Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Yōko Kusaka

Nanbara Sugiko. She was born on Mars Day. Under the influence of Mars, the god of war closest to Earth, she radiates that energy most intensely. She possesses a combative nature and is proactive in pursuing her goals, yet hers is a troubled fate. Moreover, in the final act of her life, she takes her stand at a complex crossroads, ignoring the signal, and invites disaster upon herself.

1

Nanbara Sugiko suddenly emerged into a small society—specifically, upon two married couples. Neither her age nor her history was known.

In the Osaka suburbs, deep within a certain alley in Minamitabata: stone gateposts and a wooden gate. And three stepping stones. A lattice-door entrance. A steep staircase. Yellowed sliding doors. A six-tatami-mat room facing the garden. Clothes hung on the wall. In the corner was a mandarin orange box. Inside were dishes and kitchen utensils. A square linen handkerchief clung flat against the windowpane. Nanbara Sugiko ate two slices of toast, drank a glass of milk, and then quickly changed clothes.

At ten o'clock, Nanbara Sugiko appeared on the fourth floor of a building in the business district. On the third day after escaping Tokyo, she became a part-time employee in the advertising department of a spinning company. Her job encompassed everything related to commercial broadcasting. It had not yet been a month, but she had already begun pouring Tokyo’s—or rather, Nanbara Sugiko’s own seething blood—into Kansai’s lukewarm waters. Company executives, broadcasting company personnel, and performers alike were astonished by Nanbara Sugiko’s extraordinary work ethic. Ms. Nanbara—she never put on airs. She fully mastered the art of letting people approach her intimately, innocently, and generously—embracing them and putting them at ease.

Nanbara Sugiko’s inexhaustible vitality. That was something everyone knew. By now, there was little point in probing into her life-for-life’s sake.

2 Having a river flowing through the city's heart was a good thing, even if its waters were polluted. Modern high-rise buildings and restaurants with balustrades reflected in the water without any harmony. Near a bridge that might have had gas lamps, the glass windows of "Kalevala" became visible. It too faced the river, its entrance on the streetcar avenue. Though a coffee shop, when customers entered, they didn't even take orders.

Nanbara Sugiko had been working on documents at a small round table in the corner for some time now. Having come to a completely unfamiliar Osaka, the first shop she randomly entered was this one. Though she didn’t find the coffee particularly good, it was the staff’s unbusinesslike attitude and the pleasure of gazing at the river that made her keep coming back frequently. Perhaps she had also developed some fondness for the name Kalevala. “Another glass of water, please.”

Lifting the empty glass and calling out toward the counter, she then noticed two or three customers noisily entering at that moment. “You must be exhausted.” “Please, right this way.” “Do take some rest in the back room.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Ms. Horai, Kalevala remains as tranquil as ever.” “That’s right.” “Those unaccustomed to business are hopeless, aren’t they?” “But I don’t mind—this place is perfect for practice, you know.”

In the meantime, a glass of water was placed on the table before Nanbara Sugiko. The customers, to be precise, were two in number. That one of them was the madam here—this much Nanbara Sugiko had vaguely understood. Now, an elderly woman with remarkably disheveled hair and a portly frame. While responding composedly to the service of the madam called Horai, on her way to the back, she glanced in Nanbara Sugiko’s direction. Nanbara Sugiko also looked up at her. It was lead singer Ms. Taniyama. She had met her several times before, but Ms. Taniyama didn’t notice. Because despite Nanbara Sugiko’s strikingly memorable appearance, she had so thoroughly concealed her own history that not even a trace of her Tokyo-era self showed on the surface. Ms. Taniyama and another male companion followed the madam into the back room. Nanbara Sugiko downed the water in one go and resumed her work. She had already forgotten about Ms. Taniyama. She was listening to the piano sounds and a woman’s singing voice that had begun drifting from the back room. The one singing must be the madam. Before long, young women carrying sheet music came one by one, two by two, and were shown to the back room.

When Nanbara Sugiko finished her writing and let her fountain pen fall onto the desk, a voice exclaimed, "Oh!"

“Oh—so it was you after all (though I’d actually noticed already).” “I didn’t realize earlier. With a different hairstyle, you look completely different. Still busy as ever?” The man who had taken the chair next to Nanbara Sugiko hurriedly lit a cigarette. He seemed to have come out from the back to smoke. Nanbara Sugiko also took out a cigarette. “She’s using too much portamento. The mama-san here is learning to sing as a hobby.”

“Well, perhaps it’s a hobby,” he said. “But she’s rather well-known in Kansai, you know.” “Ms. Taniyama didn’t pass either, it seems.”

Nanbara Sugiko laughed nonchalantly. “But she does have a good voice.”

“Who? Ah, Mama-san?” “Having a good voice is an inborn gift.” “Mozart or a Gypsy song?” The man remained silent. “That’s the sort of thing only an amateur would say.” The man stayed silent again. “Why not carve out time to indulge your hobby?” “The sponsor’s a temp agency.” “What exactly can you do, Ms. Nanbara?” “Me? Pantomime.”

The man laughed. Nanbara Sugiko found it immensely amusing that she had made the man laugh. This was because despite having met him two or three times before, she had never once seen him laugh.

Nishina Rokurō. He was employed at a broadcasting company. Nanbara Sugiko only engaged in business-like conversation with him regarding work matters.

“Do you come to this café here often?” “Often. “But I’ve never spoken with Mama-san.” “Shall I introduce you?”

“(Interested? You probably are.) Please do.”

Just then, the Madam came out. She was in excellent spirits. There, a routine introduction took place.

Nanbara Sugiko. Nishina Rokurō. Horai Kazuko.

It’s not uncommon for significant connections to form quite by chance in the most unexpected places. In such cases, once it has become the past, the circumstances of its origin are no particular concern. Everything begins from the most ordinary, trivial of places.

That day's meeting ended there for the three of them. Nanbara Sugiko put her coffee money into her handbag and left Kalevala. Nishina Rokurō and Horai Kazuko had already vanished from her thoughts. Though she usually wore her hair up, today she had left it down. I should have shown Horai Kazuko my hair up when we first met, Nanbara Sugiko merely thought to herself. She walked confidently down the street toward the dance studio. She taught dance three times a week. At the studio, she became Akabane-sensei—those who came there believed she was solely a dance instructor. Separately, she also taught piano at the studio. She had about ten students. They were convinced she was exclusively a piano teacher. There was truly no doubt about it.

It was two or three days after their first meeting that Nanbara Sugiko recalled Horai Kazuko. She had been too busy to find time to stop by Kalevala. Along with the midday siren, she jumped into the elevator and came to the broadcasting company, where she unexpectedly encountered Nishina Rokurō at the reception. “Thank you for the other day.”

Nanbara Sugiko exchanged brief greetings and went to meet with the business contacts. At that moment, she recalled Horai Kazuko's cheerful, fluent speaking voice. And suddenly, Nanbara Sugiko wanted to see her. It was out of curiosity. After finishing her company business and hurrying down the narrow corridor to the reception desk, she found Nishina Rokurō still there.

“Would you like to go get some soba?” Nanbara Sugiko laid out soba, Nishina, and Horai Kazuko in her mind and considered them.

“I have some business to take care of. Next time.”

The elevator door closed. Nishina Rokurō wore a cold expression. She contemplated the relationship between Horai Kazuko and Nishina Rokurō.

Upon entering Kalevala, there was the sound of a piano coming from the back where the madam was practicing her vocal exercises. Nanbara Sugiko thought that if she wanted customers to hear her, she should sing jazz instead before giving a wry smile. Not a single customer was there. The narcissus on the counter was beginning to wilt. The girl said while making coffee, “Shall I call Mama-san?” Nanbara Sugiko smiled and nodded.

“Oh, you’re here! I’ve been waiting for you!” “I’m sorry about the other day—I was just so busy…” “So I’ve heard. Roku-chan told me. They say you handle everything single-handedly.” “(Roku-chan... You seem quite close.) He’s so scatterbrained—utterly hopeless at his job... Lovely establishment.” “Do enjoy yourself.”

“Oh my! We’re not making a single yen. You’re from Tokyo, aren’t you? I’m Ms. Taniyama’s disciple, you know. Ah, you noticed my mentor earlier, didn’t you? That’s how she comes once a month for lessons. All of Ms. Taniyama’s disciples in Kansai come here, you see. I can’t tell whether this is a café or a practice studio, you see.”

Nanbara Sugiko liked people who would talk at length to her. She could think about other things in the meantime while still observing them thoroughly.

What kind of life did this person lead? Here she was praising Taniyama again—since Taniyama had no disciples in Tokyo, she flitted down to Kansai—but wait—there was a shadow around her neck. She must be quite old— "You don’t play music?" "I like it, but I have no talent."

“You—if you don’t mind me asking—how old are you?” “I’m too embarrassed to say my age (though honestly—how old am I really?).” “Oh, I’m sorry. You look so young—and all alone.” “Yes.” “And your family?”

“Tokyo.” “Oh, so you’re all alone then?” “Well.”

Nanbara Sugiko finally burst out laughing. It was because Horai Kazuko’s questions were utterly uninteresting. However, Horai Kazuko herself thought that this woman must have a man. “How nice for you. You must be enjoying yourself.”

Nanbara Sugiko’s wry smile deepened. “Tokyo must be nice.” “Did you attend a women’s university there?” “Not at all.” “Oh...” “I used to visit Tokyo often before the war.” “Hibiya... how nostalgic.” “You know, after having those sweets with me, I’ve grown quite fond of you.” “Your hairstyle is charming.” From Nanbara Sugiko’s side, there wasn’t a single opening to ask anything. But even without trying to ask, she had perceived that Horai Kazuko was the type who couldn’t keep secrets. Just as expected,

“You don’t like sweets? Wouldn’t you care for some beer?” “Let’s have some.”

With that, the two of them gulped it down, and afterward, Horai Kazuko began talking even more. Twenty years ago, she had graduated from a school in the Hanshin area known as Kansai’s Gakushūin, married immediately afterward, and now lived in a duplex built on the site of a mansion destroyed in the war, separate from her brother and his family in the other wing. Her parents back home had died one after another after the war, but they had been famous wealthy people in Kansai, related to a certain imperial aide-de-camp and a former foreign minister. Both pianos had been kept in the storehouse and survived the fire; one of them had been brought here. At home, she taught songs to small children. Because her husband’s salary was meager, she had ended up opening this sort of establishment. It had been three years. Horai Kazuko spoke of all these matters, encompassing the sorrowful reality of the declining aristocracy.

“Ms. Taniyama’s students’ recital is coming up soon.” “Please do come listen with Roku-chan.”

Her monologue seemed to have finally reached a pause. However, the last name mentioned was Nishina Rokurō’s. Then, in rapid-fire succession, Horai Kazuko launched into speech once more. “Roku-chan and I have been acquainted for ten years, you know.” “He’s such a wonderful person, and it would be good for you to associate with him.” “I really like him.” “He does too, you know.” “He told me he likes me.” “But you know… Hohohoho!”

Thinking that Kazuko’s monologue was finally drawing to a close, Nanbara Sugiko let out a breath. But, “I’ve come to like you, you know.” “Your aura is marvelous—let’s become good friends.” “Let’s have a drink with Roku-chan sometime—just the three of us.” “I’m so delighted.” “I’ve had the pleasure of meeting someone like you.”

Nanbara Sugiko spotted a white hand before her eyes. She had been asked to shake hands. Nanbara Sugiko casually extended her hand. She thought it was a strange sensation. Within the middle-aged woman’s withered exterior, she unexpectedly sensed a tenacious sensuality. “Don’t you feel lonely without any children?” Nanbara Sugiko took out a handkerchief under the table and, while wiping away the lingering sensation, asked.

“Oh my，it’s easier without them.” “But why did you come to notice that I don’t have any?”

“I can tell—you’re still young, after all.”

The conversation was over.

Nanbara Sugiko left Kalevala. It was extremely pleasant. Was it because of the beer? Was it due to Horai Kazuko's loquaciousness? No—Nanbara Sugiko had forgotten both the taste of beer and the prolonged loquaciousness. Why was it so pleasant? She herself hardly noticed. When she passed the tram street and turned toward the spinning company, she discovered what that pleasantness was. That was the presence of Nishina Rokurō.

Three

“Hey, quit with the ‘Ms.’ already.” “Why did you suddenly bring that up?” “You don’t seem willing to take off that mask at all.” “So even I end up having to be conscious of you as ‘Ms.,’ and I hate that.” “(I do want to discover my raw self soon.)”

“Then what should I call you?” “Anan.” “Anan—is that a nickname?” “No. No one calls me Anan. I’m the only one who uses that name—though to be honest, I just came up with it now. Ananda was a man, wasn’t he?”

“Why?” “Just because.”

Nishina Rokurō put strength into both arms and unconsciously bit around the area of his wheat-colored shoulder. The one being held was Nanbara Sugiko.

“Hey, why did we end up here?” “I don’t know.” “That’s not an answer like you at all.” “It’s just a spur of the moment thing.” “You’re becoming less like yourself by the minute.” “(It seems I’ve been preempted.) Do these ‘spur of the moment’ things happen often?” “And they’re not limited to specific targets.” “Then what about you?” “Call me Anan. I’m not some spur-of-the-moment thing—” “—or maybe I am?” “Was this something you planned?”

