Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Kusaka Yōko

Sugiko Minamibara. She was born on a Mars day. Under the influence of Mars, the god of war at its closest approach to Earth, she radiated that energy most intensely. Possessing a combative nature and being proactive toward her objectives, yet hers was a calamitous destiny. Moreover, at life’s final juncture, she took her stand at a complex intersection, ignoring the signals, and invited calamity upon herself.

I

Sugiko Minamibara suddenly appeared in the midst of a small society—namely, two married couples. Her age and history were unknown.

In the Osaka suburbs, at the depths of a certain backstreet in Minamitane: stone gateposts and a wooden gate. And three stepping stones. A lattice-door entrance. A steep staircase. Yellowed sliding doors. A six-tatami room facing the garden. Clothes hung on the wall. In the corner, a mandarin orange box. Inside, dishes and kitchen utensils. On the windowpane, pressed flat, a square linen handkerchief.

Sugiko Minamibara ate two slices of toast, drank a glass of milk, and quickly changed her clothes. At ten o’clock, Sugiko Minamibara appeared on the fourth floor of a building in the business district. On the third day after escaping Tokyo, she became a contractor for the advertising department of a textile company. Her job encompassed everything related to commercial broadcasting. Not even a month had passed, but she had already begun pouring Tokyo’s—no, Sugiko Minamibara’s seething blood into Kansai’s lukewarm waters. Company executives, broadcasting company personnel, and performers alike were left dumbfounded by Sugiko Minamibara’s astonishing work performance. Ms. Minamibara—she, however, never put on airs. She was well-versed in the art of drawing people in with intimacy, innocence, and generosity, embracing them and putting them at ease.

Sugiko Minamibara’s vitality—its sheer abundance. That was something everyone knew. At this point, probing into her life-for-life’s sake would hardly be of much interest.

II

A river flowing through the heart of the city—no matter how polluted its waters may be—was a good thing indeed. Modern high-rise buildings and railing-adorned restaurants were reflected in the water, completely lacking harmony. Near a bridge that seemed fit for gas lamps, the glass windows of "Karewara" came into view. It too faced the river, its entrance on the tram street. Though a café, it didn’t bother taking orders even when customers arrived.

Sugiko Minamibara sat before a small round table in the corner where she had been writing for some time. Having come to Osaka—a city she knew nothing about—the first shop she entered on impulse was this one. Though she didn't find the coffee particularly good, it was both the staff's lack of mercenary attitude and her enjoyment of watching the river that made her return frequently. Perhaps she also took something of a liking to the name Karewara.

“Could I have another glass of water, please?”

Lifting the now-empty glass and calling out toward the counter, she noticed two or three customers noisily entering at that moment.

“You must be exhausted.” “Here you go.” “Please rest for a while in the back room.” “Ah, thank you.”

“Ms. Hōrai, Karewara remains as serene as ever, doesn’t it?” “That’s right, you know—those unaccustomed to business are no good—but I’m perfectly content, for this place is ideal for lessons, you see.”

In the meantime, a glass of water was placed on the table before Sugiko Minamibara. The customers were, to be precise, two in number. That one of them was the madam here was something Sugiko Minamibara had already vaguely grasped. Now, here was a woman well along in years yet with splendidly disheveled hair and a corpulent frame. Responding with composure to the attentive service of the madam called Hōrai, Ms. Taniyama cast a fleeting glance toward Sugiko Minamibara on her way to the back. Sugiko Minamibara also looked up at her. It was lead singer Ms. Taniyama. They had met several times before, but Ms. Taniyama didn’t notice. For despite Sugiko Minamibara’s strikingly memorable appearance, she had so thoroughly concealed her own history that not the faintest trace of her Tokyo-era self surfaced in her demeanor. Ms. Taniyama and the other accompanying man followed Madam into the back room. Sugiko Minamibara downed the water in one gulp and began resuming her writing. By now, she had already forgotten about Ms. Taniyama. But before long, she found herself listening to the sound of a piano and a woman’s singing voice coming from the back room. The one singing was undoubtedly Madam. Before long, young women carrying music scores came one after another and were ushered to the back.

When Sugiko Minamibara finished writing and laid her fountain pen down on the desk, a voice cried out, "Oh!"

“Oh, so it was you after all. (Though truth be told, I’d realized it all along.)” “I didn’t realize earlier. When your hairstyle changes, you look completely different, don’t you? Still keeping busy?”

The man who had taken a seat in the chair next to Sugiko Minamibara hurriedly lit a cigarette. He had apparently come out from the back to smoke. Sugiko Minamibara also took out a cigarette. “She’s overdoing the portamento.” “The Madam here takes singing lessons as a hobby.” “Well, perhaps as a hobby.” “But she’s moderately famous in Kansai.” “Ms. Taniyama seems to have declined too.”

Sugiko Minamibara laughed nonchalantly. “But it’s a good voice.” “Who? Oh—Madam? Having a good voice is innate talent, isn’t it? Is it Mozart or Gypsy songs?”

The man remained silent. “Spoken like a true amateur.”

The man remained silent still.

“Why not carve out some time for ‘hobby appreciation’? The sponsor could be a part-time job agency.”

“What can you do, Ms.?”

“Me? Pantomime.”

The man laughed. Sugiko Minamibara was highly amused that she had made the man laugh. Because even though she had met this man two or three times before, she had never once seen him laugh.

Rokurō Nishina. He was employed at a broadcasting company. Sugiko Minamibara had only exchanged businesslike conversation with him regarding work matters.

“Do you come to this café often?” “Often. But I’ve never spoken with Madam.” “Shall I introduce you?” “(Interested? You seem to be.) Go ahead.”

Just then, Madam appeared. She was in excellent spirits. There, an ordinary introduction took place.

Sugiko Minamibara. Rokurō Nishina. Kazuko Hōrai.

It was not uncommon for significant connections to arise by chance in the most unexpected places. Once such things became past, the circumstances of their origin hardly mattered. Everything without exception tended to start from utterly ordinary, mundane beginnings.

That day’s gathering of the three ended there. Sugiko Minamibara tucked the coffee money into her handbag and left Karewara. In her mind, Rokurō Nishina and Kazuko Hōrai had already faded away. Though she always wore her hair in a neat bun, today she had let it cascade long down her back. She should have presented herself to Kazuko Hōrai with that proper updo during their first meeting. That was all Sugiko Minamibara fleetingly thought.

She walked down the road with her chest thrust out and made her way to the dance studio. She taught dance three times a week. At the studio, she went by Akabane-sensei—those who came there firmly believed she was a dance instructor. Separately, she also taught piano at the studio. She had about ten students. They were absolutely convinced she was a piano teacher. After all, that was undeniably true.

It was two or three days after their first meeting that Sugiko Minamibara remembered Kazuko Hōrai. She had been too busy to find time to stop by Karewara. With the midday siren, she leapt into the elevator and came to the broadcasting company, where she unexpectedly encountered Rokurō Nishina at the reception desk.

“Thank you for the other day.”

Sugiko Minamibara gave a brief greeting and went to meet the sales personnel. At that moment，she recalled Kazuko Hōrai’s cheerful，fluent chattering voice. And then，suddenly，Sugiko Minamibara wanted to see her. It was out of curiosity.

After finishing her company business and hurrying down the narrow hallway to the reception desk, she found Rokurō Nishina still there.

“Why don’t we go get some soba?”

Sugiko Minamibara juxtaposed soba, Nishina, and Kazuko Hōrai in her mind. "I have some business to attend to. Next time, okay?"

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

When she entered Karewara, the sound of a piano came from the back, where Madam was practicing her lead. If she wanted customers to hear her, she should sing jazz instead, Sugiko Minamibara thought before smiling wryly. There wasn’t a single customer. The daffodils on the counter were beginning to wilt. A girl said while making coffee, "Shall I call Madam?" Sugiko Minamibara nodded with a bright smile.

“Oh, welcome! I’ve been waiting for you!”

“My apologies for the other day—I’ve been so busy…” “So I’ve heard. Roku-chan said. I hear you do everything all by yourself.” Roku-chan—seems you’re quite close. He’s so absent-minded that he’s hopeless at work… What a lovely establishment. “Enjoy yourself.”

“Oh my! We’re not making a single yen here, you know. You’re from Tokyo, aren’t you? I’m Ms. Taniyama’s disciple, aren’t I? Oh, you must’ve noticed our mentor earlier. That’s how she comes once a month for lessons, you know. All of Ms. Taniyama’s disciples in Kansai come here, you know. Whether it’s a proper shop or just a practice studio, I can’t even tell, you know.”

Sugiko Minamibara liked people who would talk at length to her. During that time she could think about other things and also thoroughly observe them—after all.

―Just what kind of life did this person lead? Oh dear, she was praising Taniyama again. Since she had no disciples in Tokyo, she'd come flitting down to Kansai—but oh, there was a shadow around her neck. She must have been quite old―

“Don’t you play music?” “I love it, but I have no talent, I’m afraid.” “You—if you don’t mind my asking—how old are you?” “I’m too embarrassed to say my age (Though honestly—how old am I really?).” “Oh, forgive me! “You look so young, and living alone?”

“Yes.”

“And your family?” “Tokyo.” “Oh, so you’re all alone then?” “Well…”

Sugiko Minamibara finally burst into laughter. It was because Kazuko Hōrai’s questions weren’t interesting in the least. Kazuko Hōrai, however, had thought that this woman must have a man in her life. “How lovely. You must be having fun.” Sugiko Minamibara smiled even more wryly. “Tokyo is treating you well, isn’t it? “And perhaps a women’s university?”

“No, not at all.”

“Oh…” “I used to visit Tokyo quite often before the war, I must say.” “Hibiya brings back such memories, I must say.” “You know, after you had some sweets, I’ve come to like you very much, I must say.” “Your hairstyle is charming, I must say.”

Sugiko Minamibara couldn’t get a single word in edgewise. But even without trying to ask, she had discerned that Kazuko Hōrai was the type of person incapable of keeping secrets to herself. As expected, “Don’t you like sweets?” “Wouldn’t you care for some beer?” “Let’s have some.”

