ill-omened to say such things…” Kurazou blinked his eyes. At this moment, by the old scholar’s voice— “Kurazou! “Kurazou!” called a voice from the veranda of the sitting room. Kurazou quickened his speech, his voice growing even softer, “But come evening, Principal Hosokawa usually visits, so during those times his mood improves somewhat… Though even when the Principal gets told off in ways that’d make anyone resentful, he doesn’t talk back and stays gentle—so before long the old scholar’s temper eases up a bit…”

“Kurazou! “Kurazou! Are you here?!” resounded the old scholar’s thick voice once more.

Kurazou bowed slightly and hurried around to the garden.

The Village Headman crossed his arms and pondered for a while, then let out a sigh and headed back toward his own house.

IV

The Village Headman found no opportunity to mention Takayama’s request; whereas Principal Hosokawa Shigeru visited Tomioka Sensei nearly every night, staying past ten o’clock for what could hardly be called conversation—rather, he served as the target for the old scholar’s complaints, insults, fiery rants, and boastful tales. Sensei had by this time begun indulging in drink with increasing severity; just as Kurazou had said, his language grew ever rougher, and his mood became more and more difficult to manage.

What had changed most markedly was his behavior toward Umeko; at times he would even bellow, “Fool! Drop dead! It’s because of you that I can’t even die!” Yet Umeko endured this well and ever more obediently tended to him. Thereupon Kurazou would say with tears streaming from his aged eyes, “Young mistress—oh, there is none like you! When they speak of a person like a deity, it is you they mean! How admirable you are…”

In this manner, autumn had quietly reached its midpoint. Hosokawa Shigeru had caught a cold and been unable to visit Sensei for four or five days, but once his fever subsided, he set out one evening around seven o'clock. Finding the household uncharacteristically silent, Hosokawa felt a flicker of unease as he was shown into the sitting room. In the chamber adjoining Sensei's quarters, Umeko sat alone sewing. Even when Hosokawa entered, she did not raise her head. Growing suspicious, he looked closer and saw tears streaming down her pale cheeks in the lamplight. The principal was astonished and—

“Miss Umeko—has something happened?” he asked in alarm. Umeko still kept her head bowed, staring fixedly at the motionless needle in her hands, and remained silent.

At this moment, in the next room,

"Who’s there?" shouted the old scholar. "It is I." "Hosokawa."

“Why aren’t you coming in here? What are you doing? I’ve got business—come here at once!” “Just a moment,” the principal began to rise when Umeko suddenly looked up at Hosokawa’s face, and tears streamed down onto her lap. Startled, Hosokawa hesitated, but unable to utter a single word or halt his steps, he entered Sensei’s quarters just as he was. A shudder of unknowable origin surged through his body, and when he sat down, his face had turned deathly pale. Old Man Tomioka lay in bed with a medicine jar placed by his pillow.

“Oh—are you unwell somewhere?” Hosokawa finally said in a voice like he was squeezing it out. Old Man Tomioka did not utter a single word; the room lay in silence; Hosokawa felt his breath stifling.

After a while,

“Hosokawa! What in blazes did you come to my place for in the first place, eh?”

Lying down, Tomioka Sensei spoke in a tone that pressed upon people and a voice that ridiculed them. Hosokawa could not utter a single word. “Well? What in creation did you come here for?” “Did you come to visit me?” “Did you come to curry favor with my daughter, eh?” “Answer me!”

The principal closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, lowered his head, and rested both fists on his knees.

“You’ve been plotting after my daughter!” “You’re scheming to claim my daughter as your own!” “Hmph!” Hosokawa’s fists trembled.

“You think carefully!” “You’re nothing but a countryside elementary school principal!” “Even among those who attended my academy—Takayama and Hasegawa are law graduates—I wouldn’t even give my daughter to them!” “Know your place!” “Fool!”

The principal’s face rapidly flushed crimson. Hot tears streamed down onto his clenched fists. From the same mouth that cursed Marquesses and Counts—how could such words emerge? No doubt Sensei prized social rank over true character. A retort—How despicable!—rose to Hosokawa’s lips, but he clenched his teeth and stifled it. There was nothing strange about Sensei’s words; if he had intended to counter them with logic, he would never have started visiting this house in the first place. he reflected.