“No, you see— “It’s as if I’m the one who seduced you. “It’s just that some force was acting, and things turned out this way.” “That’s a strange philosophy. “There’s no logic there.” “Spur-of-the-moment things are precisely what’s inherently illogical.”

The two laughed. And they embraced each other tightly. While feeling the sensation of Nishina Rokurō’s lips pressed firmly against her neck, Nanbara Sugiko once again reconsidered how Horai Kazuko’s presence had brought Rokurō and herself closer together. Nishina Rokurō existed because of Horai Kazuko. “There’s something between you and the Madam of Kalevala, isn’t there?”

“Why?”

“Because we both like each other, don’t we?”

While fastening her dress snaps, she asked Nishina Rokurō. There was no reply. Nanbara Sugiko intuited he was feigning deafness.

When parting at the station, Nanbara Sugiko discovered a certain coldness around the back of Nishina Rokurō’s head—he who had briefly made a gesture as if to say something before sealing his lips and walking away briskly without turning—and found herself intensely drawn to it. Yet the moment she boarded the train, that sensation transformed into a pang of loneliness. And once again, she recalled the day’s events. It had only been a day since yesterday.

Yesterday, she went to Kalevala and met Ms. Horai, experienced a thrill on her way back, and today, she met Nishina Rokurō with emotions unlike any before. “Today I’ll treat you to soba.”

“Let’s go.” They talked for two hours at the soba restaurant. Most of it was talk about broadcasting. Nishina Rokurō vehemently asserted that broadcasting was an art form. He then spoke about what direction entailed. “Novelists can write as many pages as they want, painters can create canvases of any size, and neither films nor plays have time constraints—yet broadcasting is bound by such constraints.” “Every single second.” “It gives me the creeps.” He replied that within time constraints, it was both challenging and crucial to make every single second count effectively. In work discussions, they never revealed their true selves to each other.

“Would you care for a drink?” This time，Nishina Rokurō extended the invitation． “Then I’ll finish my work by five o’clock—in about two hours．At Kalevala．” “At Kalevala．”

Nishina Rokurō was momentarily flustered but replied, "That’s fine." Nanbara Sugiko’s specifying Kalevala as their meeting place wasn’t done with the intention of inviting anyone should Horai Kazuko be present. She was absent today. Yesterday, she had heard the shop girl having a brief chat with someone. She had said she had business in Kobe from five o’clock.

Nanbara Sugiko hurried to the dance studio. Letting her hair down and applying rouge lavishly, she continued dancing until five minutes to five, then tied up her hair and came to Kalevala. Nishina Rokurō was gazing at the river. Under Nishina Rokurō’s guidance, they went to a bar. The barwoman looked at Nanbara Sugiko with curiosity. And listened curiously to their words. They drank beer and whiskey.

“Ms., are you single?” “(Everyone’s obsessed with the same thing...) No one ever proposes to someone like me.” “You don’t plan to marry, do you?” “Well... I suppose not.” “I lack that confidence.” “But you’re quite popular, aren’t you?” “Wait now.” “Confidence—it’s that a wife’s confidence never truly exists, you see.” “Why?” “I can’t seem to put men at ease.” “A housewife’s duty requires boundless tolerance.” “Yet I’m hopelessly self-centered.” “If married, I’d have an obligation to soothe my husband—but I’d surely only vex him endlessly.”

“Even though you have no experience.” “I should be able to make an educated guess based on my own disposition.” “What about love?” “I do. But I won’t marry.” “Do you have confidence in love?” “You’re such a logician, aren’t you? If I fall in love, from that very day onward, there’s no such thing as confidence.” Living. Even if I have confidence in my work... “When I fall in love, I become blind.” “You?” “Is that true?”

“It’s true.”

Nanbara Sugiko felt an odd sensation even as she said, “It’s true.” Because she could make herself become a blindly devoted woman didn’t mean she had truly become one. She realized this fact. “Did you have a love marriage?”

“No—an arranged marriage. Just one meeting.” “How many years has it been?” “Four years.” “Do you have any children?” “Not yet. I do want them, though.”

Suddenly, Nanbara Sugiko let out a laugh. Noticing Nishina Rokurō’s gaze,

“No, you see—I was imagining what your love must be like. A romance that’s explored the very limits of possibility.” “One plus one equals two, I suppose?”

“You saw through me.” “Indeed, I’m a man who must have one plus one equal two.” “In all things.”

“You’re no poet. Just a broadcaster after all.” “What about you?” “I.” “I don’t calculate my actions.” “Even if one plus one becomes three or doesn’t add up to two, that’s fine.” “Because there are indeed things that can’t be neatly divided.” “With things you can’t resolve about yourself, you manage to live on.” “Oh, it’s precisely because there are things we can’t resolve that we live.”

“I don’t get it.” “I don’t get it.”

Nanbara Sugiko felt that she must not fall in love with this man.

At that moment, “But I’ve fallen in love with you.” “Could it be because I seem like someone living in a completely unknown world?”

The two of them left the bar.

“You’re strong, aren’t you?” “It’s sad that I can’t get drunk.” “It feels nice for a little while, but I sometimes find myself wanting to completely forget who I am.” “I used to reach that pleasant state often before.” “Even when listening to music, even when gazing at scenery.” “But it’s no use anymore.” “I’m constantly aware of myself.”

“I’ve always been a man who knows no intoxication in life. When I look at things, I never let subjectivity color my view. I learned that through music—that thing called Neue Sachlichkeit. It’s become a method for interpreting how to live.” “You’re a strong one—in evil, no less.” Suddenly, Nishina Rokurō’s hand and Nanbara Sugiko’s hand touched. They clasped hands.

It was in front of a certain hotel.

Nanbara Sugiko finished her recollection on the second floor of her boarding house. It was late at night. She had completely severed Nishina Rokurō from Horai Kazuko. Even without Madam’s presence, she thought things between her and Nishina Rokurō would have turned out that way regardless.

What is love? Nishina Rokurō and she herself did not understand each other. He knew neither her past nor her present life in any depth. She had merely shown a part of herself—quietly. Even if he came to know thirty percent of her, in reality it wouldn’t amount to ten percent. She, too, did not understand most of him. His age was probably around thirty-five or thirty-six. In his fourth year of marriage—was he just another ordinary man? No, she tried to deny it. And her denial wasn’t born of pride, but because she thought there existed something remarkably pure in him—something that transcended carnal desire. It’s enough just to feel. In other words, understanding was unnecessary in love.

Nanbara Sugiko rubbed the stub of the cigarette into the ashtray and laughed for a while.

Observing herself being drawn to Nishina Rokurō—that is, Anan, the newly born Anan—made her forget the complicated, arid life of Ms. Nanbara and the teacher, returning her to her true self. It was her own solace and her own interest—

Nanbara Sugiko changed into her nightclothes and laid out the futon.

—Anan. Fall in love. Burn—

Four

It was a few days before Ms. Taniyama’s Kansai students’ recital.

Nishina Rokurō, Horai Kazuko, and Nanbara Sugiko held their second three-person meeting. Was it about the third week? In pairs, they had been meeting frequently. The relationship between Nishina Rokurō and Nanbara Sugiko—or rather, the part of her that was Anan—had grown increasingly deep. However, they maintained their mutually isolated lives. They did not stay out overnight. During work-related times, they were nothing more than the work-related Nishina and Nanbara. Where others’ eyes were present, Anan was completely expelled from within Nanbara Sugiko. To outward appearances, Horai Kazuko and Nanbara Sugiko also seemed to be deepening their intimacy as fellow women. But Nanbara Sugiko did not lay herself bare. For example—matters of life, love, music—Horai Kazuko chattered away in her usual manner. “I’m non-moral—I have affairs with men other than my husband.” “I’m a humanist, you know—I’m devoted solely to truth.” Nanbara Sugiko listened with panting breaths. Even when occasionally asked things like “you…”, she would say, “I don’t know.” Using the truth of masks as a pretext while trying to sell the truth of pretense—Nanbara Sugiko smiled wryly. Horai Kazuko secretly looked down on Nanbara Sugiko as a surprisingly shallow woman. But still, she lavishly praised you as a wonderful person. She said she was being truthful toward you. Nishina Rokurō’s name often came up as a topic.

“He’s a good man,” Nanbara Sugiko said. Once, Horai Kazuko’s gaze and Nanbara Sugiko’s gaze clashed over Nishina Rokurō for some time. They tried to read each other’s innermost thoughts. Horai Kazuko’s age had reached the point where she interpreted expressing jealousy in front of another woman as something profoundly unbecoming.

“Seeing how close you and Mr. Nishina are makes me jealous,” said Nanbara Sugiko. Horai Kazuko basked in her superiority for a while.

Nishina Rokurō and Horai Kazuko had been meeting occasionally. Horai Kazuko, as if spurred by Nanbara Sugiko's emergence, came to feel affection for Nishina Rokurō. This was Horai Kazuko's genuine love. Nishina Rokurō told Horai Kazuko that he loved Nanbara Sugiko. "Oh how jealous I am, Roku-chan!" "But that person really is wonderful, isn't she?" That became Horai Kazuko's reply. Once again, she told Nanbara Sugiko only what Nishina Rokurō had confessed to her. At that moment, Nanbara Sugiko became absolutely certain. In other words - the relationship between Nishina Rokurō and Horai Kazuko. It existed.

Now, the three-person meeting began with a discussion of the music review. It was the bar Horai Kazuko had taken them to. “O-Sugi,” (Horai Kazuko had begun calling her this way at some point) “you have such refined sensibilities—even without musical knowledge, you could share impressions rather than critiques, couldn’t you?” “Could you let me hear them?” “Oh my, I haven’t the faintest idea, but your voice is simply wonderful—such good taste.” Horai Kazuko launched into a series of criticisms about the other students. Nishina Rokurō also chimed in. Nanbara Sugiko listened with a smirking smile.

“Roku-chan. Why are you sitting there silent in the middle? Isn’t it nice having two flowers by your side?”

Horai Kazuko and Nanbara Sugiko moved away from music and were talking about commonplace fashion trends. "I don't know anything about clothes."

“Oh, I’m sorry. Don’t leave me out now, hey, Roku-chan. What do you think of O-Sugi’s black suit? It doesn’t suit her at all. O-Sugi looks better in bright colors.”

Nanbara Sugiko was well aware that black was difficult to wear stylishly and that it only suited true beauties. However, two or three days prior, Nishina Rokurō had lavishly praised Nanbara Sugiko’s outfit.

“I’m completely clueless about color coordination.” “When O-Sugi wears black, she looks too prim.” Nanbara Sugiko removed her suit jacket with a sharp smile. A snow-white sleeveless silk blouse. It was the season when everyone wore long undergarments. Therefore, her bare, unrestrained arms appeared rather provocative under the pale green electric light, and for a while, both Nishina Rokurō and Horai Kazuko remained silent. Nanbara Sugiko had retaliated against Nishina Rokurō for not praising her black attire.

“Aren’t you cold?” “How youthful of you.” “I’m always like this under my coat all winter.” “That’s so like you, O-Sugi—always so active.” The conversation grew tangled. This was because they had drunk quite heavily. The footing of the other customers dancing away from the stands was unsteady. Jazz, imbued with sweetness and melancholy, seeped in among the three of them. “O-Sugi, can you dance?” “Yes, you too?” “I don’t know. “Dance with Roku-chan.”

“Ms., care to dance?”

Nanbara Sugiko stood up. Horai Kazuko assumed her usual talkative pose toward the madam in the stand. Nishina Rokurō's dancing was utterly beyond bad. However, Nanbara Sugiko obediently followed his footwork as she danced. Horai Kazuko didn't so much as turn around. Yet it was clear she remained acutely aware of what was happening behind her. Nanbara Sugiko extended her left hand slightly and touched Nishina Rokurō around the nape of his neck. Nishina Rokurō tightened his right hand. Their lips swiftly met.

“Roku-chan.” “How enviable.” “You get to dance with O-Sugi.” When the song ended, Horai Kazuko turned around and winked at Nishina Rokurō as she called out to him.

“Mama-san, I’ll lead, so dance with me.” Nanbara Sugiko thought she wanted to touch Horai Kazuko’s body because the forty-year-old woman suddenly appeared vibrant. “Oh, I’m so happy.” “O-Sugi. Will you teach me?”

Nanbara Sugiko lightly embraced Horai Kazuko, who had jumped down from the high chair. “Put both hands on my shoulders, don’t tense your legs—it’s four-beat time.” “Follow the music.” Nanbara Sugiko felt Horai Kazuko’s sallow flesh through the wool skirt. “Don’t look at your feet.”

Horai Kazuko raised her face. Nanbara Sugiko observed the sagging beneath her eyes, the dark shadows formed by that sagging, and the fine wrinkles along her hairline—all clearly visible through slightly smudged makeup. However, she felt no sense of superiority. For while her facial features spoke of past beauty, her looks had already faded. Her body was frail, her sensibility utterly null. Her intellect was shallow. Yet she possessed charm. She held an eerie allure. Horai Kazuko was a woman who prided herself on being desired. What on earth made Horai Kazuko such an ostentatious presence? Nanbara Sugiko felt an unprecedented interest surging toward Horai Kazuko. The song ended.

“I was happy… to dance with you. I’m glad I vaguely remembered a man’s steps.”