With that, they both downed their drinks, after which Kazuko Hōrai launched into even more chatter. Twenty years earlier, she had graduated from a school in the Hanshin region known as the Kansai Gakushūin, married immediately afterward, and now resided on the grounds of a mansion destroyed in the war—having built a duplex where she lived separately from her brother and his wife’s family. Her parents back home had died in quick succession after the war, though they’d been wealthy luminaries in Kansai society with connections to figures like a certain Imperial aide-de-camp and a former foreign minister. Both pianos had been stored in a fireproof warehouse and survived the flames; she’d brought one of them here. At home she taught singing lessons to young children. Since her husband’s salary proved meager, she’d resorted to opening this café. Three years it had been now. Kazuko Hōrai recounted all these matters with the wistful air of one narrating her fading aristocratic clan’s decline.

“Ms. Taniyama’s students’ recital will be coming up soon, you know.” “Do come listen with Roku-chan, won’t you?”

It seemed she had finally reached a pause. However, it was the name of Nishina Rokurō that had surfaced at the end. Then, at a rapid tempo once more, Kazuko Hōrai launched back into talking. "I've known Roku-chan for ten years now, I must say." "He's such a wonderful person—you really should get involved with him." "I'm really quite fond of him, you know." "He does too, you know." "He says he likes me, you know." "But you know... Hohoho."

Sugiko Minamibara took a breath, thinking this might finally signal the end. But, “You know, I really like you, I must say.” “Your aura is simply wonderful, I must say. Let’s become good friends, shall we?” “Let’s have a drink with Roku-chan—all three of us—sometime, I must say.” “I’m so happy, I must say.” “To have met someone like you, I must say.”

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

“Oh, it’s easier without them, I must say.” “But why did you come to notice there aren’t any, I must say?” “I understand—you’re still young after all.”

The conversation ended.

Sugiko Minamibara left Karewara. It was extremely pleasant. Was it because of the beer? Was it because of Kazuko Hōrai’s loquaciousness? No—Sugiko Minamibara had forgotten both the taste of the beer and the lengthy monologue. Why was she feeling so pleasant? She herself didn’t notice for quite some time. When she passed the train street and turned toward the spinning company, she discovered what that pleasantness was. It was the presence of Rokurō Nishina.

III

“Hey, cut it out with the ‘Ms. Minamibara’.”

“Why did you suddenly bring that up?” “You seem quite reluctant to take off your mask.” “So it’s annoying that even I have to be conscious of ‘Ms. Minamibara’.” “(I want to discover the raw him soon.)” “Then what will you call me?”

“Anan.”

“Anan—is that a nickname?” “No. No one calls you Anan.” “I’m giving myself that name—Anan—all on my own (truthfully something I just came up with this moment.” “Though wasn’t Ananda male?)” “Why?”

“Just because.”

Rokurō Nishina tightened his arms and unconsciously bit her tanned shoulder. The one being held was Sugiko Minamibara.

“Hey… why did you get into this?”

“I don’t know.” “That’s an uncharacteristic answer from you.” “It’s just a spur-of-the-moment thing.” “That’s even more unlike you.” “(Seems I’ve been preempted.) But spur-of-the-moment things occur frequently, don’t they?” “And they’re not limited to any specific person.”

“Then what about you?”

“Call me Anan.” “I’m not some spur-of-the-moment thing—or am I really?” “Did you plan this?” “Oh no. “It’s as if I did the seducing. “It’s just that some force at work made things turn out this way.” “That’s a strange philosophy. “There’s no logic to it.”

“Spur-of-the-moment things are entirely illogical, you know.”

The two of them laughed. And then they embraced each other tightly. Sugiko Minamibara, while feeling the sensation of Rokurō Nishina’s lips pressed firmly against her neck, reconsidered once more how the presence of Kazuko Hōrai had brought Rokurō Nishina and herself closer together. Rokurō Nishina was a man who existed because of Kazuko Hōrai.

“Is there something between you and Madam Karewara?” “Why?” “But we do like each other, don’t we?”

While fastening the snaps of her dress, she asked Nishina Rokurō. There was no reply. Sugiko Minamibara sensed he was pretending not to hear. When parting at the station, Rokurō Nishina—who had briefly made a gesture suggesting he wanted to say something before closing his mouth and walking off without turning back—revealed a certain coldness in the way the back of his head retreated that intensely captivated Sugiko Minamibara; yet the moment she boarded her train, that fascination turned into an even deeper loneliness. And once again, she tried to recall the day’s events.

It had only been a day since yesterday. Yesterday, she went to Karewara and met Ms. Hōrai; on her way back, she experienced a pleasurable sensation, and today, she met Nishina Rokurō with emotions different from 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. Rokurō Nishina insisted that broadcasting was an art form. He also spoke about what direction entailed. “Novelists can write as many pages as they want, painters can paint canvases of any size, films and plays aren’t bound by time constraints—yet broadcasting has strict time limits, you know.” “Down to the very second.” “I shudder at the thought.”

He answered that within time constraints, it was both difficult and crucial to most effectively pack every grain of sand into each second. In work-related conversations, they did not reveal their true selves to each other. “Care for a drink?”

This time, it was Nishina Rokurō who extended the invitation. “Then I’ll finish my work by five—it should take about two hours.” “At Karewara.”

Rokurō Nishina was momentarily flustered but answered, “That’s fine.” The reason Sugiko Minamibara had specified Karewara was not out of any intention to invite Kazuko Hōrai if she were present. She was absent today. Yesterday, she had heard that Kazuko had been chatting with the shop girls for a few moments. She had said she had business in Kobe starting at five o’clock.

Sugiko Minamibara hurried to the dance lesson venue. She let her hair down, applied bold rouge, continued dancing until five minutes before five o’clock, tied up her hair, and came to Karewara.

Nishina Rokurō was gazing at the river. They went to a bar under Nishina Rokurō’s guidance. The woman at the bar gazed curiously at Sugiko Minamibara. And then she listened curiously to her words. They drank beer and whiskey.

“Are you single, Ms. Minamibara?”

“(Everyone’s interested in the same things.) No one ever proposes to someone like me.”

“You don’t think about getting married, do you?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so.” “I don’t have confidence.” “Aren’t you practically drowning in suitors?”

“Hold on now.” “Confidence—it’s that I don’t have a wife’s confidence.”

“Why?” “I can’t seem to make men feel at ease.” “A housewife’s duty must be tolerance.” “And yet I’m terribly selfish.” “If I were to marry, as a housewife I’d have an obligation to put my husband at ease—but I’d surely end up irritating him instead.” “Even though you have no experience.”

“I should be able to infer that from my own character.” “Then what about romance?”

“I do—but I won’t get married.”

“Do you have confidence in romance?”

“You’re so analytical about this. If I fall in love, I lose all confidence from that very day onward. Living—I may have confidence in my work, you know. But love makes you blind.”

“You?” “Really?” “It’s true.” Sugiko Minamibara felt something odd even as she said, “It’s true.” Because she could force herself to become a blind woman, she never truly became blind through and through. She had realized this.

“Did you have a love marriage?” “No—an arranged meeting, just once.”

“How long has it been?”

“Four years.”

“Do you have any children?”

"Not yet. I do want them."

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

“No, I was imagining what your love must be like—a romance that’s thoroughly explored all possible limits.” “One plus one equals two, I suppose.” “You saw through me.” “Indeed, I’m the sort of man who can’t rest until one plus one equals two.” “In everything.” “You’re no poet.” “You really are a broadcaster through and through.”

“What about you?”

“Me? 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 certainly are things that can’t be cleanly resolved.” “With all these unresolved things about yourself, I’m amazed you can keep living like this.”

“Why, it’s precisely because there’s unresolvedness that I’m alive.” “I don’t get it. “I don’t get it.”

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

At that moment,

“But I’ve come to like you. Is it because you seem like someone living in a world I know nothing about?”

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 want to completely forget myself.” “I used to be able to feel that pleasant sensation often before, but…” “Even if I listen to music, even if I look at the scenery.” “But it doesn’t work anymore.” “There’s always this self of mine.”

“I’m a man who’s never known intoxication in life, though. When looking at things, you never insert subjectivity. I learned that through music—what they call Neue Sachlichkeit. It’s become a way to interpret living itself.” “You’re a strong one. In evil, no less?” Suddenly, Rokurō Nishina’s hand and Sugiko Minamibara’s hand touched. They grasped each other’s hands. It was in front of a certain hotel.

Sugiko Minamibara finished her reminiscence on the second floor of the boarding house. It was late at night.

She had completely severed Rokurō Nishina from Kazuko Hōrai. Even without Madam’s presence, she thought things would have turned out that way with Rokurō Nishina. What is love? Nishina Rokurō and she herself did not understand each other. Rokurō Nishina did not deeply know her past, nor did he know what kind of life she was leading now. She had merely shown a part of herself subtly. Even if Rokurō Nishina knew thirty percent of her, in reality it wouldn’t amount to ten percent. She, too, did not understand most of Rokurō Nishina. As for age—he must be thirty-five or thirty-six? In his fourth year of marriage—was he the usual kind of man? No—she tried to deny it. And the fact that she denied it wasn’t out of self-respect, but because she thought there was something profoundly pure in what she felt for him—something that existed apart from carnal desire. It was enough just to feel. In other words, understanding was unnecessary in romance.

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

Observing herself—Anan, this newly born Anan—being drawn to Rokurō Nishina made her forget the complicated, arid life of Ms. Minamibara the teacher and return to her true self. That was her own solace and interest—

Sugiko Minamibara changed into her nightgown and laid out the futon.

*Anan.* *Fall in love.* *Burn—*

Four

It was several days before Ms. Taniyama's esteemed Kansai disciples' recital.