“Eh? Or are you saying you want my daughter no matter what, you—!”

The principal did not utter a word. “Speak plainly! Are you saying you want her no matter what? Then speak like a man, damn it!”

Hosokawa firmly raised his head. “That is correct! I have always wished to have Miss Umeko as my companion!” he declared resolutely and stared straight into the old scholar’s eyes. “And what if I refuse?” “There is nothing to be done!” “Get out! Don’t come back until I summon you! Get out!” the old man barked, then turned over to face the opposite direction.

Hosokawa immediately stood up and left the room, whereupon Umeko, who had been collapsed and weeping, suddenly rose and came to see him off at the entrance. “Please, I beg you, do not take Father’s words to heart… You know well how his temperament is!” she said in a faltering voice. “No, I will not take it to heart at all. Please take good care of Sensei… and yourself as well…” Unable to finish speaking, he hurried out through the gate.

That night, Hosokawa returned home past midnight. Where had he been wandering? His mother, who had stayed up waiting, looked suspiciously at his deathly pale face and utterly exhausted appearance, but—

“You haven’t caught another cold, have you? It’s not good to stay out so late when you’re not fully recovered yet.”

“There’s nothing particularly wrong,” Hosokawa said nonchalantly and entered his room as he was. Mother watched his retreating figure and let out a quiet sigh.

Five

From the following day onward, Principal Hosokawa went to work and performed his duties as was his custom, but in his heart there burned an anguish he had never experienced since the day he was born.

If he had merely been berated by Tomioka Sensei, he would have agonized over finding a way to resign himself—though that torment would indeed be painful—for this was a battle; his willpower would have withstood this anguish.

But his present anguish was an unsolvable confusion he could not unravel himself. *Why had Umeko wept that night?* When I was summoned by Sensei and entered that parlor, why did Umeko look at me with such an expression and shed tears? When I had clearly stated my hopes to Sensei, Umeko must have been listening in the next room—if she had completely rejected my feelings, she wouldn’t have comforted me like that when I left… The conviction that “Umeko loves me—or at least does not find my love for her displeasing” had tenaciously lodged itself in Hosokawa’s heart, and he could not deny it; yet precisely because Umeko had always shown equal kindness to all and special affection to none, he could not fully believe this conviction. Each time Hosokawa recalled Umeko’s tearful, upturned eyes—eyes that seemed to plead and apologize—he would grow dreamy as if entranced, his longing blazing to the point of madness. Love, confusion, and shame—in dreams and waking hours alike, this anguish would not leave him.

There had been a time when he resolutely asked Kurazou to secretly deliver a letter, intending to lay bare his true feelings to Umeko, and stayed up writing until around two in the morning; however, upon reconsideration, he tore up that letter. And so about ten days passed.

One day, after finishing school around four o'clock, as Hosokawa was returning home lost in thought along the foot of the hill as usual, he encountered Kurazou. Kurazou was holding a medicine jar in his hand.

“Principal! Why haven’t you come at all lately?” Kurazou asked with feigned ignorance, though he knew full well how matters stood. “How is the old scholar’s illness?” The principal once again avoided answering Kurazou’s question and inquired about Tomioka’s condition.

“Lately, he’s grown much weaker and stays in bed all the time, but there’s no particular sign of anything seriously wrong.” “But he won’t last much longer now!” Kurazou sighed. “Hmm… Is that so? I would like to visit him once, but…” The principal’s voice and demeanor grew somber. “Please come—who cares what he says in a fit of temper…” “That may be so… but how is Miss Umeko?” he resolutely asked.

“Lately, she’s been so gloomy all the time—it’s downright pitiful to see. Truly, the young miss is pitiful…” The tear-prone Kurazou turned aside, gazing toward the rice fields as his eyes already began to well up. “This is quite a predicament. Is Sensei still making a fuss as usual?” “Well, lately Tomioka Sensei’s been half-asleep in bed most o’ the time and hardly says a word.” “That’s odd…” Hosokawa tilted his head.

“Even when he’d been ill before, there’d never been a time he’d been this listless as now—it must surely be a sign he doesn’t have much longer.”