Nanbara Sugiko’s attitude transformed completely. Nishina Rokurō pulled an inscrutable face. Nanbara Sugiko had offered Horai Kazuko words imbued with such intimate kindness—so abruptly, to such an extent. “Oh my, me too. “Please dance with me often from now on.” “You’re a wonderful person, I like you.” “I like you too. “I do adore beautiful people.” Horai Kazuko was utterly elated. I’ve won over another one. “Roku-chan. “Don’t be jealous—it’s fine since we’re both women.”

“What strange people.”

Nanbara Sugiko tapped her fingers two or three times on the spilled beer atop the stand and drew a triangle before Nishina Rokurō. And then immediately erased it. Nanbara Sugiko drew a triangle once again on the tatami in her second-floor boardinghouse room. Instantly, as if evoked, Anan surfaced. Anan is here. Anan is in love with Nishina Rokurō. Anan isn’t making an issue of Horai Kazuko. Anan, you—what do you think of Nanbara Sugiko?—

Anan did not answer.

V “O-Sugi is living with someone, you know.” “Definitely.” “But O-Sugi has this refreshingly straightforward quality about her, so she isn’t apure, you know.”

Horai Kazuko said to Nishina Rokurō. He remained silent. —We (Nishina Rokurō calmly regarded himself and Anan as 'we', and yet—he had already unconsciously begun calling her Anan in his consciousness—had been meeting frequently. And we knew each other’s real selves. And we must have been loving each other as well. But I knew nothing about Anan. I didn’t ask. She didn’t tell. Moreover, she never asked about my wife through anyone. The matter with Horai Kazuko had only been mentioned once. Did Anan feel no jealousy? Or was I merely an object of momentary pleasure for her? No—that couldn’t be. I simply couldn’t see it that way. Moreover, there was certainly no other man in her life. She was fresh. Because she was always fresh. But ours was a mysterious relationship. Lovers established as comrades in silence.

Not even “I love you”—we never exchanged those words. We came to trust and understand each other in silence. It was mysterious. But this was acceptable. It was completely free and, rather, an enduring love. No—wait, it wasn’t free. When I held my wife in my arms, I involuntarily recalled Anan. It was an intangible shackle that pained him. Anan and I. We did not even speak about the future. A breakup—such a thing was unthinkable—

“Roku-chan.” “Oh, stop it!” “You’ve been so sullen lately.” “You’ve really fallen for O-Sugi, haven’t you.” “I’ve already become your roadside stone, haven’t I.” “I’m not saying I want us to go back to how we were ten years ago.” “But you should confide everything to me, shouldn’t you.” “Ah, no—I don’t want to hear it.” “I understand.” “I do understand.”

Horai Kazuko slapped Nishina Rokurō’s cheek as hard as she could. Nishina Rokurō did not feel anything from being struck. He had been thinking of nothing but Anan.

It was 10 PM on a day two weeks after the three-person meeting. It was in an alleyway after their drinking session. Nishina Rokurō and Horai Kazuko’s day together was not yet over. Both kept insisting on drinking more, began again with awkward expressions, and by the time they finally finished, the Kobe-bound train Horai Kazuko was supposed to take had already left.

“Come stay at the house.”

Horai Kazuko had often stayed out overnight. Moreover, she had done so yesterday and the day before as well. She immediately followed Nishina Rokurō. Horai Kazuko still did not know Nishina Rokurō's wife. And she thought that having missed the train had been a good thing. She was a confident woman. Namely, in terms of beauty. Namely, in terms of intellect.

Nishina Rokurō slowed his pace.

“Which house?” “No—not yet.”

“Then let’s hurry.”

Horai Kazuko was in a good mood.

“Is it still far?” “It’s just around that corner.” Nishina Rokurō’s pace grew increasingly slow.

“What’s wrong? Have you had too much to drink?” Horai Kazuko had brushed aside the earlier strained atmosphere and now looked forward to basking in the trust of the person she was about to meet. Nishina Rokurō sensed this and felt bitter. He suddenly sympathized with his wife.

Under the dim electric light, his wife Takako was mending socks. Somewhat flustered by the sudden intruders, she began preparing tea. “You haven’t had dinner yet, have you?” “Um, I’m quite all right.” “I really don’t want anything, so I’m terribly sorry to disturb you this late.” “I’ll eat.” Nishina Rokurō knew that Takako always waited for his return without eating. While the couple was eating, Horai Kazuko began chatting beside them.

“What a wonderful couple you are—I’m envious. You have such a wonderful wife—how fortunate you are.” The meal ended. Nishina Rokurō concealed his bitter feelings and spoke gently to Takako. Takako was pleased by that. It feels good to show other women that my husband loves me. Through Horai Kazuko’s skillful conversation, even that initial sense of shame had been completely erased. Takako absolutely believed in her husband. She held affection for her husband. That was something Horai Kazuko had been the very first to grasp.

“I’m sorry.” “Hey... I—I doubted you a bit, you know? I was wrong.” “Please forgive me.” “She seems like a good person, doesn’t she?”

After Horai Kazuko was shown to the second-floor room, the chaste wife whispered to her husband while preparing the bedding. It was around three o'clock. Until then, the three of them had been pleasantly engaging in casual conversation. Horai Kazuko had confirmed that she had gained the trust of his wife. And she immediately fell asleep.

It was a terrifying innocence. She was only jealous of Nanbara Sugiko. If Nishina Rokurō's caresses were directed at Takako, she wouldn't particularly mind. On the contrary, she found it enjoyable to imagine the situation downstairs. It resembled the erotic pleasure of common matchmaking maniacs. Containing a strange superiority.

Nishina Rokurō could not sleep a wink. More than the woman upstairs or his sound-asleep wife, it was because Anan was laughing within his consciousness. Horai Kazuko had never once mentioned Nanbara Sugiko’s name in Takako’s presence. Nishina Rokurō, of course, had not mentioned it either. He felt relieved that the topic hadn’t come up, yet conversely found himself resenting Horai Kazuko’s contrived attitude. Nishina Rokurō felt compelled to disturb Takako’s peaceful sleep. And he pressed his lips against her eyelids. Takako remained asleep. The Anan inside him still smiled on. Nishina Rokurō resolved that come tomorrow, he would finally grasp Anan’s true identity.

Dawn was near.

Nanbara Sugiko spent a sleepless night.

Anan, you need to think carefully. Nishina Rokurō might be satisfied continuing things as they are, but he has a wife—

No matter what I say, it’s no use—Anan is already running on the tracks. She doesn’t have brakes.—

—Then where is Nanbara Sugiko headed? —— —Anan is dragging Nanbara Sugiko along as she runs. But I don’t even know Anan’s destination. She’s running with her eyes closed— I can’t marry him.

Someday…—

—Don’t say it.—

Anan. I love Anan who is in love. But... but I don’t want to end up miserable. If it means becoming miserable...—— —No, I can’t.

Anan runs onward. On and on—

Roku

At Kalevala, a vase of anemones had been arranged with vibrant vitality. It was something Nanbara Sugiko had arranged to be delivered through a florist.

“You receiving flowers—huh.” “Makes me question the sender’s taste.” “I did say I’d let you meet them once.” “You claim she’s wonderful, but women are all much the same.” “If they’re identical, you must’ve grown weary of your affairs by now.” “Mostly identical—but discovering where they differ proves amusing. What about you occasionally?” “Oh, I remain unchanged.” “I retain considerable interest in men beyond you.”

“Well, go all out then.” “But if my wife’s been staying out three days straight, even for a husband who publicly condones her affairs, it’s my duty to at least show some concern—wondering if she’s hurt or sick somewhere.” “Not that I think it’s something as dramatic as a lovers’ suicide.” “After all, I’m still somewhat connected to you.” “If this string keeps getting pulled, there’s a chance responsibility could come dragging back to me.”

“How very considerate of you.” “If you have such noble sentiments, then please work harder to earn more.” “You can’t live on a mere ten thousand yen a month.” “That’s true.” “But that’s separate from the matter of affairs.” “My affairs are done in two hours, but yours take three days.”

Horai Kazuko and her husband Kensuke were continuing their pointless argument at an idle Kalevala. Horai Kazuko believed she had her husband completely figured out. Even if he went on about affairs with his mouth, she thought him too cowardly to actually do anything. In reality, Kensuke engaged in flamboyant womanizing but considered maintaining a long-term relationship with any one woman utterly foolish. Fundamentally, love was something felt in a moment; when that moment ceased to be a moment, it became ennui. On top of that, there was only carnal desire. He did not consider his wife as anything but a tool. A tool should have its function, but the wife did not perform the primary one—bearing children. She couldn’t. The second function—tidying the house, cooking, and waiting for her husband’s return—she did not perform. She was unfit as a wife. Yet Kensuke had only ever acknowledged his wife’s worth in how others had envied her beauty. That too belonged to a bygone era. Now his wife had nothing left, yet they remained legally married—a couple recognized by society. He himself was merely acknowledging it.

“Fine then—you’re just a park bench. You’re communal property.”

When Horai Kazuko was about to respond to the insult of being called a bench, the door opened, and Nanbara Sugiko’s cheerful voice rang out.

“Have the flowers arrived?” “Ah yes—they’re here. How thoughtful.” “Oh my! Thank you so much, O-Sugi.” “I’m so happy.”

Horai Kazuko rose from her chair and approached Nanbara Sugiko. “They were just so beautiful in front of the florist’s. Ahh, I’m exhausted.” “You must be busy, I imagine. It’s grown quite warm, hasn’t it?”

Nanbara Sugiko noticed a man looking their way.

“O-Sugi. “My Dantsuku.” “There we go.” “You—the one you’ve been waiting for is here.” Horai Kazuko laughed in a slightly sarcastic manner. After giving a slight bow,

“Hey, could you keep this for me?” “I’ve got to rush off now.” Horai Kazuko noticed the large furoshiki bundle for the first time. Because until then, she had been preoccupied with observing Nanbara Sugiko’s appearance.

“Yes yes, I’ll keep it for you.” “Oh, right right—I stayed at Roku-chan’s place yesterday.” “Mrs. Nishina is such a lovely person.” “They’re so close!” Horai Kazuko scrutinized Nanbara Sugiko’s expression, but Nanbara Sugiko remained composed. Horai Kazuko was slightly disappointed. But she found it amusing that she had mentioned last night’s events to her husband behind her in a way he could overhear. “Well then, I’ll take my leave.” “I’ll come again.”

Nanbara Sugiko exchanged a visual greeting with Horai Kensuke and hurried out.

Afterward.

“Well?” “She’s way better than you.” Horai Kazuko didn’t particularly get angry. “Hey, what do you think? Is she a virgin?” “Is she a virgin or not?” “That’s none of my business.” “Hey, she seems to be with Roku-chan.” “So you’re saying you’re jealous? How pathetic." “By the way, you stayed at Roku-chan’s place last night.” “The fact that you went out of your way to mention that just shows how clueless you are.”

“Why am I being so airheaded?” “What’s wrong with saying it?” “I tried to gauge your reaction, but it didn’t work.” “Just leave me alone. Blah blah blah, you’re insufferable!” Rather than what dealings Nanbara Sugiko had with Nishina Rokurō, Horai Kazuko wanted to know her feelings toward him.

Enough already. She should either be jealous of me or suffer—then try confessing it all to me, the trustworthy me. Sinister passion. Anemone flowers— Horai Kazuko was beginning to feel a slight hatred toward Nanbara Sugiko. Nanbara Sugiko frequently appeared at Kalevala yet never uttered a single word about Nishina Rokurō. And Nishina Rokurō too remained silent toward Horai Kazuko. “What’s that package?” Kensuke was bothered that the large furoshiki-wrapped package was still left out.

“What does it matter?”

Horai Kazuko roughly carried it into the back room and immediately opened the piano lid. The piano’s notes were riddled with mistakes, and the voice was screaming hysterically. —He unexpectedly discovered some good points about his wife—

The husband left Kalevala with a wry smile.

Nanbara Sugiko hurried along the afternoon pavement. From the music store, she was heading to the lesson studio. Having bought the newly imported Frank scores, she intended to play them at once. As she walked, she did not glance around. She maintained a steady stride and stared rigidly ahead—a posture now ingrained through unconscious habit—while her mind teemed with thoughts.

It had been four whole days since I'd seen him. I was anxious. Anan was anxious. She was feeling lonely. He had been with Horai Kazuko yesterday—

She changed her course toward the broadcasting company. At that moment, someone tapped her shoulder from behind. “Anan.”

The two of them sat facing each other in a secluded corner of a nearby coffee shop. Nishina Rokurō had called the textile company twice. Both times, she had been absent. No matter what, he had resolved they must meet today. Anan too had wanted to see him again.

“I wanted to see you.” “I did too.” “Why is that, I wonder?” “I don’t know either.” “But I feel relieved now that we’ve met.” “That’s right.”

Both of them had their anxiety and doubt vanish completely. He didn’t ask unnecessary things. He didn’t say unnecessary things either. This was Nishina Rokurō's creed. Nanbara Sugiko was different. She wanted to enjoy the other’s response even when there was no need to ask. She had a curiosity to try saying things even when there was no need to say them. However, Anan said nothing because she had already come to completely trust Nishina Rokurō without a shred of doubt. Anan was fundamentally different from Nanbara Sugiko. She was a woman who fell in love. She felt jealousy too. That was precisely why she had felt anxious in her heart until she met Nishina Rokurō. Now that they were facing each other, it had completely vanished.