Rokurō Nishina, Kazuko Hōrai, and Sugiko Minamibara held their second three-person meeting. It was likely around the third week. In pairs, they had been meeting frequently. The relationship between Rokurō Nishina and Sugiko Minamibara—that is, the part of her called Anan—had been growing increasingly deeper. However, they maintained their isolated lives. They did not stay out overnight. When it came to work matters, they were merely the professional Nishina and Minamibara. In places where others’ eyes were present, Anan was completely expelled from within Sugiko Minamibara. Kazuko Hōrai and Sugiko Minamibara also appeared, in outward appearances, to be deepening their intimacy as female comrades. But Sugiko Minamibara did not expose herself. For example, about life, romance, music—Kazuko Hōrai chattered on in her usual manner. “I’m non-moral—I have romances with people other than my husband.” “I’m a humanist, you know—I’m single-mindedly truthful.” Sugiko Minamibara listened with a breathy laugh. Occasionally, even if asked things like “You…,” she would say, “I don’t know.” Sugiko Minamibara gave a wry smile at how Kazuko was using the truth of masks as a pretext to peddle the truth of pretense. Kazuko Hōrai inwardly despised Sugiko Minamibara as a surprisingly shallow woman. But still, she lavished praise: “You are a wonderful person.” She said she was being truthful toward her. Rokurō Nishina’s name frequently came up in conversation.

“He is a good person,” said Sugiko Minamibara. Once, the gazes of Kazuko Hōrai and Sugiko Minamibara clashed over Rokurō Nishina for a while. They tried to read each other’s innermost thoughts. Kazuko Hōrai’s age had reached a point where she interpreted displaying jealousy in front of another woman as something terribly unsightly. Sugiko Minamibara said, “I feel jealous seeing you and Mr. Nishina being close.” Kazuko Hōrai basked in her sense of superiority for a while.

She occasionally met with Nishina Rokurō and Hōrai Kazuko. Kazuko Hōrai developed affection for Rokurō Nishina as if spurred on by Sugiko Minamibara’s emergence. It was Kazuko Hōrai’s true love. Rokurō Nishina told Kazuko Hōrai that he loved Sugiko Minamibara. “My, how jealous I am, Roku-chan! But that person is truly a good person, isn’t she?” That was Kazuko Hōrai’s answer. And again, she had only told Sugiko Minamibara about what Nishina Rokurō had confessed to her. At that moment, Sugiko Minamibara became one hundred percent certain— in other words, the relationship between Rokurō Nishina and Kazuko Hōrai existed.

Now, the three-person meeting began with a music critique. It was the bar that Kazuko Hōrai had introduced. “Sugi,” (Kazuko Hōrai had begun calling her this at some point) “you’re such a perceptive person—even if you don’t know music formally, you could share impressions rather than critiques.” “Would you let me hear them?”

“Oh, I don’t understand a thing about it—but your voice is wonderful, such good taste.” Kazuko Hōrai listed a litany of criticisms about the other disciples. Rokurō Nishina chimed in. Sugiko Minamibara listened with a smirking grin.

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

Kazuko Hōrai and Sugiko Minamibara had drifted away from music and were discussing mundane trends.

“I don’t know a damn thing about clothes.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” “Don’t leave me out now, Roku-chan. What do you think of Sugi’s black suit?” “It doesn’t suit her at all.” “Sugi looks better in bright colors.” Sugiko Minamibara knew full well that black was difficult to wear gracefully and only truly flattered beauties. Yet just days earlier, Rokurō Nishina had lavishly praised her outfit.

“I don’t know a damn thing about color coordination.” “When Sugi wears black, she looks too prim.”

Sugiko Minamibara gave a sharp laugh as she removed her suit jacket. A spotless white sleeveless silk blouse. This was the season when everyone layered long undergarments. Thus her bare, liberated arms appeared strikingly provocative beneath the pale green electric light, leaving both Rokurō Nishina and Kazuko Hōrai momentarily speechless. This was Sugiko Minamibara’s counterattack—Rokurō had failed to compliment her black ensemble.

“Aren’t you cold? How young you are.” “I always wear this underneath my coat all winter long.” “That’s so like the active Sugi.”

The conversation became tangled. They had drunk quite a lot. The footing of other patrons dancing away from their seats grew unsteady. Jazz steeped in sweetness and melancholy seeped into the space between them.

“Sugi, can you dance?”

“Yes, can you?” “I don’t know. Dance with Roku-chan.” “Ms., care to dance?”

Sugiko Minamibara stood up. Kazuko Hōrai assumed her Madam-of-the-stand posture, primed for her trademark loquacity. Rokurō Nishina’s dancing transcended mere ineptitude. Yet Sugiko Minamibara followed his lead with pliant obedience. Kazuko Hōrai kept her face resolutely forward. Still, her hyperawareness of their every movement hung thick in the air. Sugiko Minamibara let her left hand drift upward to graze Rokurō’s nape. Rokurō’s right hand tightened its grip. Their lips collided—swift, furtive, electric.

“Roku-chan.” “How enviable.” “You get to dance with Sugi.” When the piece ended, Kazuko Hōrai turned around and winked at Rokurō Nishina as she called out to him. “Madam, I’ll lead, so let’s dance.”

Sugiko Minamibara, finding the forty-year-old Kazuko Hōrai suddenly radiant, found herself wanting to touch her body.

“Oh, how delightful!” “Sugi. Will you teach me?”

Sugiko Minamibara lightly embraced Kazuko Hōrai, who had jumped down from the high chair. “Put both hands on my shoulders, don’t tense your legs—it’s four-beat, isn’t it? Move to the music.” Sugiko Minamibara felt Kazuko Hōrai’s withered flesh through the wool skirt.

“Don’t look at your feet.”

Kazuko Hōrai raised her face. Sugiko Minamibara observed the sagging beneath her eyes, the dark shadows formed by that sagging, and the fine wrinkles at her hairline—all clearly visible through slightly smudged makeup. Yet she felt no sense of superiority. For while her features spoke of former beauty, her looks had already faded. Her body was frail, her senses nearly numb. Her intellect was shallow. But she possessed charm. She radiated a bewitching aura. This was Kazuko Hōrai—a woman who prided herself on being desirable. What force in the world made Kazuko Hōrai such an ostentatious presence? Sugiko Minamibara felt an unprecedented interest surging toward her. The piece ended.

“I was so happy… To be able to dance with you… Thank goodness I vaguely remembered how to lead.”

Sugiko Minamibara’s attitude transformed completely. Rokurō Nishina made a perplexed face. To such an extent, so suddenly did Sugiko Minamibara offer Kazuko Hōrai words of intimate tenderness.

“Oh—it’s me who should say that! Please dance with me often from now on. You’re a wonderful person—I like you.”

“I like you too. I adore beautiful people.” Kazuko Hōrai became ecstatic. *I’ve won over another one*, she thought. “Roku-chan. Don’t be jealous now—it’s fine since we’re both women.” “What strange people.”

Sugiko Minamibara tapped her finger two or three times on the spilled beer atop the stand and drew a triangle before Rokurō Nishina. And immediately erased it. Sugiko Minamibara drew a triangle again on the tatami in her second-floor boarding house room. The moment she did, Anan surfaced vividly. There is Anan. Anan is in love with Rokurō Nishina. Anan isn’t concerned about Kazuko Hōrai. Anan, you—what do you think of Sugiko Minamibara?— Anan did not answer.

Anan did not answer.

5

“Sugi is living with someone, you know.” “I’m sure of it.” “But Sugi has this refreshingly straightforward side to her, so she’s not an *apure*, you know.”

Kazuko Hōrai said to Rokurō Nishina. He remained silent. —We (Rokurō Nishina had calmly begun to regard himself and Anan as 'we', and yet within his consciousness had already unconsciously come to call her Anan) were meeting frequently. And we knew each other’s real selves. And we must have been in love. But I seemed to know nothing about Anan. I didn’t ask. She didn’t say anything either. Moreover, she never asked about my wife—never inquired about anyone at all. The matter concerning Kazuko Hōrai had only been mentioned once. Did Anan feel no jealousy? Or was I merely an object of fleeting pleasure for her? No, that couldn’t be. I simply couldn’t perceive it that way. What’s more, it was certain she had no other man. She was fresh. Always fresh. But ours was a peculiar relationship. Lovers bound in silence.

Not even “I love you” had we ever uttered to each other. They had come to trust and understand each other through silence. It was strange. But this was how it should be. It was completely free, and conversely, an enduring love. No, wait—it wasn’t free. When I embraced my wife’s body, I inadvertently pictured Anan. It was painful—an intangible constraint.

Anan and I. We didn’t even talk about the future. A breakup—such a thing was unthinkable—

“Roku-chan.” “Oh no.” “Lately, you’re always so sullen.” “You’ve really fallen for Sugi, haven’t you?” “I’ve already become your roadside stone, haven’t I?” “I’m not saying I want to go back ten years with you or anything.” “But you’re supposed to confide everything in me, aren’t you?” “Ah—no, I don’t want to hear it.” “I understand.” “I understand, you know.”

Kazuko Hōrai struck Rokurō Nishina’s cheek as hard as she could. Rokurō Nishina felt nothing at having been struck. He had been thinking only of Anan.

It was 10 p.m., a full two weeks after the trio’s meeting. They stood in a back alley after drinking. For Rokurō Nishina and Kazuko Hōrai, the day was not yet over. Both kept insisting on more drinks, starting again with stiff expressions—and by the time they finished, the Kobe-bound train Kazuko Hōrai needed had already left.

“Come stay at my home.”

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

Rokurō Nishina slowed his pace.

“Which one’s your house?” “No, we’re not there yet.”

“Well then, let’s hurry.”

Kazuko Hōrai 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? Had a bit too much to drink?” Kazuko Hōrai had effortlessly cast aside the earlier awkward atmosphere and was now looking forward to the trust the person she was about to meet would place in her. Nishina Rokurō, sensing this, thought bitterly. He suddenly felt sympathy for his wife.

In the dim electric light, his wife, Takako, was mending socks. Flustered by the sudden intruder, she began preparing tea. “I’m afraid dinner isn’t quite ready yet.” “Oh, I’m quite all right, really. I don’t want anything at all, truly disturbing you at such a late hour.” “I’ll eat.” Rokurō Nishina had always known that Takako waited for his return without eating. While the couple ate, Kazuko Hōrai began chatting nearby.

“You two make such a wonderful couple. How envious I am.” “What an excellent wife she is. You’re truly fortunate.”