“That may well be the case!” Hosokawa furrowed his brows. “And there’s something about him—looks like his spirit’s broke and he’s gone simple-like. When I see him like that, I can’t help but feel sorry for him. You’d think a cantankerous man like him would be better off staying his usual loud self.” “Perhaps I’ll try visiting tonight.” “You must come—it don’t matter none!” “Hmm…” Hosokawa pondered for a moment, then said, “Please give my regards to Miss Umeko.” “Understood. You must come tonight—it don’t matter none!”

Hosokawa nodded lightly, and the two parted. After pondering various matters and agonizing over every possibility, the principal ultimately was unable to visit Tomioka that night.

On the evening of the third day after that， Kurazou came to the principal’s residence with a solemn face and handed Hosokawa a letter from Umeko; while Hosokawa was staring wide-eyed at him in astonishment， he left without even exchanging greetings.

A letter from Umeko! Hosokawa Shigeru's hand trembled. It was no wonder—an unprecedented event, something unthinkable! Not only Hosokawa, but none of the young men who knew Umeko could have imagined such a thing!

When he opened the letter and read through its contents，it proved an extremely brief text—she had simply written this letter on her father’s behalf．It stated it was absolutely imperative you come tonight without delay，meaning her father apparently had something urgent he suddenly wished to discuss．

Hosokawa immediately rushed off. Struck anew by how suspiciously Tomioka Sensei’s words from the previous night—“Do not come until I send for you!”—now weighed on him, he repeated this command to himself over and over as he walked. Yet the moment his thoughts touched upon that night’s torrent of abuse, his legs seemed to shrink beneath him.

But he had been "sent for." A mysterious force beckoned him from ahead and pushed him from behind, suddenly making him break into a run; he entered the gate without hesitation.

When he was shown into the parlor, the village headman was there. Sensei was sitting up in bed, leaning against the futon. Umeko was also seated; at first glance, the gathering seemed unusual compared to normal times. Serious and somber—moreover, somewhere a shade of sorrow stirred. The principal politely bowed to the assembly, then turned once more toward old man Tomioka,

“How is your condition?” “This illness refuses to lift,” came the reply, his voice diminished and leaden. “If you don’t take proper care—” “No—this time will surely be my final farewell.” “You mustn’t speak so!” Hosokawa attempted reassurance through a strained smile. Yet the old man remained grave—

“I will not live long enough to grow senile without knowing my time of death—no, I doubt I’ll last much longer at all. That is why I wish to speak with you earnestly about a certain matter.”

And so that night until around ten o'clock, old man Tomioka's parlor alternated between occasional bursts of conversation and stretches of heavy silence. At times, old man Tomioka’s cough could be heard. The following day, the village headman sent a lengthy letter to Takayama Bunzou, the law graduate in Tokyo, the contents of which were as follows: — "The reason I have not sent any written communication since your proposal is that there has been no opportunity to discuss the matter with old man Tomioka. In your recent letter, you wrote that two personas—Tomioka Sensei and Mr. Tomioka—were warring within this old man’s heart. I must say you were entirely correct, for I had thought the same. Yet ever since receiving your letter, what we might call the violence of Tomioka Sensei has grown ever more intense, to the point where one might well say there was not a single moment—day or night—when the visage of Mr. Tomioka showed itself. Indeed, I suspect even in his dreams, Tomioka Sensei must have been raging unchecked."

There was a reason for this: I have determined that old man Tomioka’s sudden trip to Tokyo at autumn’s start was entirely meant to secure Miss Umeko’s marriage to you. Yet for Tomioka Sensei, “Tokyo” was most forbidden—once there, he could not avoid witnessing the imposing circumstances of Marquis Etō, Count Inoue, and other senior figures from his hometown. For Tomioka Sensei, this became nothing less than a wellspring of resentment, obstinacy, and eccentricity; his veins bulged in anger until even your conduct—which he had initially aimed to leverage—turned into an irritant, and ultimately he destroyed the very purpose he himself had established before returning home. Yet upon returning and reflecting, he found the hopes he had envisioned for Miss Umeko had nearly all come to naught. Sensei had become unable to make sense of anything. Thereupon, his irritability flared up even more; he grew self-destructive; his alcohol consumption surged abruptly; his mind spiraled further into madness—until he became a truly pitiful and wretched sight to behold. This I firmly believe.