“I think Anan is happy.”

Anan smiled warmly. Nishina Rokurō also smiled and nodded. Then, the sheet music that had been placed under the table suddenly fell to the floor and rolled to Nishina Rokurō’s feet. “Sheet music?” “Yes.” “Whose?” “It’s Anan’s. Anan plays the piano.” “Why have you been hiding it until now?” “There was no chance to mention it. When Anan says she’ll play, it’s when she starts playing by the piano.” “That’s quite the confidence.”

“Yes, but I can’t play anything except modern pieces in front of others.” “I want to hear you play.”

“It’s not merely mechanical, you know.” “Anything’s fine—I want to hear it.” “How cruel to say 'anything's fine'! “I have my own way of playing. “I’ve changed quite a bit about it, though. “But I think I can only manage things like Ravel and Debussy.” “Who taught you?” “I studied under most teachers you’d know, but quit them all out of dislike. “After that, it was just records and books.” “Why didn’t you become a pianist?”

“Oh, I just might become one from now on.” It was Anan who spoke. A woman in love brims with joy when facing her beloved.

“If you’re free, I’ll let you hear it now.”

“Where?” Anan laughed but said nothing, taking a sip from the straw of her cold drink. The dance studio was still silent. There was an hour until opening. Besides, there were no piano lessons this month either. Anan, who had retrieved the piano key from the entrance office, quietly opened the lid of the peeling-painted upright piano. “Reflections in the Water” Luminous yet supple. Like dew rolling away, and arousing a desire to reach out and touch the sound.

“Anan, you’re wonderful.”

Nishina Rokurō approached her from behind after she finished playing. “I think Anan played well, but I’m happy you praised me.” Anan’s cheeks flushed as she tilted her head at an angle. “Anan.”

Nishina Rokurō embraced Anan’s shoulders with both hands. Anan lingered in a daze for a while. But she returned to being Nanbara Sugiko. The dance lesson was about to begin. The two went outside. They made a promise to meet at six and parted. The meeting place was the café at the corner where they had parted. They had mutually refused to always meet in the same place. Nishina Rokurō was wary of prying eyes. For Anan was always receiving new impressions and wanting to give them in return. A fixed place. A fixed time. A fixed day of the week. Because it would mean a clichéd succession of tedium.

Nanbara Sugiko hurried to Kalevala, received her luggage (Horai Kazuko was absent), and returned to the dance studio. There would be a tango contest in five months. She had made a dress with the intention of competing. After storing her luggage and changing her shoes, she began practicing with her partner. She was already Akabane-sensei. She was taking a five-day break from teaching. Three or four groups—those who had come to dance—were practicing on their own in the corner. First, she danced the quickstep two or three times to loosen her legs, then moved on to the exhibition tango. She continued dancing until five-thirty. All the while, there was not a trace of Anan.

“Anan, what on earth are you thinking about?”

Nishina Rokurō finally asked. It was neither out of suspicion nor curiosity, nor was it an attempt to grasp this woman’s true nature. He simply wanted to understand. “Anan is thinking about you.” “Rather than thinking about you… I’m brooding over you.” In truth, what Anan had said was real. Yet Nanbara Sugiko must surely have been observing this version of Anan from afar. Nishina Rokurō thought of Anan and Nanbara Sugiko as an indistinguishable whole.

“Anan, if I were to leave my wife and try to marry you...”

Nishina Rokurō did not have that courage. But for the first time, he posed a question to Anan that was uncharacteristic of him—a means to understand her. Nanbara Sugiko saw through this. But Anan answered.

“I’m happy.”

“Then, Anan, was what you said about never marrying someday a lie?” “I never imagined I’d love you this much.” “Anan has found someone to love in this world for the first time.” “Then what do you think of the woman connected to me—my wife?” “If I met her, she’d grow jealous.” “Anan might come to hate her.” “But right now, I believe your wife is happy.”

“Happy? But I don’t love my wife.” “But your wife must think she’s loved.” “I’ve been fulfilling my duties as a husband, you know.” “I end up deceiving my wife.” “It’s in the unseen parts, you know.” “It can’t be helped.” “Pain.” “But the joy I share with Anan outweighs the pain.” “The happiest one is Anan.”

Anan uttered those words twice. That gave Nishina Rokurō great satisfaction. Anan pressed her cheek firmly against Nishina Rokurō’s.

Anan, why don’t you ask Nishina Rokurō to marry you? I can’t. Nanbara Sugiko. Nanbara Sugiko did not desire to marry Nishina Rokurō.

Nanbara Sugiko. Nanbara Sugiko did not wish to marry Nishina Rokurō. Daily life—expressions of affection turned into habit. It must have been tedious and tiresome. But that wasn’t all. She would have to wear down her own senses. Compromise was the most detestable course of action. Nanbara Sugiko considered many women in the world unfortunate and even mocked them. This applied even to Nishina Rokurō’s wife. Ah—Horai Kazuko. She—what was the state between her and her husband—

Nanbara Sugiko suddenly let out a laugh.

“Anan, there’s something I need to tell you clearly.” “What is it?” “It’s about Horai Kazuko.” “There’s nothing between me and her.” “It was just a single interaction we had a decade ago.” “I was terribly drunk.” “That’s all there was to it.” Anan jolted. But Nanbara Sugiko had already known this. Nanbara Sugiko made Anan nod. “It’s something I didn’t need to say.” “But I wanted to come clean.” Nishina Rokurō found the intimacy between Horai Kazuko and Anan—who was in truth Nanbara Sugiko—eerie and grew uneasy at the thought that Kazuko might have confessed their past. That’s why he went so far as to recount even that infamous incident—the one where he was slapped—in meticulous detail. Nanbara Sugiko thought Nishina Rokurō an amusingly earnest man. And she gazed down slightly at Horai Kazuko. Anan’s eyes sparkled.

“I’m glad you told me everything without hiding anything. Anan’s love won’t change in the slightest.”

“What does Anan think of Ms. Horai?” “I simply think she’s beautiful.” “But being made to lay bare the truth leaves me quite at a loss.” “Since it seemed you shared such closeness with her, that didn’t sit well with me.” “But...” “Anan interprets it thus—we must acknowledge your meeting with her preceded your meeting with Anan. That’s all there is to it.”

When the two parted at the station, rain began to fall. They had spoken for the first time that day about love and all that clings to it. Nanbara Sugiko found this deeply disagreeable. She considered words an inconvenience. She did not believe in words. Nor did she believe in actions. When it came to love or romance, she believed they could not exist without the physical presence of the other person. Anan—to worry and suffer for love isn't foolish at all—no, I was the one who urged Anan to fall in love. Through my creed of believing nothing, I can deny all jealousy, impatience, and anguish. After all, I don't trust myself in the slightest. I—Nanbara Sugiko—might be thoroughly committed to hedonism, nihilism, and individualism—

Nanbara Sugiko began to lecture Anan.

Hee hee—Anan loves Nishina Rokurō. Through and through. And she frets—she’s fretting, you know. Though I see it ending tragically with him—Anan stays steadfast— The Anan part keeps swelling, you see. Anan’s troubles grow heavier, you see. If she fretted harder still, if she pined more desperately—what would become of Nanbara Sugiko— —Quiet. Anan does love Nishina Rokurō. Distinctly. Fiercely. Resoundingly—

Seven

It is exceedingly rare in this world for evaluations to be both fair and precise. In dance competitions in particular, there are severe cliques, and those deemed splendid are eliminated. In Mrs. Akabane’s case—having no base in Osaka and being a dancer unknown to the judges—she still reached the semifinals. She did not win the championship. The judges quarreled considerably among themselves, but her newly devised steps instead provoked resentment. Mrs. Akabane left the competition venue early with her partner, went drinking to vent her frustration, then headed to a cabaret to dance. Fast-tempo jazz was playing. Mrs. Akabane immediately went to the dance floor with her partner. Then they began whirling round and round with French Hot steps. Since she hadn’t used a single pin in her long hair, the loosely curled ends spilled over her shoulders and back. As they danced through several numbers, Mrs. Akabane’s eyes suddenly glittered. A man dancing with a long-gowned dancer, their cheeks pressed together. It was Horai Kazuko’s husband Kensuke. Mrs. Akabane—quite drunk—had been dancing near the stage when she winked at her partner, disentangled her hands, and ascended the spiral staircase leading up to the stage. Still in competition attire—a long blue dress with silver shoes—she wore an artificial rose emblem at her chest marking her semifinalist status. Before the microphone, she began singing “Over the Rainbow” as the performance started. Drunken customers occasionally took the stage to bellow songs in booming voices, but a woman like her was probably doing so for the first time. The band kept playing cheerfully while dancing people focused on Mrs. Akabane’s voice and figure. Had Mrs. Akabane ascended the stage to sing? No—she had been trying to make Horai Kensuke aware of her existence.

After a while, he noticed. And then, exchanging a few words with the dancer, he danced closer to the stage. While smiling coquettishly, she sent a glance toward Horai Kensuke. He was perplexed. Even though he knew it was Nanbara Sugiko, because he perceived the person on stage as a jazz singer, his preconceptions and current impressions became jumbled together, making it difficult to reconcile. When "Over the Rainbow" ended, Akabane Tenjin gave a slight shrug to the bandmaster and descended the spiral staircase. Her partner was laughing. They sat down in chairs and lit cigarettes.

“So it’s Ms. Nanbara after all. I’m surprised.” Horai Kensuke approached Mrs. Akabane, leading a dancer. The partner was startled. The blue fluorescent lamp cast a pallid light on their faces. It was Nanbara Sugiko and Horai Kensuke. “Mama, pour me another one.” A beer bottle spewing white foam. Mrs. Akabane had changed out of her costume and fully become Nanbara Sugiko again. “I put on that act because I wanted to talk to you.”

“But that was pretty impressive.”

Nanbara Sugiko may not be Nanbara Sugiko. She has become a newly coquettish woman. “You’re a beautiful wife with the world’s happiest husband.”

“Who can say?” “You probably don’t even get the urge to cheat.” “I’ll leave that to your imagination.” “So, did today’s woman come to resent you?” “Didn’t you have a prior engagement?” “I dislike promises, you see.” “Oh, I do too.” “By the way, my wife’s jealous of you.” “Oh? Why’s that?” “It’s Roku-chan.”

“Oh, how strange. Even though I’m the one who’s jealous.” “So, which one’s getting in Roku-chan’s way?”

“That would be me. And you as well. But your wife is being cruel to Roku-chan’s feelings, isn’t she?” “Human thoughts are tedious—their actions too.”

“Don’t lie.” “You talk like a complete bystander, but since your wife is so popular, you must actually be worried deep down.” “Beautiful things ought to be quietly tucked away, you know.”

“Hm.” “How many of your wife’s lovers do you actually know about?” “Your wife would never cheat.” “If you were to cheat, I’d be heartbroken.” “I’m quite fond of your wife, you know.” “Are you some sort of deviant?” “Perhaps I am.” “If you cheated, I’d grieve for your wife’s sake.” “But regardless, your wife is terribly popular, isn’t she?” “So does that make me happy?” “Pride incarnate.” “Well, whatever.” “By the way—what if you and I had an affair?”

“Your wife believes you wouldn’t cheat on her.” “After all, she loves you—and she’s confident you love her too.” “Wait now. That makes me feel horribly insulted by my wife.” “Why?” “Not cheating would strip me of my humanity, wouldn’t it?” “While I’d be off cheating without a second thought.” “Ah! See? You’re no mere bystander.” “Your dearest love is your wife, isn’t she?”

“I’ve gotten all mixed up.” “Hey, instead of all that—can I have an affair with you?” “Then by all means, consult your wife.” The two of them burst into raucous laughter.

Nanbara Sugiko found it amusing that she had spouted such nonsense off the top of her head.

On the last train, Nanbara Sugiko returned to her boarding house. She recalled her conversation with Horai Kensuke. He had forced upon her a promise to meet again while claiming to despise promises. She specified meeting three days later at Kalevala.

—Nanbara Sugiko. What on earth are you going to do—

It was Anan’s solemn voice. —Anan, be quiet. I’m begging you, please be quiet—

Meanwhile, when Horai Kensuke returned home, Horai Kazuko was in the middle of her facial beauty treatment. She sat before the mirror, smeared a viscous substance across her face, and intently tensed her skin.

“Hey. I had a rendezvous with your lover.” “Oh really? With O-Sugi? How delightful.” Horai Kazuko slowly pursed her lips, responding without relaxing their tight line. “If I were to have an affair with her, would you mind?” “By all means. But even if you fell for her, she’d never stoop to your level.” Cracks spread across the drying mask beneath her cheeks. She momentarily forgot she was mid-treatment.

“Alright then, let’s make a bet. What should it be?” “Well then, I’ll have a suit made for you.”

She realized she needed to stop her facial beauty treatment midway and turned back to the mirror, hurriedly wiping her face with a hand towel. “Then what do you want?” “A pearl necklace. A choker would be nice.” “Getting to have my affair and scoring a suit—what a deal.” “If you can’t manage to have your affair and end up forfeiting the pearls, you’ll be rather pitiful, won’t you? Oh, but how will you prove it?” “If I have an affair, I’ll just say I did.” “Shall I take your word for it? No—I’ll know just by looking at O-Sugi. Very well.”