The meal ended. Rokurō Nishina concealed his bitter feelings and spoke kindly to Takako. Takako was pleased by that.

That my husband loves me—showing it to another woman feels so good.

And through Kazuko Hōrai’s artful conversation, even that initial sense of shame had been completely erased. Takako absolutely believed in her husband. She loved her husband. That fact was something Kazuko Hōrai had been first to grasp.

“I’m sorry． Hey… I doubted you a little—you—I was wrong． Please forgive me． That lady’s quite nice‚ isn’t she?”

After Kazuko Hōrai had been guided to the second-floor room, the virtuous wife whispered to her husband while preparing the bedding.

It was around three o'clock. Until then, the three of them had been pleasantly making small talk. Kazuko Hōrai had confirmed that she had gained his wife’s trust. And she immediately fell asleep. It was an astonishing innocence. She only felt jealousy toward Sugiko Minamibara. If Rokurō Nishina's caresses were directed at Takako, she wouldn't particularly mind. On the contrary, she found it enjoyable to imagine the scene downstairs. It resembled the erotic pleasure of those obsessed with matchmaking. Laced with a peculiar superiority.

Rokurō Nishina could not sleep a wink. More than the woman upstairs, more than his wife sleeping in untroubled peace—it was because Anan laughed within his consciousness. Kazuko Hōrai did not once mention Sugiko Minamibara’s name in front of Takako. Rokurō Nishina, of course, had not mentioned it either. He felt relieved that the topic had not come up, yet conversely resented Kazuko Hōrai’s deliberately artificial attitude. Rokurō Nishina felt like disturbing Takako’s quiet sleep. And pressed his lips to both her eyelids. Takako remained asleep. Within him, Anan still smiled. Rokurō Nishina resolved that tomorrow, without fail, he would uncover Anan’s true identity.

Dawn was approaching. Sugiko Minamibara spent a sleepless night.

Anan, you need to think this through. Rokurō Nishina 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 racing down the tracks. She has no brakes—"

—Then where is Sugiko Minamibara headed? —

Anan was dragging Sugiko Minamibara along as she ran. But even Anan’s destination remained unknown. She was running with her eyes closed—

――I can’t marry that person. Someday…— ――Don’t say it.— ――Anan. I love Anan—the 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. Endlessly—

Roku

At Karewara, a vase full of anemones had been arranged vividly. It was something Sugiko Minamibara had ordered from a florist to be delivered. “To think flowers would be sent to you.” “I must say, it makes me question the sender’s taste.” “I did say I’d let you meet her once.” “Though they say she’s wonderful, women are pretty much all the same.” “If they’re all the same, you should’ve grown tired of your affairs by now.” “They’re mostly the same, but discovering where they differ is the fun part. How about you—do you ever find that?”

“Yes, I’m still the same as ever. I’m still quite fascinated by other men besides you, you know.” “Well, by all means, go right ahead. But if you’ve been staying out three nights straight—even as a husband who officially permits his wife’s affairs—I’d at least show some spousal concern. Wondering if you’ve gotten hurt or fallen ill somewhere. I don’t think it’s anything like a love suicide, though. After all, it’s still somewhat connected to you. Being dragged along by the string, there’s no saying something like responsibility won’t come falling on me, after all.”

“Oh, how very kind of you.” “If you’ve got that much consideration to spare, then by all means work your fingers to the bone earning it.” “You can’t expect me to scrape by on a measly ten thousand yen a month!” “Well, that’s true.” “But that’s separate from the infidelity talk.” “My affairs wrap up in two hours, but yours take three days.”

Kazuko Hōrai and her husband Kensuke were continuing their futile argument at the idle Karewara. Kazuko Hōrai believed she had her husband completely figured out. Even if he went on about infidelity, she thought he was actually too cowardly to do anything. In reality, Kensuke engaged in flashy womanizing but considered it foolish to maintain long-term relationships with any one woman. In general, things like love were felt in an instant, and when that moment ceased to be a moment, he already considered it ennui. Moreover, there was only carnal desire. He also viewed his wife as nothing more than a tool. A tool should have its functions, yet his wife failed to perform the primary one—producing children. She could not. The second function: she did not tidy the house, cook meals, or wait for her husband’s return. As a wife, she was a failure. But Kensuke had come to acknowledge his wife’s performance solely in the fact that her beauty had been envied by others. That too was a bygone era. Now she had nothing left as a wife, yet legally they remained husband and wife—a couple recognized by society. He himself was merely acknowledging it.

“Fine then—you’re a park bench.” “Public property, you know.”

Just as Kazuko Hōrai was about to respond to the insult of being called a bench, the door opened with Sugiko Minamibara’s cheerful voice.

“Did the flowers arrive?” “Ah yes—they’re here—how nice.” “Oh my—thank you so much, Sugi.” “I’m so happy.”

Kazuko Hōrai stood up from her chair and approached Sugiko Minamibara.

“In front of the florist’s—they were just too beautiful.” “Ah, I’m exhausted.” “You must be busy.” “It’s gotten quite warm, hasn’t it?”

Sugiko Minamibara noticed a man watching them.

“Sugi.” “It’s my Dantsuku.” “There we go.” “You—the one you’ve been waiting for.” Kazuko Hōrai laughed in a slightly sarcastic manner. Sugiko Minamibara lightly bowed her head, and then—

“Hey, could you hold onto this for me? I’ve got to dash out for a bit.” For the first time, Kazuko Hōrai noticed the large wrapped bundle. Because until then, she had been preoccupied with observing Sugiko Minamibara’s appearance. “Yes yes, I’ll hold onto it for you. Oh right right, I stayed over at Roku-chan’s place yesterday. His wife is such a lovely person. They get along so well, just wonderfully!”

Kazuko Hōrai probed Sugiko Minamibara’s expression, but Sugiko Minamibara remained composed. Kazuko Hōrai was slightly disappointed. But she found it amusing that she had deliberately spoken about last night’s events loud enough for her husband behind her to hear.

“Well then, I’ll take my leave. I’ll come back again.”

Sugiko Minamibara acknowledged Kensuke Hōrai with a glance and hurriedly left.

After that.

“Well?” “She’s far better than you.”

Kazuko Hōrai wasn’t particularly angry.

“Hey, what do you think about that? Whether she’s a virgin or not.” “That’s none of my business.” “Hey, it’s apparently Roku-chan.” “So you’re jealous? How pathetic. By the way, you stayed at Roku-chan’s place last night. The fact you mentioned that shows how clueless you are.” “Why am I so clueless, I wonder? There’s no harm in saying it.” “You tried to provoke a reaction, but it backfired.”

“Just leave me alone already! Enough with your nagging!” Kazuko Hōrai cared less about what dealings Sugiko Minamibara had with Rokurō Nishina than about uncovering her true feelings toward him. Enough already. Why couldn’t she just get jealous of me? Suffer properly? Confess everything to someone as trustworthy as me? This eerie carnal desire. Anemone blossoms— Kazuko Hōrai began resenting Sugiko Minamibara. Though Sugiko frequented Karewara constantly, she never once spoke of Rokurō Nishina. And Rokurō himself maintained equal silence toward Kazuko.

“What’s that bundle?”

Kensuke was concerned that the large box-shaped furoshiki bundle was still left carelessly. “It doesn’t matter what it is.”

Kazuko Hōrai roughly carried it to the back room and immediately opened the piano lid. The piano’s notes were riddled with mistakes, and the voice was screaming hysterically. —Surprisingly, I discovered a good quality in my wife—

Her husband left Karewara with a bitter smile.

Sugiko Minamibara was hurrying along the afternoon pavement. From the music store, she was heading to the lesson venue. Having bought the newly imported Franck sheet music, she was about to start playing immediately. As she walked, she did not look around. She walked with a steady gait, staring straight ahead—a pose that had long since become second nature—while her mind churned with countless thoughts. It’s been four days since I last saw that person. I’m anxious. It’s Anan who’s anxious. Anan is feeling lonely. He was with Kazuko Hōrai yesterday—

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

In a secluded corner of the nearby café, the two of them sat facing each other. Rokurō Nishina had called the textile company twice. Both times she had been absent. He had resolved that he absolutely must meet her today no matter what. Anan too had wanted to see him again.

“I wanted to see you.”

“Me too.” “Why is that, I wonder?”

“I don’t know either.”

“But I’m relieved we met.”

“That’s right.” Both their anxieties and doubts had vanished completely. He asked nothing unnecessary. He said nothing unnecessary either. This was Rokurō Nishina’s creed. Sugiko Minamibara differed. She relished eliciting responses even when unnecessary. She harbored curiosity that compelled speech when silence sufficed. Yet Anan remained silent, having already placed absolute trust in Rokurō Nishina without reservation. Anan stood fundamentally apart from Sugiko Minamibara. She was a woman who loved. Who felt jealousy. Thus anxiety had gripped her heart until meeting Rokurō Nishina. Facing him now, it dissolved entirely.

“I think Anan is happy.”

Anan smiled warmly. Rokurō Nishina also nodded with a smile. Then, the sheet music that had been placed under the table suddenly fell to the floor and rolled to Rokurō Nishina’s feet.

“Sheet music?” “Yes.” “Whose is it?” “Anan’s.” “Anan, I play the piano, you know.” “Why have you kept it hidden until now?” “I never had the chance to say—when Anan says she’ll play, it’s when she starts playing right by the piano.” “That’s some confidence.” “Yes, but I can’t play anything except modern pieces in front of others.”

“I want you to play for me.” “It’s not merely technical.” “I’ll listen to anything.” “How cruel of you to say ‘anything’s fine.’ I’ve settled on my own way of playing. Though I made various changes. But I think I can manage Ravel and Debussy at best.”

“Who taught you?” “I studied under most of the people you know, but quit them all because I disliked them.” “The rest I picked up from records and books.”

“Why didn’t you become a pianist?”

“Oh, I might still become one, you know.”

Anan spoke. A woman in love is filled with joy in the presence of her lover. “If you have time, I’ll let you listen now.”

“Where?” Anan laughed but said nothing, putting her mouth to the straw of her cold drink.