Indeed, on the very day this humble one visited Sensei regarding your proposal, his loud berating of Miss Umeko could be heard all the way outside the gate, so I deemed the timing unfavorable and promptly withdrew. Yet according to Kurazou’s account, at that time Sensei was even harshly scolding that gentle Miss Umeko—his own cherished daughter—without allowing her a word in her defense. If you imagine Sensei’s state from this, I believe even you would find it astonishing. Not only this humble one, but given these circumstances, visitors to Tomioka were few and far between. The sole exception was Hosokawa Shigeru—as you know—who, nearly every night, would call upon him and, though subjected to his shouting, seemed to offer solace.

However, last evening, having heard that old man Tomioka had recently taken to his sickbed, I went to pay him a visit—with the intention of bringing up your proposal should the opportunity arise. The old man was indeed bedridden, but what surprised me was how his vigor had entirely waned in the short time since we last met—or rather, it was less a decline in vigor than his spirit being utterly broken, transforming him into what you call “Mr. Tomioka,” an old man now thoroughly versed in ordinary worldly matters. What was even more unexpected was that he welcomed this humble one’s visit with such delight, saying he had in fact been considering sending for me. And then, as we gradually continued talking, the old man entrusted this humble one with various matters concerning his posthumous affairs. His demeanor suggested he knew his time of death was not far off, and I found myself swallowing tears despite myself. Just as I thought this presented a singular opportunity to broach your proposal and had already begun to open my mouth—most unexpectedly—the old man himself brought up Miss Umeko’s situation. It goes like this: “I intend to wed my daughter to Hosokawa Shigeru; he has expressed his desire as well. Though I was initially reluctant, upon reflection, I believe this would be an extremely good match for both my daughter and Hosokawa. I would ask that you yourself act as the matchmaker in this matter.” This humble one, having that matter in mind, was at a loss for words; however, upon immediately reconsidering, I gladly accepted this request.

The reason I say this—though it pains me to tell you—is that since Hosokawa made his proposal first and the old man had already consented, your hopes were now dashed; regrettably, even this humble one could do nothing about it. Upon deeper reflection, I believe this match would still have ended in Hosokawa Shigeru’s success even had your proposal come first—the reasons for which I leave entirely to your conjecture; you, who knew Tomioka Sensei well, would surely grasp them immediately.

Moreover, this humble one wishes for Hosokawa’s fervent hopes to be realized just as earnestly as I desire the fulfillment of your own aspirations—in this matter, I hold not the slightest partiality. Even you must surely rejoice for Hosokawa’s sake now that his wish has been fulfilled. Moreover, for Miss Umeko’s sake too, it will be a cause for joy. And from what this humble one has observed, Miss Umeko also appears to be happy about marrying Hosokawa.

If this isn’t a good match, what else could it be? No sooner had this humble one agreed to act as matchmaker than I sent for Hosokawa; Hosokawa came at once. There, with Miss Umeko also taking her seat and all four parties present together, old man Tomioka once more addressed Hosokawa directly to grant him Miss Umeko’s hand, while from Miss Umeko’s own lips came the pledge that she harbored not the slightest objection to her father’s decision and would gladly wed Mr. Hosokawa—the wedding date being set as the twentieth of next October, precisely as the old man decreed. The lot finally fell to the remaining suitor.

I have no doubt that congratulatory messages will also be sent from your side to old man Tomioka and Hosokawa.

VI

The wedding was happily concluded. The countryside lay beneath autumn skies scrubbed clean of clouds, and in Principal Hosokawa Shigeru’s garden, the bride in her ornate headdress knelt half-crouched to hang laundry. At November’s end, Tomioka Sensei finally departed this world—his home province now bereft of its most notorious son. Two or three major Tokyo newspapers carried a black-bordered announcement spanning twenty lines, where names stood ranked like soldiers: disciple Takayama Bunzou, relative Hosokawa Shigeru, friend Viscount Nogami. Countrymen who saw this notice nodded at once—“So Sensei’s gone at last”—but among the wider readership, some puzzled over what grandee warranted such fanfare while others flipped past without a glance.

However, this advertisement was Tomioka Sensei’s final roar in this world—the discontent-filled teacher’s meager venting of frustrations, leaked through acquaintances. A few thoughtful countrymen saw this and wept.