Horai Kazuko maintained a perpetually unmade bed. The bedsheet had faded to a dusky hue, and the comforter showed fraying at every edge. Kensuke intensely disliked these habits of hers but no longer voiced any complaints. Filth permeated the house - even the kitchen pot held week-old remnants of some forgotten meal. Marital ennui saturated every corner. Kensuke tidied only his own room. He had installed a bed there. Occasionally Kazuko would visit Kensuke's room. She sometimes appeared to take pity on her husband. Yet he remained oblivious to her compassion. He answered his wife solely through deeds.

That day, they slept separately—he upstairs and she downstairs. Kensuke recalled Nanbara Sugiko’s words. She had said he loved his wife, and that his wife truly loved him too. Kensuke asked himself. As long as my wife remains my wife in society’s eyes—that’s all I need for peace of mind.

And as soon as he tossed over, he was already asleep.

Eight

A full twenty minutes before the appointed time, Nanbara Sugiko appeared at Kalevala. She was waiting for Horai Kensuke. Horai Kazuko had been talking intimately with one of the customers but called out brightly toward Nanbara Sugiko. “O-Sugi. My, my—you look completely different today.”

Nanbara Sugiko had her hair styled in bold curls and applied her makeup with striking clarity. Instead of her usual straight-lined Western clothes, she wore a silk blouse with delicate embroidery at the collar. And a salmon pink skirt with fine pleats. In her hand was a red handbag. Red nail polish peeking out from under white gloves.

“The other day, I was treated by your husband.” “So they say. O-Sugi, you must be busy, but do play along with that little game for a bit, won’t you?”

Nanbara Sugiko sat down near a table facing the river. She did not say it was a meeting with Horai Kensuke. Ordering a cold drink，she gazed at the river. Nishina Rokurō seemed to have lost a lot of weight when I saw him yesterday. He wasn’t speaking much either，and Anan was worried— Anan，was it wrong for me to engage with another man like this today— —That’s right. Anan felt like she was committing a sin—even if it was Nanbara Sugiko who would be consorting from now on，Anan hated it—

Because I'm not in love with Horai Kensuke— No—well, let's go back before he arrives—

Nanbara Sugiko half-rose from her seat. But she lit another cigarette and settled back down. The door opened. Horai Kensuke entered.

“Well now—thank you ever so much for your hospitality the other day.” “Are you alone today?”

Horai Kensuke made a strained expression. In his wife Kazuko’s presence.

“What a coincidence. I’m alone too.”

Nanbara Sugiko smirked.

“Just dropped in for a quick look,” he said．“Hey—water！” He ordered water from the girl．Horai Kazuko laughed．He wondered if the two women were plotting something．Horai Kazuko’s customer left． “Hey—why don’t we three go drinking with your wife？” Before Nanbara Sugiko’s words had fully ended， “I have plans today—O-Sugi—do keep him company for me．”

“Is Horai Kazuko alone today?” Kensuke found himself inwardly fixated on Nanbara Sugiko’s question to him—“Is Horai Kazuko alone today?”

After crossing the tram line, Horai Kensuke and Nanbara Sugiko hailed a car. “Women are really impossible to figure out, aren’t they?”

She laughed loudly. “But you didn’t tell your wife about our meeting, did you?” “How do you know?” “Your wife is the sort who says everything she knows—yet she never mentioned our meeting to me.” “So this becomes a chance encounter then?” “Exactly.” Nanbara Sugiko’s right hand accidentally brushed against Horai Kensuke’s knee. To transform it into an intentional gesture, she pressed her palm firmly against his knee once more.

“Where are you taking me?” “I want you to meet my lovely woman.”

“That’s interesting.”

The car stopped just before the downtown area. The two entered a bar in the alley.

“Hiro-chan, you here?” From inside clattered out a fair-skinned girl with a beautifully defined jawline, her zori sandals clacking rhythmically. The fine komon-patterned silk suited her perfectly. “Oh, Ken-san, what a cruel way to neglect me!” He plopped down onto the corner sofa. Nanbara Sugiko also sat down next to him.

“This Ms. here is a jazz singer.” Nanbara Sugiko smiled warmly at the girl who brought the match flame closer. “Beer, then?” The girl headed toward the counter. There was a single group of customers. Inside the counter, the Madam was doling out gracious smiles. “Hiro-chan, how’s it going?” “It’s nice, isn’t it? You don’t see many like her in Osaka—it’s all listless, wishy-washy women here.” “Sure.” “I’ll observe a bit more before coming up with a nickname.”

With Hiro-chan as their companion, they drank and chattered away. It was no meaningful conversation. Yet their intimacy deepened. "What about the Spot Girl attracts you?" As they walked arm in arm down a slightly desolate street, Nanbara Sugiko asked Horai Kensuke. Spot Girl was the nickname she had just bestowed upon Hiro-chan. A solitary point. Meaning no lines connected to it. Horai Kensuke didn't understand her meaning but praised the ring of her coined Adana.

“The allure… The root of allure is…” “In other words, it’s because she’s a Spot, isn’t it? “She hasn’t been touched by anyone.” “I see. I also find her hard to touch. She’s a good woman.” “She’s a good woman.”

Suddenly, Nanbara Sugiko stopped.

“Hey, I’ve come to like you—it’s not a problem. When I fall for someone, I fall violently.” Nanbara Sugiko felt a sort of pleasure in voicing things she didn’t truly mean.

“You’re not a Spot.”

“Of course not. And I’m not your Spots either.” ――Why did I go so far as to seduce him? Prostitutes who sell themselves for money. The Ashiya women who live solely for physical pleasure―they’ve made their peace with it, and yet... But I am not doing this for money, nor carnal desire, nor of course for love. A different meaning... Certainly, there must be meaning. But I don’t understand what emotional impulse gives that meaning. Horai Kensuke doesn’t love me. He’s simply making me an object of carnal desire―

――Anan is miserable. Anan, who loves Nishina Rokurō, is miserable— Was it impulsive? No—when I left the boarding house, I told them I had business tonight and wouldn’t be back— Even though Anan tried so hard to stop her, Nanbara Sugiko is awful— No—it was Anan who drove Nanbara Sugiko to this outcome. Because I love Nishina Rokurō, I’ve paradoxically compelled my ties with Horai Kensuke. Why….

No—Horai Kazuko. Am I not making any moves toward her? That is the greatest factor. I want to peel off the mask of so-called truth she shows me. I want to be openly subjected to her jealousy and hatred—

“Hey, you—are you planning to tell your wife?” “Can’t I tell her?”

“Either way is fine.” The two laughed. After laughing, Horai Kensuke felt an unpleasant shudder run down his spine. She’s an uncanny woman. She’s an uncanny woman, he thought. “What if I were the one to tell her?” “Roku-chan will scold you.” “What are you talking about, ‘your wife’?” “Are you saying you’d tell him that O-Sugi and your husband had an affair?” “What on earth is going on between you and Roku-chan?” “Asking ‘how’ is a foolish question.” To call it a foolish question was no answer at all. It was indeed an ambiguous phrase, but to be told “That’s a foolish question” ended up conflating two meanings into one. It was the workings of the subconscious. Nanbara Sugiko would often utter the phrase “That’s a foolish question.”

“So, you saying you liked me was a lie?”

“Because I like you, that’s the truth.” “So you’re saying you like two people at once?”

“Three.” “Your wife as well.” “But that means you’ve betrayed someone.” “So—Roku-chan, my wife, or me?” “Isn’t this an act of betrayal?” “Betrayal—why must you keep saying ‘betrayal’?” “You’re being absurd. “Suppose you and Roku-chan were madly in love. “If he then got involved with someone else—say, my wife—wouldn’t that be betrayal? Wouldn’t you feel jealous?” “Oh, it’s not betrayal, and I wouldn’t feel jealous. “In such a hypothetical case— “Jealousy only arises when the bedrock of mutual affection begins to crumble. “Actions like that— “Third-party entanglements can never form a stable foundation for true love.”

“Then doesn’t that mean—out of the three of us: me, Roku-chan, and my wife—only one person actually has your affection?” “You’ve mistaken my analogy for my reality. In my current situation, I don’t acknowledge any emotional connection with any of the three. Even if I like them, the other person doesn’t truly love me. You’re such a strange person—you don’t consider your fondness for Spot a betrayal of your wife, and you feel no contradiction in your heart about what’s happened between us. Is it because you have a genuine emotional bond with your wife? Or is it that, like me, you don’t acknowledge receiving affection from anyone? It must be one or the other.” She paused infinitesimally before delivering the verdict. “One hundred percent the former.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.” “I know exactly what you don’t understand. That I have affection for three people?” “There’s no rule forbidding affection beyond one person.” “Moreover, I can see through your heart completely.” “Even with multiple women besides your wife, you treat them as mere physical indulgences—Spot remains out of reach for now, but you’ll inevitably do the same with her before growing bored. I know this perfectly well.”

“Whatever. Let’s stop this logical wrangling.”

Horai Kensuke had no choice but to remain silent. “Humans try to cut through what can’t be cut.” “How strange.”

Nanbara Sugiko, too, no longer wanted to argue logic. She was startled to realize Anan had begun writhing incessantly within her. Anan—I’m looking forward to the grand event lying ahead in the future. Everything until reaching that point is just what I acknowledge as means to an end—

“Hey, does me liking you cause you any trouble?” “Not really. I like you too, you know.” “Then that’s fine, isn’t it?” “What?” “Well then, will you meet me often?” “That’s exactly what I was hoping for.”

“Then that’s even better.”

“But you’ll be in a bind—you have to meet Roku-chan too.”

“You’re no different—with Spot and that dancer from before. Oh, here we go again with the same old song and dance. As long as we don’t interfere with each other.” The two exchanged their company phone numbers and parted ways. It was ten o’clock in the morning.

After they parted ways, Horai Kensuke felt a truly strange sensation.

Nanbara Sugiko. What on earth was she? There is a certain allure to things one cannot understand. And until one understands, there is also unease. After all, a night’s pleasure was still a pleasure. He headed to the company.

Nanbara Sugiko kept her clothes as they were and headed to the company with only her hairstyle done up in her usual manner. In the evening, when released from work, she hurriedly headed to the broadcasting company. She wanted to see Nishina Rokurō. It was to confirm her love for him. At the reception desk, she asked for him by name. Two days off. Yesterday and today. She headed to the dance studio. She felt his illness—most likely sick leave—was serious. While teaching dance, she felt terribly irritated. She left early and headed to the boarding house.

Nanbara Sugiko climbed up to the second floor, and the moment she thought she had entered a world where she was utterly alone, she threw herself onto the piled-up futon and suddenly burst into tears.

Anan, I'm sorry. Anan, please forgive me. But ending up like that was something Anan made happen. It was the existence of Anan's passionately loved Nishina Rokurō that made it happen—

Was it Nanbara Sugiko who shed the tears? No—it was Anan who shed the tears.

Poor Anan. Why did I end up like that with Horai Kensuke? Anan accuses; Anan grieves. Anan lives solely for Nishina Rokurō. The body of Nanbara Sugiko that harbors Anan. That is of course a temporary thing. But once Anan has taken residence, I don’t want her to be touched by any man other than Nishina Rokurō—

Anan shook Nanbara Sugiko’s body. Violently. Nanbara Sugiko tried to resist Anan.

Anan, let me stay liberated a little longer—I won't taint your purity. I don't love Horai Kensuke— I won't forgive you. I can't forgive you—

She continued crying.

Horai Kensuke appeared before Horai Kazuko, still burdened with something inexplicable. As usual, it was a place that could hardly be called a home, filled with filthy, stagnant air.

“Did you enjoy yourself yesterday?” “How about it? Did your wishes come true?” “Judging by where you stayed over, I suppose I ended up buying a suit.”

She had not slept at all the previous night. “Nah, incomplete. Last night, I met a friend—from my army days.” “That’s such a shame.” Horai Kensuke had resolved in his heart that the moment he saw his wife, he must not speak of the affair he had. He ate his late dinner in sullen silence. Horai Kazuko was exceptionally cheerful. It was because she had believed her husband’s words. “Let’s not set a deadline for our wager—we’ll make it a month.”

Horai Kensuke remained silent. That night, Horai Kazuko appeared in his room on the second floor. Terribly gently.

Nine

“I seem to be with child.”

Nishina Takako was sitting by her husband Rokurō’s bedside. It was the fourth day of his absence. Having contracted influenza, Nishina Rokurō had suffered with a severe high fever. Takako devotedly nursed him. The fever was subsiding. But he still couldn’t sit up. Dozing in and out of sleep, he had been startled by her voice. He had been conscious of nothing but Anan.

“That’s good to hear. “Take care of yourself.”

Nishina Rokurō said abruptly after a moment. He had wanted a child. But recently, he had lost interest in the matter. "I want you to get well soon." Takako interpreted his influenza as proof his body had always been frail. She never doubted her husband. The distance between them as husband and wife had imperceptibly grown. "What time is it now?"

“It’s past two.”

Nishina Rokurō closed his eyes again.

“You were talking nonsense in your sleep, you know.” “What?” “I couldn’t quite make it out, but it must have been about your work. I called the company this morning.”