The dance hall remained hushed. There was one hour until opening. Moreover, 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 paint-chipped upright piano.

*Reflections in the Water* Clear, yet not rigid. It was like dewdrops rolling away, and it aroused a desire to reach out and touch the sound.

“Anan, you’re a wonderful person.” Rokurō Nishina approached her from behind as she finished playing. “I think Anan played well too, but I’m happy to be praised.” Anan’s cheeks flushed as she tilted her head to the side. “Anan.” Rokurō Nishina embraced Anan’s shoulders with both hands. Anan remained dazed for a while. But she returned to being Sugiko Minamibara. The dance lesson was about to begin. They went outside. They made plans to meet at six and parted ways. The meeting place was the café on the corner where they had parted. They both refused to meet in the same place every time. Rokurō Nishina was wary of prying eyes.

Anan always wanted both to receive new impressions and to impart them herself. A fixed place. A fixed time. A fixed day of the week. Because that would become a trite and wearisome routine. Sugiko Minamibara hurried to Karewara, retrieved her luggage (Kazuko Hōrai was absent), and returned to the studio. There was a tango contest in five months. She had made the dress intending to compete. After storing her luggage and changing shoes, she began practicing with her partner. She was already Akabane-sensei. For five days, she was on teaching leave. Three or four groups; those who had come to dance were practicing independently in corners. First they danced the quickstep two or three times to loosen their legs, then moved on to the exhibition tango. She kept dancing until five-thirty. Throughout that time, there wasn’t even a fragment of Anan.

“Anan, what on earth are you thinking?”

Rokurō Nishina finally asked. It was neither out of suspicion nor curiosity, nor an attempt to uncover her true self. He simply wanted to understand.

“Anan is thinking about you. Not just thinking—obsessing over you, I tell you.” In reality, what Anan had said was true. However, Sugiko Minamibara must have been observing such Anan from the sidelines. Rokurō Nishina considered Anan and Sugiko Minamibara a single, inseparable entity. “Anan, if I were to leave my wife and propose to you—”

Rokurō Nishina lacked that courage. But for the first time, he resorted to a means of understanding Anan by asking a question uncharacteristic of him. Sugiko Minamibara had seen through that. But Anan answered.

“I’m happy.” “Then, Anan, was what you said about never getting married someday a lie?” “I hadn’t realized I could love you this much.” “Anan has found someone she loves in this world for the first time.” “Then, what do you think of the woman I’m involved with—my wife?” “If I were to meet her, I’d be jealous.” “Anan might resent her.” “But right now, I think your wife is a happy person.”

“Happy? But I don’t love my wife.” “But your wife believes she’s loved, doesn’t she?”

“I’m fulfilling my duties as a husband, you see.” “I end up deceiving my wife.” “In the parts unseen, you know.” “It can’t be helped.” “Pain.” “But the joy of being with Anan outweighs the pain.”

“The happiest one is Anan.”

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

Anan, why don't you ask Rokurō Nishina to marry you? I can't. Sugiko Minamibara. Sugiko Minamibara had no desire to marry Rokurō Nishina. Daily life—the habitual expressions of affection. That would surely grow tedious and tiresome. But that wasn't all. She would have to wear down her own sensibilities. Compromise was the most detestable act imaginable. Sugiko Minamibara considered most women in the world wretched creatures worthy of mockery. Including Rokurō Nishina's wife. Ah—Kazuko Hōrai. As for her—what exactly was the nature of her relationship with that husband of hers—

Sugiko Minamibara suddenly let out a laugh. “Anan, I have something I need to make clear to you.” “What is it?”

“It’s about Kazuko Hōrai.” “There’s nothing between me and her.” “We only had a single interaction a decade ago.” “I was terribly drunk.” “That’s all there was to it.”

Anan was startled. But it was something Sugiko Minamibara had already known. Sugiko Minamibara made Anan nod.

“It didn’t need to be said,” he said. “But I wanted to get it off my chest.” Rokurō Nishina found the intimacy between Kazuko Hōrai and Anan—who was actually Sugiko Minamibara—unnerving, and worried Kazuko might have revealed their secret. That’s why he’d recounted even that infamous cheek-slapping incident in such detail. Sugiko Minamibara thought him amusingly earnest. She glanced down at Kazuko Hōrai. Anan’s eyes sparkled.

“I’m glad—since you told me everything without hiding anything, Anan’s love won’t change one bit.”

“What do you think of Ms. Hōrai?” “I just think she’s a beautiful person.” “But handling truths leaves me speechless.” “Since you seem to be close with her, that didn’t feel very pleasant.” “But…” “Anan interprets it this way: I must acknowledge that your meeting with her preceded your meeting with Anan—that’s all.”

When the two parted at the station, rain began to fall. Today marked the first time they had spoken about love and all its clinging entanglements. Sugiko Minamibara found this deeply disagreeable. She considered words inconvenient things. She did not trust words. She did not trust actions either. When it came to love or romance, she believed they could not exist without the other party’s physical presence.

Anan—to worry and suffer for love isn’t foolish at all. I was the one who told Anan to fall in love. Through this creed of believing nothing, I can deny all jealousy, impatience, and suffering. Because when it comes to myself, I don’t trust myself one bit. I—Sugiko Minamibara—might be thoroughly steeped in hedonism, nihilism, and individualism—

Sugiko Minamibara began to assert to Anan.

Heh heh—Anan loves—loves Rokurō Nishina without end. And she worries—keeps worrying endlessly. Though I believe things with that man will end tragically—Anan stays steadfast—

—The part that is Anan keeps expanding— Anan’s worries are becoming a burden— If she were to worry even more and more, if she were to yearn even more and more—what would become of Sugiko Minamibara— —Quiet. Anan is in love with Rokurō Nishina. Clearly. Forcefully. Boldly—

7

Fair and accurate judgments rarely exist in this world. Particularly in dance competitions, severe factionalism prevailed, pushing aside what should have been recognized as splendid. In Mrs.Akabane’s case—a dancer with no Osaka connections and unknown to the judges—she still reached the semifinals. She did not win. Though the judges wrestled considerably among themselves, her newly devised step ultimately provoked resentment instead. Mrs.Akabane left the venue early with her partner, drank to vent her frustration, then went dancing at a cabaret. Fast-tempo jazz played. Mrs.Akabane immediately took to the dance floor with her partner. They began whirling round and round using the French hot step. Her long hair—not secured by a single pin—let its loosely curled ends tumble over shoulders and back. After several dance numbers, Mrs.Akabane’s eyes suddenly sparkled. A man dancing cheek-to-cheek with a long-gowned dancer. Kazuko Hōrai’s husband Kensuke. Quite drunk herself, Mrs.Akabane had been dancing near the stage when she winked at her partner, abruptly disentangled their hands, and climbed the spiral staircase leading upstage. Still wearing her competition attire—long blue dress and silver shoes—she bore an artificial rose at her chest marking her semifinalist status. She began singing “Someday Somewhere” at the microphone just as the next performance started. Though drunken patrons occasionally bellowed from stages before, this was likely unprecedented for a woman of her standing. The band played merrily on while dancers focused on Mrs.Akabane’s voice and figure. Had she mounted the stage to sing? No—she meant Kensuke Hōrai to acknowledge her existence.

After a while, he noticed. While exchanging brief words with the dancer, he kept dancing closer to the stage. Smiling coyly, she directed a coquettish look at Kensuke Hōrai. He grew perplexed. Even though he recognized Sugiko Minamibara, his preconception of her as a jazz singer clashed with this new impression until they became an irreconcilable jumble. When “Someday, Somewhere” ended, Mrs. Akabane shrugged slightly at the bandmaster and descended the spiral staircase. Her partner laughed. The two settled into chairs and lit cigarettes.

“So it really is you, Ms. Minamibara. I’m astonished.”

Kensuke Hōrai approached Mrs. Akabane, bringing a dancer with him. The partner was surprised.

The blue fluorescent lamp cast a bluish pallor across their faces. There were Sugiko Minamibara and Kensuke Hōrai.

“Mama, pour me another one.” A beer bottle frothing with white foam. Mrs. Akabane changed out of her costume and had completely become Sugiko Minamibara.

“Because I wanted to speak with you, I staged that little performance.”

“But that was quite a performance.”

Sugiko Minamibara might not be Sugiko Minamibara. She had transformed into a freshly coquettish woman.

“You have a beautiful wife and are the world’s happiest husband.” “Hard to say.” “You’re not the type to even consider cheating, are you?”

“I’ll leave that to your imagination.” “So… I wonder if she resented me today.” “You had a prior engagement, didn’t you?”

“I dislike promises, you know.” “Oh, me too.”

“By the way, my wife’s jealous of you—you know.” “Oh my—why ever would that be?” “It’s Roku-chan.” “How strange—when I’m the one who’s jealous.” “So—which one of us is getting in Roku-chan’s way?”

“That would be me. And then you too. But your wife—isn’t she being cruel toward Roku-chan’s feelings?” “Human thoughts are so tedious. The things they do are too.” “Don’t lie. You speak as if you’re a mere bystander, but given how popular your wife is, you must be secretly concerned deep down. Beautiful things are meant to be quietly tucked away, don’t you think?” “Heh. Just how many of my wife’s affair partners do you know?”

“Your wife would never cheat. If your wife were to cheat, I’d be heartbroken. I’m fond of your wife, you know.” “Are you some kind of pervert?”

“That might be true.” “If you were to cheat, I’d lament for your wife’s sake.” “But regardless, your wife is quite the popular one, isn’t she?”

“So does that make me happy?” “Pride!” “Ah, whatever. Either way. By the way—what would happen if you and I had an affair?” “Your wife is under the impression that you wouldn’t cheat. After all, she adores you—and what’s more, she’s quite confident that you love her back, you know.” “Wait a second. If I do that, it’s as if I’m being terribly insulted by my wife.”

“Why?” “Not cheating—doesn’t that make me less than human? While I’m the one who’s quick to cheat.” “See? You’re not just a bystander after all. Your most beloved person is your wife, isn’t she?” “I’ve somehow gotten all tangled up. Hey, instead of all that—can I have an affair with you?” “Then go ask your wife.”