“I see.” In the depths of Nishina Rokurō’s eyes, Anan floated. In his dream, he had been listening to Debussy—Anan was playing the piano. Behind her, he stood. Suddenly, she stopped her hands from playing. Yet the piano kept sounding. “Strange, isn’t it?” she laughed. Then she tried to flee from beside the piano. He tried to chase her. Suddenly, she covered her face with both hands and began to cry. When he drew near, she said, “Don’t torment me.”—

Nishina Rokurō felt uneasy at having seen Anan crying in his dream, though he had never actually witnessed her tears in reality.

“Hey, which do you think it’ll be?” “A boy or a girl?” “Which would you prefer?” “I want a girl.” “Why?” “Because I’m glad I was born a woman.” Nishina Rokurō opened his eyes fully and looked at Takako’s face.

“See? I look happy, don’t I?” Nishina Rokurō could not take those words at face value. “I feel sorry for you. My job keeps me busy, I come home late, I drink, and my salary is low, you know.” He averted his gaze from Takako’s face. “Oh, stop. I’m fine—it’s you I’m worried about.” Nishina Rokurō pinched Takako’s hand with a childishly dependent urge.

“I’m hungry—make me something to eat.”

After Takako went to the kitchen, Nishina Rokurō began thinking about Anan again. Had even a minute passed? He clasped his hands together, startled by what he had discovered within himself. Forgive me—I'm saying this to Anan. Though I don't love Takako, we're living as husband and wife. That's what I feel guilty about toward Anan. I don't think to ask Takako for forgiveness—— Nanbara Sugiko put down the telephone receiver. Nishina Rokurō was still resting. She sat down in the chair before her company desk and, smoking a cigarette, tried to veil Anan—who had surfaced on her exterior—with smoke. At that moment, another desk phone rang.

“Ms. Nanbara, you have a telephone call.” She approached the telephone with a scrap of paper and a pencil.

“Hello, this is Nanbara.”

“Hello, this is Horai Kensuke.” “Oh, it’s you.” “Why don’t you call me?” “You didn’t call me either. I was waiting for you.” “Is there any room in your life today for me to squeeze in?”

“There is. Wide open.” “Six o’clock.” “At Kalevala.” “No good. In Umeda—you know, that new building’s basement.”

“Understood.”

Nanbara Sugiko hung up the receiver with a clatter. Anan let out a heartrending cry. “It’s strange, isn’t it? I’m starting to feel like the view of women I’ve held until now is about to be overturned.” Horai Kensuke had become unable to keep Nanbara Sugiko as merely a two-hour affair. As before, he would decide to end it after two hours and then prepare himself with a detached heart to face the next new woman. And if he happened to meet a woman he had parted with again, he could feel refreshed when they met. However, after a night with Nanbara Sugiko, he could no longer dispose of her as easily as he had other women.

“Why did you have me meet that spot girl?”

Nanbara Sugiko, who had been laughing for a while, suddenly changed the subject.

“There’s no deep meaning to it.” “Well then, I’ll just forget about the spot girl.” “It’s gotten rather too complicated.” “What has?”

Nanbara Sugiko did not answer. She thought it was enough for Horai Kensuke to simply remain Horai Kazuko’s husband. “By the way, is there any hope of making what’s between you and me last?” “Lasting? But you don’t deeply love me, do you?” “Do you think you offered your body to someone who isn’t even loved?” “That’s right. But I don’t regret it because I like you. Though I don’t know how long it can last.”

“Don’t you want me to say I wish to be loved by you?” “I don’t say it, but I do think it. It’s only natural I can’t say it.” “I might love you, you know—might even duel Roku-chan over it.” “Cut it out.”

Nanbara Sugiko deliberately retorted coldly. She had thought that responding to a joke with another joke would be too trite. Moreover, Nanbara Sugiko felt a pang of sorrow that Nishina Rokurō’s name had been brought into this atmosphere. The part that was Anan had already expanded greatly. Horai Kensuke was surprised when he saw Nanbara Sugiko’s expression. —She might actually be genuine. If I’m not careful, instead of me forcing my wife into maintaining her position as Mrs. Horai, I might end up being forced by my wife into upholding my position as Mr. Horai. Nanbara Sugiko was pure egoism in her actions and—

“Then, the contest is my loss, right?” Horai Kensuke had meant the contest between himself and Nanbara Sugiko. However, Nanbara Sugiko took it as the contest between Nishina Rokurō and Horai Kensuke. That’s why she laughed amusedly at his words declaring it his loss. Horai Kensuke thought it was an eerie laugh.

He did not stay over that day.

Nanbara Sugiko smoked one cigarette after another on the second floor of her boarding house.

I felt resistance—Anan made me feel resistance—and within that ecstasy, Nishina Rokurō had been undeniably present. He had worn such a terribly serious expression. That was a joyful discovery for me— What are you saying—it’s like you’re bullying Anan. Anan wants to meet Nishina Rokurō soon. When we meet, Anan will confess about Horai Kensuke and Nanbara Sugiko— —That’s no good. That’s no good. But until I meet Nishina Rokurō, I won’t see Horai Kensuke—

—Nanbara Sugiko. You’re such an ignorant woman—

—Anan, I might be an ignorant woman— Horai Kazuko—who had begun waiting specifically for Kensuke’s return—was pounding the piano and singing loudly. Nanbara Sugiko and Nishina Rokurō no longer appeared at Kalevala. She—who could never bear not being at the center of attention—grew anxious about both her husband’s conduct and those two’s continued silence. She began panicking to such an absurd degree that even she found it ridiculous. She was being boycotted by three people. Within her heart, hatred toward Nanbara Sugiko already existed.

Horai Kensuke returned home on the last train. He remained silent. From Horai Kazuko’s side, she hesitated to mention Nanbara Sugiko. While amiably assisting her husband with his change of clothes, inside her raged a fierce commotion. Horai Kazuko, for the first time, experienced the emotions of a chaste wife.

10

Nishina Rokurō returned to work on Wednesday after a week’s absence. He called Anan from a café, and Anan, holding the prepared script, immediately headed to that café. Anan had intended to tell Nishina Rokurō about Nanbara Sugiko. But the moment she saw his face, she became tongue-tied. What they discussed was nothing more than the joy of having met. And at seven o'clock that evening, the two met again. They were silent. The embrace buried all awkwardness. Anan had completely forgotten about Nanbara Sugiko and then Horai Kensuke. So, while clinging to Nishina Rokurō’s chest, she felt no self-reproach. Anan was intoxicated. Nishina Rokurō, too, had forgotten that he had a wife. The guilt he had felt toward Anan was now merely a truth of the past.

Anan began to come alive in a way that made her seem almost unrecognizable. Nishina Rokurō, too, after recovering his health and becoming clearly aware of his exchange of love with Anan, began to lead a daily life filled with joy. He no longer felt any distress in his married life with his wife Takako. While constantly picturing Anan, he had come to feel no resistance to facing Takako. Nanbara Sugiko also met with Horai Kensuke from time to time. And while sharing nights of pleasure together, at those times, she managed to erase Anan. In other words, it was through her relationship with Horai Kensuke that Nanbara Sugiko—as Anan—could believe her love with Nishina Rokurō to be absolute.

Horai Kensuke acknowledged his love for Nanbara Sugiko. Yet even as he acknowledged it, he kept the Horai family in mind. At times, unlike hostesses or dancers, he found Nanbara Sugiko possessed engaging conversational skills, a freshness his wife Kazuko lacked, and youthfulness—traits that made him mutter inwardly about having met an exceptional woman. His love existed purely within carnal desire. He saw no need to dissect Nanbara Sugiko through analysis. Though an unsettling woman, she drew him in. He would tire of her eventually. That was all there was to it.

Horai Kazuko was the sole one impatiently enduring the daily life in which three people were immersed in human-like joy. Husband, O-Sugi, Roku-chan. It was because they had all distanced themselves from her.

One day, Horai Kazuko went to the broadcasting company. She summoned Nishina Rokurō.

“Why did you stop coming?” “I was laid up sick.” “And I’ve been swamped besides.”

“O-Sugi isn’t coming either. Why isn’t O-Sugi coming?” “It’s not like I’d know just because you ask me.” “You’re meeting with O-Sugi, aren’t you?” “Yeah.” She thought she had asked a foolish question. And now clearly feeling herself treated as a nuisance, she began raging terribly. “I’m not trying to criticize you and O-Sugi or anything, you know—it’s just that I really do like her. I want O-Sugi to come. I want to see O-Sugi.”

“Then tell her yourself.” “Yes, I certainly will.” Horai Kazuko opened her handbag, slapped the bills and slips onto the counter together, then left the café without even greeting Nishina Rokurō. She had no time to consider what was causing her excitement. And immediately, she headed to Nanbara Sugiko’s office. However, when she reached the front of the office and felt that visiting Nanbara Sugiko would be an extremely humiliating act, she quickly returned to Kalevala.

Rather than be insulted by O-Sugi, it would be better to submit to my husband.

She resolved to ask Kensuke about Nanbara Sugiko tonight.

However, when she opened the door to Kalevala, a cheerful voice came from inside.

“I’m sorry for not being in touch.”

It was Nanbara Sugiko. "Oh my, it's been so long! What have you been up to?" Her words carried their usual ring of truthfulness, but her expression now betrayed unconcealable hostility. "Things have been so hectic, and... It's been over two weeks, hasn't it? I'm sorry." "I was worried."

Horai Kazuko worried that Nanbara Sugiko might see through her agitation. And, forcing herself to be cheerful, “My husband, you see. It seems he’s been smitten by you too.” “Oh, you must be joking! There was a time when your husband went on and on about you.” Nanbara Sugiko knew that Horai Kensuke was hiding things from his wife. Horai Kazuko felt she was being teased by someone younger and grew angry.

“I stopped by Roku-chan’s place earlier.” “Roku-chan loves you very much.” “I could tell right away.” “You’re popular with my husband too—you’re something else, aren’t you?”

Nanbara Sugiko found it amusing that Horai Kazuko kept observing her so intently. “So,” Kazuko pressed, “what do you make of my husband?” “He’s a good man. A fine husband indeed. What a wonderful couple you make.” “You think so? I’ve always thought Roku-chan and his wife were such a wonderful couple.” Kazuko’s pearl necklace clicked as she leaned forward. “Why, he’s utterly devoted to her.”

Nanbara Sugiko was all smiles. “Aren’t you jealous?” Nanbara Sugiko laughed without answering. She did not know Nishina Rokurō’s wife. She did not even try to learn about her. She did not take issue with his wife. Anan thought that since meeting his wife would make her jealous, it was better not to know her to suffer less. “But you really are such a wonderful person.” “What draws one to you is your sensibility.”

At that moment, Nanbara Sugiko abruptly thought of something mischievous. “I’d like to meet with you and your husband sometime.”

To this, Horai Kazuko was in full agreement. The date had yet to be decided, but she vowed it would happen soon. Horai Kazuko sensed that her husband’s affair had not been consummated. And she truly became cheerful.

That night, Nishina Rokurō and Anan began chatting more than usual while drinking whiskey. “Anan thinks intuition is crucial when playing the piano.” “Intuition isn’t the same as instinct—it’s something you can’t feel without a certain degree of understanding.” “Anan has relied too much on her senses until now.” “Anan has confidence in her senses.” “But Anan came to realize that relying solely on her senses to judge things was dangerous.” “If Anan were still her old self—processing everything through her senses—this love of ours would never last.” “Anan could intuitively understand you, and that’s why she attained happiness.” “Occasionally, Anan does find that lonely.” “But Anan... knowing you and being able to be here with you like this...” “Anan can’t put it into words—Anan will try composing it instead.”

“Anan, thank you. I’m happy.” Nishina Rokurō said forcefully before Anan had finished speaking. “Anan, I’m the one who’s happy.” “The world we share might be something only we can comprehend.” “A world that exists solely between us.” “Let’s both treasure this world of ours.” Anan nodded deeply. She was about to present a question to Nishina Rokurō. But sensing Nanbara Sugiko’s influence at work, she left it unspoken. The question was whether that world could exist separate from physical bodies. If they severed their carnal connection now—would their shared world remain steadfast? That was the question.

In her boarding house's second-floor room, Nanbara Sugiko kept vigil through the night. Anan’s love could exist without being mediated by Nanbara Sugiko’s physical body. But she didn’t want to voice such a notion. Anan was far too miserable—

Because I want to hear Nishina Rokurō’s response— —Please stop. No matter which way he answers, Anan would be pitiable— Anan implored. —Please end your relationship with Horai Kensuke. What she had gained from her relationship with him was significant. In other words, the world of Anan and Nishina Rokurō was absolute. She had obtained confirmation. Since that had become clear, there was no longer any need for Horai Kensuke—

Anan—but Anan only became interested in Horai Kensuke because Horai Kazuko existed. Her truth, her allure. The source of her confidence—she still didn’t understand all of it. Of course, there was no doubt that confirming the love between Anan and Nishina Rokurō had been a far greater discovery than such things— —Anan was pitiable. The fact that there were times when Anan had to be erased—and moreover, it wasn’t during work hours— It was a time for indulgence—

Nanbara Sugiko could no longer refuse Anan’s proposal. Nanbara Sugiko was stunned. Anan had become her entire being. And Anan’s entire being was Nishina Rokurō. The Horai couple simply did not exist.

That night, the very same night, the Horai Kensuke couple were talking. “You and O-Sugi are nothing, right? Well then, you must buy me pearls. But there’s still a week left within the one-month deadline. Oh right—O-Sugi said we should all drink together once. The three of us. Next Saturday, let’s throw a grand party. Let’s take over Café Kalevala and start around seven. Oh, and we should invite Roku-chan and his wife too.” Horai Kazuko was getting carried away. She was, after all, Horai Kensuke’s wife. Horai Kensuke had ended up deceiving his wife.

I can’t very well say now that I had an affair. I have to buy her pearls. But it’s a small price. She seems to have become mine alone now. She’s a surprisingly good wife. Well—but will Saturday turn into something dreadful? “Hey darling, I’ll buy you a new suit—how awful you couldn’t have your little affair.” In truth, Horai Kazuko tidied the room and prepared a feast that night while waiting for her husband’s return. Feeling secure and trusting, she clearly realized she loved her husband and rejoiced in it.

“Hey, I’ve decided to quit Kalevala.” “And after taking a short rest, I’ll take on more students and teach at home.” “It’s just the right season for it now.” Horai Kensuke gave a wry smile. He found his wife Kazuko unprecedentedly endearing. But he did not particularly think to plan an affair. “Hey, come here.”

He called out to Horai Kazuko as he went up to the second floor.

Forgive me, darling. I've had plenty of affairs up until now, but I never loved any of them—it was just the joy of knowing my young, beautiful self.— Horai Kazuko murmured in her heart as she pressed her husband Kensuke's suit.

Eleven

Horai Kensuke thought it necessary to meet Nanbara Sugiko before Saturday night. And he made a phone call. Nanbara Sugiko was absent. Again he called. Again she was absent. He requested she return his call. But no connection was made. Again he called. He now felt their relationship had reached its end.

A few days had passed. Horai Kazuko went out of her way to notify Nanbara Sugiko at her company about the invitation. Nanbara Sugiko reluctantly smiled at the cheerfully persistent Horai Kazuko. “My husband’s been moping since you dumped him. I feel so sorry for the poor thing that I’ve decided to give him some special attention from now on.” “I’ve made up my mind to sell the shop.” “I want to study vocal music properly, you see.” “But even if I close the shop, I still want to keep seeing you.” “You’ll accept my feelings, won’t you?” “With you, I’m being completely honest.” “So I’m planning to invite you this Saturday.”

Nanbara Sugiko harbored neither resistance nor doubt toward those expressions and words that bore Kazuko’s characteristic semblance of sincerity. Moreover, though she had wished to be drenched in words of loathing from Horai Kazuko, she felt no disappointment whatsoever when this expectation went unmet.

Horai Kazuko had undergone a psychological change after all. It must be the result of my appearance—the result of the relationship between Nanbara Sugiko and Horai Kensuke. I have completely lost interest in this couple now. No—rather, it’s because Anan has completely overshadowed Nanbara Sugiko—

Horai Kazuko announced that she would also invite Nishina Rokurō. However, she did not mention inviting Mrs. Nishina. “Please be sure to tell Roku-chan from your side—seven o’clock at Kalevala, all right?” Horai Kazuko still held only hatred toward Nanbara Sugiko within herself. And on Saturday, she imagined Nanbara Sugiko’s flustered figure. Horai Kazuko had recognized the romance between Nanbara Sugiko and Nishina Rokurō, which was why she had wanted to demonstrate to Nanbara Sugiko that the marital bond was surprisingly resilient and unyielding. She had been envisioning a jealous Nanbara Sugiko upon seeing the Nishina couple.

Anan, who had met Nishina Rokurō, talked about the Saturday invitation. "I detest being with you where others might see us." "But though I don't want to go, I must." "Anan must wear a mask—how cruel that Anan must bury Anan throughout that time."

“I don’t want to go either.” “But we must go. To make what’s between us last, we have to avoid exposing our true selves in front of others.” “Anyway, let’s go.” “Anan, you don’t know Mr. Horai, do you?” “He’s a good person.” In an instant, Nanbara Sugiko surfaced.

“I’ve had the chance to meet him once or twice at Kalevala.” It was a subdued voice. Anan wanted to say something. A confession. But Nanbara Sugiko desperately held it back.

Horai Kensuke realized Saturday was finally drawing near—tomorrow. But he no longer worried. What could Nanbara Sugiko possibly say? After all, it was before Nishina Rokurō. Still, the phone’s silence grated on him. Oh well—an end would come eventually.

Saturday came. Nishina Takako received a special delivery letter from the mailbox. This was after Nishina Rokurō had left for work.

“I apologize for intruding upon you so suddenly the other day. Now, I humbly wish to extend an invitation for seven o’clock this coming Saturday evening and earnestly hope you will honor us with your presence. Though this gathering was arranged rather hastily and I realize you may have prior engagements, I sincerely entreat you to attend. I shall extend the invitation to your esteemed husband by telephone.” A map of Kalevala had been enclosed. Takako felt suspicious. This letter had been written yesterday evening. The postmark showed six o’clock. If that were the case, she thought, simply calling her husband Rokurō to invite them both would have sufficed. She considered phoning her husband to inquire. Yet she sensed something dubious lurking behind both her husband and Horai Kazuko. Having asked a younger sister from the neighborhood to watch the house, she resolved to abruptly visit Kalevala herself. She knew only that Horai Kazuko was a wealthy vocalist’s wife residing in Ashiya. This was why she had only just learned of this coffee shop’s existence with its peculiar name—Kalevala. Doubts swirled within her. Still, she believed accepting the invitation would make everything immediately comprehensible. That afternoon, Nishina Takako—who had hurried to the beauty parlor for a hairstyling, retrieved an unlined crepe kimono from her chest of drawers, and adjusted her underrobe’s collar—found herself fully immersed in the spirit of going out.

Kalevala had put up a "Closed Today" sign. Horai Kazuko wore a black chiffon velvet dress and had on the pearl necklace her husband had bought her the day before. She had a girl help prepare canapés and ordered alcohol along with other dishes. She had them move the piano from the back room and rearranged the furniture so it no longer resembled a typical café. She filled a vase to overflowing with crimson roses. These were ones Nanbara Sugiko had sent from the florist that morning. Horai Kazuko considered today's gathering something extremely intriguing. She thought she would be at its center. She remained convinced guests would surely gather. With all preparations complete, she sat at the piano, tentatively playing and singing as she began feeling entranced within the decorated room. She recalled her earlier glimpse in the mirror.

—I look as refined as Mrs. Simpson—

Nanbara Sugiko was adjusting her golden-brown taffeta dress on the second floor of her boarding house. Her hairstyle was pulled back tightly into a rounded updo at the back, lending her usual style a slightly chic flair. She fastened large semicircular mabe pearl earrings and bracelet in matching golden brown hues. Angling the mirror diagonally, she inspected her figure. The waist felt too constricting. Freyja's skirt swayed gently as its finely striped base pattern caught the light. Over this she draped a white woolen lace-knit cape before descending the stairs with gold shoes and handbag in hand. The clock had long since passed six-thirty - taking a taxi now would likely make her forty minutes late. She emerged onto the broad avenue. After waiting approximately five minutes, an empty cab pulled up beside her. Once inside the taxi, she opened her handbag and dabbed behind her ears the perfume she'd forgotten to apply earlier. This scent alone belonged to Anan. Anan's fragrance. She cradled the small bottle between both palms - a faint aroma that would soon dissipate. She always wore this perfume before meeting Nishina Rokurō; it vanished when they parted ways. She knew from French novels how often such scents heralded tragedy.

Anan—today, Anan—stay still. Instead, Nanbara Sugiko’s body had truly become entirely Anan’s. Today I would bid farewell to Horai Kensuke in silence. Even if I were added to his collection of women, I wouldn’t feel insulted. That would be easier— Anan was truly sad today. But you’re enduring it quietly. For Nishina Rokurō’s sake— —Poor Anan—

She shed a tear. The car approached the downtown area.

12

The first guest to appear at Kalevala was Nishina Takako.

“Oh, you’ve come! Thank you.” “I’m delighted!” “Please sit down. Oh my, what a lovely dress!” “Maroon—it suits you perfectly.”

Nishina Takako was flustered. “Has my husband arrived yet?” “Oh, he’ll be here any minute now. Come along.” At that moment, Horai Kensuke and Nishina Rokurō entered together. The friendship between male comrades was indeed a fine thing. On the road, Horai Kensuke—who had encountered Nishina Rokurō—spoke of today’s expectations as they walked. “That wife of mine invited your missus too.” Nishina Rokurō momentarily flinched. “Honestly, my wife remains as childish as ever.”

Nishina Rokurō mentally thanked Horai Kensuke. He hoped it would end without incident.

―Anan is pitiful. I must be kind to Takako―

“Well, let’s drink heartily! My wife’s feast is something to be grateful for.” Horai Kensuke could well infer Nishina Rokurō’s feelings. He was worldly-wise. And he was a coward. He did not welcome incidents. Therefore, he had shown kindness to Nishina Rokurō. Nishina Rokurō looked cheerfully at his wife Takako. He was relieved that Anan had not yet arrived. “You’re being mischievous, aren’t you?” “Ms. Horai, you should have invited them together.”

Nishina Rokurō sat down beside Takako. Horai Kazuko immediately noticed that her husband had spoken.

“I plotted this to startle you.” “Forgive me.” Horai Kensuke declared loudly while examining the name cards fastened to rose branches.

“Hasn’t the woman who dumped me arrived yet?” “O-Sugi should be coming. She’s probably arriving late on purpose.” Horai Kazuko answered while opening the beer bottle.

“Who is O-Sugi?” Nishina Takako whispered to her husband in a small voice.

“Oh, you didn’t know? Ms. Nanbara Sugiko is such a lovely, beautiful person. You’ll surely come to like her.”

Horai Kazuko, overhearing Takako’s question, responded cheerfully. “She works in broadcasting.” Nishina Rokurō told Takako. —My husband isn’t interested in that person at all, and he doesn’t hold any particular affection for Horai Kazuko either. She’s beautiful but older, and they seem like such a harmonious couple— Takako smiled toward her husband Rokurō. The four raised their beer glasses in toast.

“Hey, you know, I’m truly delighted by this kind of invitation.” “Well then, let’s do this often from now on. Next time, I’ll invite you to my place.”

Horai Kazuko interjected once again. “Ms. Nanbara, what are you doing? The champagne won’t open!” Horai Kensuke deliberately said loudly once more. However, he thought it would be better if Nanbara Sugiko didn’t come. Given who she was, she’d probably remain unfazed even if appearing before two married couples. From my very first encounter with her, it had been full of theatrics after all. But with just the four of us already entangled in complicated relationships, if she—with an even messier connection—were to appear here... It wouldn’t be very favorable—

He had come to think that he should completely sever his relationship with Nanbara Sugiko. However, he did not intend to end the affair. He thought that having a relationship with a woman his wife knew was too dangerous.

Horai Kazuko kept talking animatedly to prevent the atmosphere from becoming strained, but in truth, her words were all designed to draw attention to herself. “Shall I tell you the story behind these pearls?”

She whispered to Nishina Takako. “Takako-san, my wife is an awful wife. “She said she’d buy me a suit if she had an affair, but since she couldn’t manage it, I was forced to buy pearls instead. “The partner in question would be Ms. Nanbara, who should be arriving any moment now. “She couldn’t carry out the affair. “I got stuck buying pearls. “Utterly miserable.”

Horai Kensuke said while laughing. Takako thought the couple before her eyes was strange. Nishina Rokurō was extremely displeased. But he thought he had to feign cheerfulness. “Takako. What would you do if I had an affair?” “Oh no, please don’t say such things.” “Takako-san, there’s no need for concern. Roku-chan is absolutely fine. I’ll give you my personal guarantee.” Takako laughed innocently. Horai Kazuko smiled composedly. She wanted to be trusted by everyone and bowed to by everyone.

There's no need for concern. I won't reveal anything— She glanced briefly toward Nishina Rokurō. A profound sense of superiority filled her. Outside came the sound of a car stopping. Instantly, an eerie atmosphere surged among the four. Anan—forgive me. Endure this— What face will O-Sugi make today? She won't dare look me in the eye now—

—Nanbara Sugiko has finally arrived. It should somehow work out. But I’m jittery—

What kind of person was she? She seemed beautiful... someone my husband had kept hidden from me until now. She must have been someone my husband had no interest in—

The door opened.

“I’ve been waiting.” “You’re late.” “Mr. Nishina’s wife is here too.”

It was Horai Kensuke. He approached the entrance faster than anyone else, almost the moment the door opened. Horai Kazuko's gaze. The woman in a kimono looked this way as if leaning forward. Nishina Rokurō kept his face lowered. The instant Nanbara Sugiko stepped from the car—as though burying Anan—she felt a violent pounding in her chest. Horai Kensuke turned his back to the interior and shielded Nanbara Sugiko for just a brief moment. This was his affection.

“Come on, hurry up. We’re starting.”

Nanbara Sugiko gave Horai Kensuke a glance that first conveyed understanding without words, and entered the back with proper posture. Until then, Horai Kazuko—who had forgotten her usual loquacity—stood up and, “O-Sugi. Why were you late? Come now—Roku-chan’s wife is here.” Horai Kazuko interpreted her husband’s favorable behavior toward Nanbara Sugiko as something meaningful. And unconsciously gripped the pearl necklace. “I am Nanbara.”