They roared with laughter. Sugiko Minamibara found it amusing that she herself had spouted whatever came to mind, rambling on with nonsense.

By the last train, Sugiko Minamibara returned to her boarding house. She recalled her conversation with Kensuke Hōrai. He claimed to despise promises, yet forced upon her a promise to meet again. She specified that they meet three days later, and moreover at Karewara.

――Sugiko Minamibara. What on earth are you planning to do――

It was Anan’s solemn voice.

――Anan, be quiet. Please, just stay quiet――

Meanwhile, when Kensuke Hōrai returned home, Kazuko Hōrai was in the middle of her beauty regimen. She sat before the mirror, smeared the sticky substance all over her face, and made her skin stiff with solemn care.

“Hey.” “I had a rendezvous with your lover.”

“Oh really? With Sugi, huh? That was nice, wasn’t it?”

Kazuko Hōrai slowly pursed her lips before replying. “If I were to have an affair with her—would you get angry?” “Be my guest.” “But even if you fell for her—she’d never stoop to someone like you.”

Around the lower part of her cheeks, several cracks had formed. She began to forget she was in the middle of applying her beauty regimen.

“Alright, alright. Let’s make a bet—what’ll it be?”

“Well then, I’ll make you a suit.”

She, realizing she had to abandon her beauty regimen midway, turned back to the mirror and hurriedly wiped her face with a hand towel. “Then what the hell do you want?” “A pearl necklace. A choker would be nice.” “You let me have an affair, I get a suit—score!”

“You’ll fail to have your affair and end up handing me pearls—poor you.” “Oh my, but what about the proof?” “If I cheat, I’ll just say so.” “Shall I take your word for it? No, I’ll know just by looking at Sugi. Fine then.” Kazuko Hōrai kept a perpetually unmade bed. The sheets were a faded gray, and the quilt was frayed at every seam. Kensuke detested her for all this, but he no longer said a word. The house was filthy, and in the kitchen pot, the same contents had been left for a whole week. The weariness of married life filled the house. Kensuke kept only his own room tidy himself. He had brought in a bed. Sometimes, Kazuko came to Kensuke’s room. She seemed to occasionally attempt to feel pity for her husband. However, her husband did not notice that he was being pitied. And he responded to his wife solely through actions. That day, they slept separately—he upstairs, she downstairs. Kensuke found himself recalling Sugiko Minamibara’s words. She had stated that he loved his wife, and also stated that his wife truly loved him. Kensuke asked himself.

――As long as my "wife" remains my "wife" in society's eyes, I can rest easy――

And then, after tossing once, he was already asleep.

Eight

Twenty minutes before the appointed time, Sugiko Minamibara appeared at Karewara. She was waiting for Kensuke Hōrai. Kazuko Hōrai was speaking intimately with one of the customers but called out brightly in Sugiko Minamibara’s direction.

“Sugi! My—my—you look utterly transformed today!”

Sugiko Minamibara had her hair boldly curled and had applied her makeup with striking clarity and vividness. Instead of her usual straight-lined Western dress was a silk blouse with delicate embroidery at the collar. And she wore a finely pleated salmon-pink skirt. In her hand was a red handbag. From beneath white gloves peeked red manicure. “The other day I was treated to dinner by your husband Mr.Hōrai.”

“So I heard.” “Sugi, you must be busy, but do spare some time to entertain him, won’t you?”

Sugiko Minamibara took a seat near a table facing the river. She did not mention that this was a meeting with Kensuke Hōrai. Ordering a cold drink, she looked at the river. ――Rokurō Nishina looked terribly thin when I saw him yesterday. He wasn’t speaking much either, and Anan was worried―― ――Anan, is it wrong for me to have an affair with another man like this today?――

――Yes. Anan feels like she’s committing a sin—even if it’s Sugiko Minamibara who’s about to have this affair, Anan hates it—

“But I don’t love Kensuke Hōrai—you know?”

――Even so—no, you know what? I should leave before he arrives――

Sugiko Minamibara slightly raised her hips. But she lit another cigarette and composed herself. The door opened. Kensuke Hōrai entered. “Oh, thank you for the other day, Mr. Hōrai.” “Are you alone today?”

Kensuke Hōrai grimaced slightly. Out of consideration for his wife Kazuko. “It’s a coincidence, isn’t it?” “I’m alone too.”

Sugiko Minamibara grinned slyly.

“I just stopped by to take a peek.” “Hey, water.”

He ordered water from the girl. Kazuko Hōrai was laughing. He wondered if the two women were plotting something. Kazuko Hōrai’s customer left.

“Hey, how about the three of us—you, me, and Madam—go out for a drink?”

Before Sugiko Minamibara’s words had fully ended, “I have plans today, Sugi. Why don’t you keep him company?”

Was Kazuko Hōrai alone today? Kensuke Hōrai found himself fixated on Sugiko Minamibara’s question to him—whether Kazuko was alone today. After crossing the train tracks, Kensuke Hōrai and Sugiko Minamibara hailed a car. “Women are truly incomprehensible, huh?”

She laughed loudly. “But you didn’t tell your wife about our meeting, did you?”

“How did you know?” “Since your wife is the type to say everything she knows, she didn’t mention our meeting to me.”

“So this counts as a chance encounter now, does it?” “That’s right.”

Sugiko Minamibara’s right hand suddenly brushed against Kensuke Hōrai’s knee. To make it a deliberate act, she pressed the weight of her hand firmly against his knee once more.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” “I want you to meet this lovely woman I know.” “That’s intriguing.”

The car stopped just short of the downtown area.

The two entered an alleyway bar.

“Hiro-chan! You in?” From inside clattered out a fair-skinned girl with a sharply defined jawline, her zori sandals slapping against the floor. The komon-patterned silk draped perfectly about her.

“Oh, Ken-san! What terrible timing!”

He plopped down onto the corner sofa. Sugiko Minamibara also sat down next to him. “This lady’s a jazz singer,” he said.

Sugiko Minamibara smiled brightly at the girl who brought the match flame closer. “How about some beer?”

The girl headed toward the counter. There was a single group of patrons. Inside the counter, Madam was dispensing gracious smiles.

“Hiro-chan, how about it?” “That’s nice. It’s rare in Osaka—most women here are just sluggish and limp.” “Alright.” “I’ll assign the Adana label after observing a bit more.” With Hiro-chan as their companion, they drank and chatted. It wasn’t a significant conversation. However, the intimacy between the two increased. “What exactly about the Spot Girl attracts you?” While walking arm in arm along a slightly desolate street, Sugiko Minamibara asked Kensuke Hōrai. Spot Girl was the nickname she had bestowed upon Hiro-chan earlier. A single point. It meant that no lines were ever connected to it. Kensuke Hōrai didn’t understand what she meant, but he said the sound of the Adana she’d assigned was pleasant.

“Charm… The root of charm…”

“In other words, it’s because she’s a Spot.” “She hasn’t been touched by anyone.” “I see. I too find her untouchable.” “She’s a fine woman.”

Suddenly, Sugiko Minamibara came to an abrupt stop. “Hey—I’ve come to like you. Whether it’s proper or not, once I fall for someone, I love them fiercely.” Sugiko felt a peculiar joy in speaking words she didn’t truly mean. “You’re no Spot, are you?”

“Of course.” “And I’m not one of your Spots either.”

――How could I have been the one to initiate this temptation? A prostitute selling herself for money. Ashiya women who live solely for physical pleasure―they’ve made their peace with it, yet... But I―it wasn’t for money, nor carnal desire, and certainly not love. Another meaning… There must be meaning. But I don’t understand what emotional impulse that meaning stems from. Kensuke Hōrai 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 couldn’t return tonight because of an errand―― ――Even though Anan tried so hard to stop me―Sugiko Minamibara is terrible――

No—it was Anan who drove Sugiko Minamibara to this outcome. Precisely because she loved Nishina Rokurō—no—because Anan loved him—I had instead forced myself into deeper entanglement with Kensuke Hōrai. Why… Wait—Kazuko Hōrai. Hadn't I made any move toward her? That was what mattered most. I wanted to strip away the mask of feigned truth she showed me. I wanted to be subjected to her blatant jealousy and hatred— "Hey, you—are you planning to tell your wife about this?"

“Would it be wrong if I told her?” “Either way is fine.”

The two laughed. Kensuke Hōrai felt an unpleasant shudder run down his spine after laughing. “She’s an eerie woman,” he thought. “What if I were the one to tell her?” “You’ll get an earful from Roku-chan.” “What are you saying about your wife? Are you going to tell him that Sugi and the husband had an affair?” “Just what is your situation with Roku-chan?” “Asking ‘how’ is a foolish question.”

Calling it a foolish question wasn’t an answer. It was indeed an ambiguous phrase, yet being told “That’s a foolish question” made one conflate two meanings into a single certainty—a working of the subconscious. Sugiko Minamibara had often let that phrase slip from her lips. “Then were you lying when you said you loved me?”

“Because I love you, it’s true.”

“Do you love two people at the same time?”

“Three people.” “Your wife too.” “But that means you’ve betrayed someone, doesn’t it?” “In other words—Roku-chan, my wife, or me.” “Isn’t this an act of betrayal?” “Why this ‘betrayal, betrayal’ talk?”

“You’re being rather odd,” Kensuke Hōrai pressed. “Let’s say you and Roku-chan were madly in love. If he then got involved with someone else—say, even my wife—wouldn’t that count as betrayal? You’d seethe with jealousy, wouldn’t you?” “Oh, it’s not betrayal,” Sugiko Minamibara countered, her voice cool. “And I don’t seethe. If we’re entertaining hypotheticals—” She paused deliberately. “Jealousy only flares when the anchors of affection go slack. Actions like that—” Her fingers brushed imaginary lint from her sleeve. “—interactions with outsiders prove nothing about love’s foundations.”