Nishina Takako stood up and bowed politely. Nanbara Sugiko did not look at Nishina Takako. And she did not look at Nishina Rokurō beside her either. “Ms. Nanbara, here you go.” Horai Kensuke boldly uncorked the champagne and first handed the cut glass to her. She took it in hand and sat down in the vacant chair. It was the central sofa that received the direct gazes of all four. Nanbara Sugiko’s hands were trembling slightly. Horai Kensuke poured champagne to the brim, and even after finishing, he remained in that stance for a while, waiting for Nanbara Sugiko to settle down.

“Hey, put on a record.” Horai Kazuko praised Nanbara Sugiko’s attire as she approached the phonograph. “Jazz would be nice, wouldn’t it?” “Put on *‘Someday Somewhere’*.” “Oh, does that bring back memories?” At that moment, Nanbara Sugiko became distinctly herself again. “There was one—a memory with your husband. When I was singing at the hall, I met him.” Nishina Rokurō looked at Nanbara Sugiko with startled eyes. “As for me—I went dancing with a partner and got so drunk I ended up on stage.”

*“Someday Somewhere”* began to play. “Ms., won’t you dance with me?” “No, thank you. I’ll dance with Mrs. Nishina.”

Nanbara Sugiko flashed a sharp smile toward Horai Kensuke. “O-Sugi, I’m so glad you’ll dance with me.” Nanbara Sugiko embraced Horai Kazuko. And now she felt nothing toward her body. “Ms. Takako, isn’t it amusing? Those two—won’t you dance too?” “I truly don’t know anything about that.” Horai Kazuko stiffened mid-dance. Nanbara Sugiko and herself. She felt her confidence crumbling away.

“You must be tired. Let’s stop here.” Nanbara Sugiko guided Horai Kazuko to sit down in a chair with affected concern. The five of them began dissolving their tensions as they drank sake and indulged in the feast. Yet at this very moment, such dissolving of tensions proved profoundly dangerous. Nanbara Sugiko drank voraciously. But she remained acutely aware of being Nanbara Sugiko. Nishina Takako grew drunk on this unfamiliar atmosphere. And came to believe Nishina Rokurō was the finest husband in all the world. Horai Kensuke felt relieved things seemed headed for an uneventful conclusion. He considered asking Nanbara Sugiko to resume their affair. Such was her radiance. Horai Kazuko began simmering with irritation. And incessantly toyed with her pearl necklace.

If one truly had an affair, one couldn’t possibly say they’d had one. I wonder if something happened between my husband and O-Sugi. But she should love Nishina Rokurō. No—rather, is she pretending to love him to hide something with my husband— Horai Kazuko looked back and forth between Nishina Rokurō and her husband Kensuke. Horai Kensuke was more impressive. She was torn between joy and anxiety.

“Roku-chan.” “You’re being awfully quiet, aren’t you?” “There’s no harm in boasting about your wife here.”

Nishina Takako looked down, seemingly embarrassed yet with a hint of delight. She was a good woman. “You there—do you actually think boasting about your love counts as proper behavior in public?”

Horai Kensuke said with a laugh.

“Darling. But when I see a young married couple like that, I can’t help feeling envious.” “Oh, come now! Mama-san must fancy herself quite young still.”

That was Nanbara Sugiko’s sharp remark. “What do you mean? I’m much older than you!” “Youth isn’t something you can measure by age.” “Then what?” “Because there’s such a thing as the human spirit.” “There are young people even at fifty or sixty.” “When spiritual youth isn’t matched by physical vitality—that’s when a woman’s tragedy often occurs.” “Mama-san must still be young regardless.”

Nishina Takako was startled by the woman who casually uttered the word "body." "Isn't it fortunate to appear youthful?" Horai Kensuke cut in. "Though you're truly an old woman inside."

Horai Kazuko felt as though she had been intensely scorned by both her husband Kensuke and Nanbara Sugiko.

Nishina Rokurō kept drinking. He found himself utterly unable to speak. Anan seemed like a dazzling presence. She seemed like a woman from somewhere far away. And compared to that, his wife Takako—gently bowing her head beside him—felt like someone he could approach with ease.

“Ms. Nanbara, aren’t you going to get married?”

Nishina Takako wondered if it was wrong to say such a thing, but in her tipsy state, while entranced by Nanbara Sugiko, she timidly blurted it out. “O-Sugi thinks marriage and such things are just too foolish to even consider.”

Horai Kazuko stared intently at Nanbara Sugiko as she spoke. "No, that isn't it, Takako-san. There's a reason." Nishina Rokurō's cheeks stiffened. "Even Ms. Nanbara wants to marry—she just says she hasn't found someone to her liking yet."

Horai Kensuke looked at Nanbara Sugiko with an expression that seemed to say, "Well, yeah, I suppose so." Horai Kazuko gripped the pearl beads again.

“You seem to oppose every single thing I say.” Horai Kazuko looked at husband Kensuke with a hint of coldness.

“Oh my, I’m not getting married for reasons different from both your interpretation and your husband’s. Shall I reveal an old maid’s secret?”

Nishina Rokurō hung his head. “Of course, when I see married people, I’m terribly envious.” “But I once swore never to marry.” “It’s an old story—when I was an innocent girl, that innocent girl made a vow dedicated to a man’s death, you see.” That girl was Anan. That man was Nishina Rokurō. And this was not the past. It was the present— “How surprising—O-Sugi is such a child, isn’t she?”

“That’s right—I’m married in an invisible world, modestly preserving my chastity all this time.” Horai Kensuke saw through Nanbara Sugiko’s fabrication. Nishina Rokurō believed this invisible world belonged to them both. When their eyes suddenly met, the weary woman nodded. “Oh dear—how dreadful of me! Please forgive this—it seems I’ve made you feel uncomfortable.” Nishina Takako spoke with utter sincerity.

“No. I am happy.”

Nanbara Sugiko laughed. However, Anan began to cry. “O-Sugi is quite unexpected, isn’t she?” Horai Kazuko was bewildered. However, she couldn’t bring herself to voice that bewilderment aloud as a question. Nishina Takako was there. “Come on—anyway, we’ve got to drink more.”

Horai Kensuke said. Nanbara Sugiko energetically thrust out her glass. —Nanbara Sugiko. The triangular lines between me, Horai Kensuke, and Horai Kazuko. The triangular lines between me, Nishina Rokurō, and Horai Kazuko. The triangular lines between me, Nishina Rokurō, and Horai Kensuke. I severed the three overlapping triangular lines. I tried to sustain only the line between Nishina Rokurō and Anan. But now, a new triangular line had formed. Since Nishina Takako had appeared——

――Anan despaired――

―No, believe in Nishina Rokurō's love―

The Nishina couple were harmonious. That alone would not shake the world of Nishina Rokurō and Anan, but Nanbara Sugiko thought that the pale, delicate-faced image of Nishina Takako must remain clearly etched in Anan's mind.

“O-Sugi really doesn’t talk about herself much, does she.” “Oh, you.”

“We heard part of O-Sugi’s confession today, but there must be more to it.” “O-Sugi’s character seems rather suspicious, doesn’t it?” “It seems no one trusts me.”

Horai Kazuko looked alternately at her husband Kensuke and Nanbara Sugiko.

“Well then, if one blabbers about everything, does that become proof of being trusted?” Nanbara Sugiko said cheerfully.

“Now, now—anything’s fine,” said Horai Kensuke. “There’s nothing good about that.” “Because I like O-Sugi, I feel like going out on a limb for her.” “How about you lend me a hand for my sake?” Horai Kensuke jokingly tapped Horai Kazuko’s shoulder.

“Ms. Nanbara, how pitiful. “It must bring back old memories for you.”

At that moment, the one who offered words of sympathy to Nanbara Sugiko was Nishina Takako. Nanbara Sugiko had no choice but to nod silently. —What have I come to? I was pitied by Nishina Takako. If Anan were to declare here that she loves Nishina Rokurō and receive mockery or hatred from Nishina Takako, that would be better than being pitied—

—It's over. Everything's over. Anan couldn't say anything— Horai Kazuko, fidgeting with her pearls, grew irritated when she realized the gathering's atmosphere hadn't developed as she'd envisioned. She'd meant to display her intimate rapport with husband Kensuke to Nanbara Sugiko. Yet Horai Kensuke persistently defended Nanbara Sugiko at every juncture—and now even Nishina Takako had joined his efforts.

“Hey, Roku-chan. Don’t you think O-Sugi always seems to be wearing a mask?” Finally, she tried to obtain agreement from the last person.

“I don’t understand. “That’s not it. “Rather than that, why don’t you sing something?” Nishina Rokurō thought that having Horai Kazuko perform her specialty song would be the best way to prevent the gathering from becoming awkward. As expected, she approached the piano cheerfully. Nishina Rokurō silently commanded Anan to play. “I’ll provide accompaniment.” “Oh, O-Sugi, you can play the piano?” “Ms. Nanbara is quite the polymath.”

Horai Kazuko flipped through the sheet music and selected what appeared to be the most difficult accompaniment. “Can you play this at first sight?” “Yes. Elkennich, right?”

Nanbara Sugiko gave a wry smile. And no sooner had she placed her hands on the piano keys than she began playing rapid triplets.

Nishina Rokurō was relieved. Being able to remain silent was a relief, and Nanbara Sugiko turning her back on him felt like salvation. —Anan, what a sorrowful reunion we’ve had— He wasn’t listening to Horai Kazuko’s singing at all. And then, he clasped his hands together and stared fixedly at them. Horai Kensuke wasn’t listening either. He, sensing his wife Kazuko’s growing agitation, thought he had to find some way to placate her before this gathering ended.

Horai Kazuko, occasionally glancing at the sheet music, was enraptured by her own voice beside the piano.

No matter what anyone says, I am tonight’s central figure. Even O-Sugi has noticed that and must be seething with jealousy inside. Oh—my husband saw me and smiled tenderly. I suppose my beauty remains my greatest weapon— Nanbara Sugiko played meticulously to avoid any errors. When the piece ended, it was Nishina Takako who reacted. She had maintained a posture ready to applaud from the moment the music began, believing clapping was obligatory.

“The notes are out of tune.”

Nanbara Sugiko struck three or four keys. “O-Sugi, why didn’t you tell me you could play the piano?” Nanbara Sugiko gave a wry smile. “O-Sugi, play something.”

“Oh, I’ll play.” Nanbara Sugiko answered curtly. And then, for a while, she gazed quietly at the piano. The four men and women pricked up their ears. —Anan, poor Anan. The person you love has a happy family, you know. Takako-san is such a gentle person, you know. Anan. You mustn’t be jealous, you know. Anan, don't cry. Because the person you love mustn’t suffer—

She began to play. It was her composition. The theme had been established. She added variations while playing, developing the piece as she went along. Behind her now existed only Nishina Rokurō. The one playing was Anan.

O-Sugi played the piano. O-Sugi sang a song. She had sung before her husband. O-Sugi and herself. Youth. Talent. No—she was. She was Horai Kensuke’s wife. The qualifications of a wife. O-Sugi lacked that. No matter how accomplished O-Sugi might be，she was still an old maid— Horai Kazuko despised the old maid Nanbara Sugiko. The contempt she could muster was owed to Horai Kensuke’s presence.

Horai Kensuke was gazing at Nanbara Sugiko's sculpted profile. But he remained aware that his wife Kazuko sat beside him. Therefore, he did not forget to occasionally glance toward his wife Kazuko. The luster of Horai Kazuko's pearls seemed to him to be validating his future relationship with Nanbara Sugiko. Nishina Takako marveled at how anyone could produce such a rapid succession of varied notes. —Ah, Anan. If the piano stops, I'll go mad. Anan's sensibility. Anan's composition. Anan's sound. But still—keep going—forever—I feel like I'll go mad—

Nishina Rokurō had his eyes closed. A tremolo in the treble, a minor arpeggio. —Anan. Anan— Anan felt tears streaming down her cheek. The final three harmonies. “Anan”

Suddenly. That was Nishina Rokurō’s voice. The voice was genuine. Anan saw his figure reflected in the piano. She kept her hands on the keys and hung her head without releasing the pedal. Nishina Takako, the Horai couple—they all heard Nishina Rokurō’s cry and witnessed his expression. No one said a word. They stood frozen, looking up in stunned silence at Nishina Rokurō, who remained rigid. How could they possibly comprehend his brief, anguished cry?

Suddenly, a golden-brown cloth shimmered. Anan kept her gaze fixed straight ahead toward the door as she hurriedly crossed the room. Tears glistened.

“She’s a demoness.” “She has a demonic nature.” “Takako-san, your husband has been bewitched by a fiend.” “Now then.” “Let’s start drinking anew.” Horai Kensuke had finally managed to utter those words. For him, the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Horai had brought matters to an uneventful close was undoubtedly his primary relief.

“What’s the matter?” Takako cast an anxious gaze along with them. Nishina Rokurō dejectedly sank into the chair. At that moment, Horai Kazuko drank the glass beside her in one gulp and let out a hysterical laugh.

Thirteen

—Anan cannot go on living. In all my life, there will never again be such a grand, glorious moment of happiness. "Anan," came your voice. Anan’s moment of happiness—that glorious moment—

〈Showa 27 (1952)〉