“Then according to you, out of the three—me, Roku-chan, and my wife—only one person actually has your love. Doesn’t that mean the other two are left without any affection?” “You’ve mistaken my metaphor for my reality. In my current situation, I don’t acknowledge any points of emotional connection with any of the three. Even if I like someone, they don’t love me back, you see. You’re a strange one—you don’t consider your fondness for the spotlight to be a betrayal of your wife, and getting involved with me like this doesn’t create any conflict in your heart, does it? Is it because you have definite points of emotional connection with your wife, or because—like me—you don’t acknowledge receiving love from anyone? It must be one or the other. It’s 100% the former.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.” “I know something you don’t grasp.” “Is it about me loving three people?” “There’s no law forbidding affection beyond one person.” “And I see straight through your heart.” “You treat every woman except your wife as physical playthings—spotlights still beyond your grasp now, but you’ll chase them soon enough, then tire just as fast. I see through it all.”

“Whatever—let’s drop this logical wrangling.”

Kensuke Hōrai had no choice but to fall silent.

“Humans try to cut through what can’t be cut. “Strange, isn’t it?”

Sugiko Minamibara, too, no longer wanted to voice any more logical arguments. She was jolted by how Anan had begun to writhe incessantly.

Anan, I'm looking forward to the momentous event lying in wait in the future. Everything until I reach that point—I merely acknowledge it all as a means.

“Hey, does me liking you bother you?”

“Not really—I like you too, you know.” “Then that’s fine—isn’t it?” “What?”

“No—well then, will you meet me often?” “That’s precisely what I desire.” “Then that’s even better.” “But you’ll be in trouble—you have to meet Roku-chan too.” “You have your spotlights and that dancer from the other day—oh, it’s the same old story repeating itself. As long as we don’t get in each other’s way.”

The two of them exchanged company phone numbers and parted ways. It was ten in the morning.

After parting ways, Kensuke Hōrai felt a truly peculiar sensation.

Sugiko Minamibara. What on earth was she? There was a kind of allure in things he couldn't understand. And until he understood, there was also anxiety. In any case, the night’s indulgence had been indulgence. He headed to the company.

Sugiko Minamibara left her clothes as they were, only styling her hair in her usual updo, and headed to the company.

In the evening, when freed from work, she hurried to the broadcasting company. She wanted to see Rokurō Nishina. It was to confirm her love for him. At reception, she asked for him by name. A two-day leave. Yesterday and today. She went to the dance hall. His illness—likely a sick leave—seemed grave. While teaching dance, something felt intensely irritating. She withdrew early to her boarding house.

Sugiko Minamibara went 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 stacked bedding and suddenly burst into tears.

Anan, I'm sorry. Anan, please forgive me. But what happened was Anan made me do it. It was the existence of Anan's beloved Rokurō Nishina that made me do it—

Was it Sugiko Minamibara who shed the tears? No, it was Anan who shed the tears. Poor Anan. Why did I end up that way with Kensuke Hōrai? Anan blames me; she grieves. Anan lives solely through Rokurō Nishina. The body of Sugiko Minamibara in which Anan resides. That is, of course, a temporary thing. But once Anan has taken residence, I don’t want to let her be touched by any man other than Rokurō Nishina—

Anan shook Sugiko Minamibara’s body. Violently. Sugiko Minamibara tried to resist Anan. Anan, just let me stay free a little longer—I won’t taint your purity. I don’t love Kensuke Hōrai—

—I won’t forgive you. I can’t forgive you—

She continued crying.

Kensuke Hōrai appeared before Kazuko Hōrai still carrying whatever inexplicable burden he bore. As always, it was a place unworthy of being called a home—a space choked with grimy, stagnant air.

“Did you enjoy yourself yesterday?” “So, did your wish come true?” “Judging from where you stayed overnight, I suppose I ended up buying the suit after all.”

She had not slept a wink all last night.

“Nah, unfinished business—last night I met a friend from my army days.” “How unfortunate for you.” The moment Kensuke Hōrai saw his wife, he had resolved never to speak of the affair. He ate his late dinner in sullen silence. Kazuko Hōrai was exceptionally cheerful. It was because she had believed her husband’s words.

“Let’s not set a deadline for the bet—we’ll make it one month.”

Kensuke Hōrai remained silent.

That night, in his second-floor room, Kazuko Hōrai appeared. Terribly, gently.

Nine

“It seems I’m pregnant.”

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

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

Rokurō Nishina muttered quietly after a moment. He had wanted a child. But recently he had lost all interest in children.

“I want you to get well soon.” Takako interpreted his contracting influenza as proof that his body had already been weakened under normal circumstances. She did not suspect her husband. The distance between husband and wife had somehow grown wider.

“I wonder what time it is now.” “It’s past two.” Rokurō Nishina closed his eyes again. “You were delirious, you know.”

“What?” “I didn’t quite understand it, but it must have been about your work. I called the company this morning.”

“I see.”

Anan floated within Rokurō Nishina’s eyes. In the dream, he had been listening to Debussy—Anan was playing the piano. He was standing behind her. Suddenly, she stilled her hands. However, the piano kept playing. “Isn’t it strange?” she laughed. And then, she tried to flee somewhere from beside the piano. He tried to chase after her. Suddenly, she covered her face with both hands and began to cry. When he drew near, she said, “Don’t torment me.”—

Rokurō Nishina felt uneasy about having seen Anan crying in his dream—despite never having witnessed her cry in reality.

“Hey… Which do you think it’ll be? A boy or a girl?” “Which do you prefer?” “I want a girl.”

“Why?” “Because I’m glad I was born a woman.” Rokurō Nishina opened his eyes clearly and looked at Takako’s face. “See? Don’t I look happy?”

Rokurō Nishina could not accept those words straightforwardly.

“I feel sorry for you.” “My job keeps me out late—I drink too much anyway—and my pay’s lousy on top of it all.”

He then averted his gaze from Takako’s face. “Such things...” “I care about you—you’re the one who matters.”

Rokurō Nishina pinched Takako’s hand with a childlike clinginess.

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

After Takako went to the kitchen, Rokurō Nishina 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 was saying to Anan. I may not love Takako, but we were living as husband and wife. I felt guilty toward Anan about that. I didn’t think to ask Takako for forgiveness—

Sugiko Minamibara hung up the receiver. Rokurō Nishina was still resting. She sat down in the chair at her company desk and, while smoking a cigarette, tried to veil the Anan that had surfaced within her with smoke. At that moment, another telephone on the desk rang.

“Ms. Minamibara, you have a phone call.”

She approached the telephone with a scrap of paper and a pencil.

“This is Minamibara.”

“This is Kensuke Hōrai.” “Oh. It’s you.”

“Why haven’t you called?” “You haven’t called me either. I was waiting.” “Is there any room in your life today for me to slip in?” “There is.” “Tch.” “Six o’clock.” “At Karewara.” “No—Umeda. You know, the basement of that new building.” “Got it.”

Sugiko Minamibara hung up the receiver with a clatter. Anan let out a pitiful scream.

“It’s strange,” he said. “I’ve started feeling like my entire perspective on women might be overturned.” Kensuke Hōrai found himself unable to keep Sugiko Minamibara confined to two-hour encounters anymore. Before, he would decisively end things after two hours and approach the next new woman with unencumbered ease. If he happened to meet a woman he’d parted with again by chance, he could still feel that spark of freshness when they reunited. Yet after one night with Sugiko Minamibara, he could no longer dispose of her as effortlessly as he had with others.

“Why did you make me meet the spot girl?”

After laughing for a while, Sugiko Minamibara suddenly changed the subject.

“There’s no deep meaning to it, though.” “Well then, I’ll just forget about the spot girl.” “Because things have gotten a bit too complicated.” “What has?”

Sugiko Minamibara did not answer. She thought that Kensuke Hōrai being just Kazuko Hōrai’s husband was enough. “By the way, is there any hope of making what’s between you and me last forever?”

“Lasting? But you don’t really love me that deeply, do you?” “Do you think you’ve offered your body to someone who isn’t even loved?” “That’s right.” “But since I like you, I don’t regret it.” “I don’t know how long it can last, though.” “Aren’t you going to say you want me to love you?” “I won’t say it, but I do think it.” “I shouldn’t be able to say it.” “I might be in love, you know. I might even duel Roku-chan.”

“Stop it.” Sugiko Minamibara deliberately stated coldly. She thought responding to jokes with jokes would be tedious. Moreover, Sugiko Minamibara felt a pang of sorrow that Nishina Rokurō’s name had been introduced into this atmosphere. The part of her that was Anan had already expanded significantly. Kensuke Hōrai was startled to see Sugiko Minamibara’s expression.

She might actually be serious. If I’m not careful, instead of me imposing Mrs. Hōrai’s position on my wife, might I not end up being forced by my wife to take Mr. Hōrai’s position instead? Sugiko Minamibara was acting out of pure egoism in her own actions— “Then I lose, huh?” Kensuke Hōrai had meant it as a contest with Sugiko Minamibara. However, Sugiko Minamibara took it as a contest between Rokurō Nishina and Kensuke Hōrai. So she laughed in amusement at the words declaring his defeat. Kensuke Hōrai thought it was an eerie laugh.

She didn’t stay over that day.

Sugiko Minamibara smoked cigarettes excessively on the second floor of her lodging. I felt resistance—Anan made me feel that resistance—and within that ecstatic state, Rokurō Nishina was undeniably present. He wore a terribly solemn expression. That was a delightful discovery for me—

—What am I saying? It’s like I’m bullying Anan. Anan wants to see Rokurō Nishina soon. When we meet, Anan will confess about Kensuke Hōrai and Sugiko Minamibara— No— That won’t do. But until I meet Rokurō Nishina, I won’t see Kensuke Hōrai—

—Sugiko Minamibara. You are a foolish woman—

―Anan, I might truly be a foolish woman― Kazuko Hōrai, who had begun waiting for Kensuke Hōrai’s return with genuine anticipation, pounded the piano and sang at the top of her voice. Sugiko Minamibara and Rokurō Nishina did not show their faces at Karewara. She, who could never be satisfied unless she remained at the center of attention, grew concerned about her husband’s behavior alongside the continued silence from those two. She began to panic so much that even she found it absurd. She was boycotted by three people. In her heart, resentment toward Sugiko Minamibara already existed.

Kensuke Hōrai returned on the last train. He remained silent. Kazuko Hōrai, for her part, found herself unable to mention Sugiko Minamibara. While cheerfully helping her husband change clothes, her insides churned with violent turmoil. For the first time, Kazuko Hōrai felt what it meant to harbor a chaste wife's emotions.

10

Rokurō Nishina returned to work on a Wednesday, his first time in a week. He called Anan from a coffee shop, and Anan, holding the prepared script, immediately headed to that coffee shop. Anan had intended to tell Rokurō Nishina about Sugiko Minamibara. But the moment she saw his face, the words caught in her throat. What they discussed was nothing more than the joy of meeting. And at 7:00 p.m. that day, the two of them met again. They said nothing. The embrace buried all awkwardness. Anan had completely forgotten about both Sugiko Minamibara and, subsequently, Kensuke Hōrai. So, while clinging to Rokurō Nishina’s chest, she felt no self-reproach. Anan was drunk. Rokurō Nishina had also forgotten that he had a wife. That he had ever felt guilty toward Anan was now merely a truth of the past.

Anan began to come alive, as if transformed. Rokurō Nishina too, after regaining his health and becoming clearly aware of his amorous exchange with Anan, began living days filled with joy. He no longer felt any anguish in his married life with his wife Takako. While always picturing Anan, he had come to feel no resistance in facing Takako. Sugiko Minamibara occasionally met with Kensuke Hōrai as well. And while indulging in nights of pleasure together, she could in those moments erase Anan. In other words, it was through the relationship between Sugiko Minamibara and Kensuke Hōrai that Anan could believe her love with Rokurō Nishina to be absolute.

Kensuke Hōrai admitted his love for Sugiko Minamibara. Yet even as he acknowledged this, he kept Mr. Hōrai in mind. Occasionally—unlike with hostesses or dancers—he sensed in Sugiko Minamibara an engaging conversational charm, a freshness and youthfulness absent from his wife Kazuko, and murmured inwardly that he’d encountered an extraordinary woman. His love resided solely in carnal desire. He saw no need to dissect Sugiko Minamibara through forced analysis. Though she unnerved him, he felt irresistibly drawn. He would tire of her eventually. That was all.

Kazuko Hōrai alone irritably spent her days while the three others immersed themselves in human joys. Husband, Sugi, Roku-chan. It was all because they had distanced themselves from her.

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

“Why did you stop coming?” “I was sick in bed.” “And I’ve been swamped with work.”

“Sugi isn’t coming either.” “Why isn’t Sugi coming?”

“It’s not something I’d know just because you ask me.” “You’re meeting Sugi, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” She thought she’d asked an idiotic question. Then, acutely aware of being treated like an intruder, she began trembling with fury. “I’m not here to lecture you about Sugi at all—I happen to like her myself. I want Sugi to come. I want to see Sugi.” “Then tell her yourself.”

“Yes, I certainly will tell her.” Kazuko Hōrai opened her handbag, thrust bills along with receipts onto the counter, then left the coffee shop without even greeting Rokurō Nishina. She had no time to consider the cause of her own agitation. And she immediately headed to Sugiko Minamibara’s office. However, when she reached the front of the office and felt that visiting Sugiko Minamibara would be an extremely humiliating act, she promptly turned around and returned to Karewara.

――If I were going to be insulted by Sugi, then submitting to my husband would be preferable――

She resolved that tonight, she would try asking Kensuke about Sugiko Minamibara.

However, when she opened the door to Karewara, a cheerful voice called out from inside.

“Long time no see. I’m sorry.”

It was Sugiko Minamibara. “Oh my, it’s been ages, Ms. Minamibara. What have you been keeping yourself occupied with?” Her words still carried their usual veneer of sincerity, but her expression now bore unconcealable hostility.

“Things have just been so hectic.” “It’s been over two weeks, hasn’t it?” “I’m sorry.”

“I was worried.” Kazuko Hōrai feared Sugiko Minamibara might detect her agitation. Then, forcing herself to sound cheerful,

“My husband, you see... It seems he’s even gotten under your skin.” “Oh, what nonsense! There was a time when your husband couldn’t stop gushing about you.”

Sugiko Minamibara knew Kensuke Hōrai was keeping secrets from his wife. Kazuko Hōrai grew irritated, feeling mocked by this younger woman. "I dropped by Roku-chan's earlier." "Roku-chan's utterly smitten with you, isn't he?" "It was obvious at a glance." "You've even got my husband wrapped around your finger—quite the enchantress, aren't you?"

Sugiko Minamibara found it amusing that Kazuko Hōrai kept observing her. “Hey, what do you think of my husband?” “He’s a good man, a fine husband—you make a wonderful couple.” “Do you think so? I’ve always thought Roku-chan and his wife make such a wonderful couple.” “He’s a devoted husband.”

Sugiko Minamibara was amiable.

“Aren’t you jealous?” Sugiko Minamibara kept laughing without answering. She did not know Rokurō Nishina’s wife. She did not even try to know. She had never made his wife an issue. Anan thought it better not to know—if she ever met his wife, she would feel jealous, and ignorance would spare her that pain.

“But you’re such a remarkable person.” “What draws people to you is your instincts.” At that moment, Sugiko Minamibara suddenly conceived a mischievous idea.

“Why don’t we all have a drink together sometime—you and your husband?”

To this, Kazuko Hōrai was in full agreement. They couldn’t set a date yet but promised to do so soon. Kazuko Hōrai felt that her husband’s infidelity had not been fully consummated. And then she truly became cheerful.

That night, Rokurō Nishina and Anan began chatting more than usual while drinking whiskey.

“Anan believes intuition is crucial when playing the piano.” “Intuition isn’t the same as gut feeling—it’s something you can’t perceive without a certain degree of understanding.” “Anan has relied far too much on her own senses until now.” “I have confidence in my senses.” “But Anan realized it’s dangerous to judge things based solely on senses.” “If Anan were to remain as she was before, processing things sensually, your love wouldn’t last.” “Because Anan could intuit you, she was able to attain happiness.” “Occasionally, Anan finds that lonely.” “But knowing you and being able to stay with you like this…” “Anan can’t put this into words—Anan will try composing it instead.”

“Anan, thank you. I am happy.”

Rokurō Nishina forcefully spoke before Anan’s words had even finished. “Anan, I’m the one who’s happy.” “Our world might be one that only we can comprehend.” “It’s a world that exists solely between us.” “Let’s both cherish this world of ours.”

Anan nodded deeply. She tried to pose a question to Rokurō Nishina. However, sensing Sugiko Minamibara’s influence at work, she swallowed the words. The question was whether their shared world could exist independent of physicality. If they severed their bodily connection now, would that world remain steady? That was the dilemma.

In the second-floor room of her boarding house, Sugiko Minamibara stayed up through the night.

Anan’s love could exist without relying on Sugiko Minamibara’s physical body. But she hated proposing such a thing. Anan was just too pitiful—

――Because I want to hear Rokurō Nishina’s response―― ――Please stop this. No matter what his answer might be, Anan would be wretched――

Anan beseeched.

―Please sever my relationship with Kensuke Hōrai. What I gained from my relationship with him was significant. In other words—the world of Anan and Rokurō Nishina was absolute. I obtained confirmation. Since I came to understand that—there’s no longer any need for Kensuke Hōrai—

―Anan, but I only became interested in Kensuke Hōrai because Kazuko Hōrai existed. Her truth, her mystique. The foundation of her confidence—I still haven't grasped any of it. Of course, there's no question that confirming Anan and Rokurō Nishina's mutual affection had been a far greater discovery than all that― ―How pitiful Anan is. That there are times when Anan must be erased—and not during work hours. During moments of indulgence―

Sugiko Minamibara could no longer refuse Anan’s proposal. Sugiko Minamibara was left stunned. Anan had become her everything. And all of Anan was none other than Rokurō Nishina. The Hōrai couple did not exist.

That night—the very same night—Kensuke Hōrai and his wife were deep in conversation.

“Sugi and you have nothing going on, right? Well now, you must buy me pearls. But there’s still a week left before the one-month period—oh right! Sugi did say we should all drink together once. The three of us. Let’s hold a grand banquet next Saturday. We’ll reserve Karewara entirely starting around seven—oh yes, let’s invite Roku-chan and his wife too.”

Kazuko Hōrai was in high spirits. She was, after all, Kensuke Hōrai’s wife. Kensuke Hōrai had ended up in the position of deceiving his wife.

――At this late stage, I couldn't admit to having had an affair. I needed to buy her pearls. But it was a cheap price. She seemed about to become mine alone now. She made a surprisingly good wife. Still—would Saturday turn into something dreadful?

“Hey, you—I’ll buy you a new suit. It must’ve been so hard not being able to have your affair.” In truth, that night Kazuko Hōrai tidied the rooms, prepared a feast, and waited for her husband’s return. Feeling secure and trusting, she clearly realized she loved her husband and delighted in this discovery. “Listen—I’ve decided to close Karewara.” “After resting awhile at home, I’ll take on more students for lessons.” “They say it’s just the right time now.”

Kensuke Hōrai gave a wry smile. He thought his wife Kazuko seemed cuter than ever before. But he didn't particularly feel like having an affair anymore.

“Hey, come here.”

As he went upstairs, he called out to Kazuko Hōrai. ―Forgive me, you. I’ve had countless affairs until now, but I never loved anyone—it was only the joy of knowing my young and beautiful self―

While pressing her husband Kensuke’s suit, Kazuko Hōrai murmured in her heart.

Eleven

Kensuke Hōrai felt he needed to meet Sugiko Minamibara before Saturday night arrived. He called. Sugiko Minamibara was out. He called again. She was still out. "Please have her call me," he left word. But no call came. He called once more. By then he already sensed their relationship had met its end.

Three or four days passed. Kazuko Hōrai made a special trip to Sugiko Minamibara’s company to inform her about the invitation. Sugiko Minamibara reluctantly smiled at the amiable Kazuko Hōrai.

“My husband, you know—he’s been moping ever since you dumped him. I just feel so terribly sorry that I’ve decided to make amends from now on.” “I’ve decided 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?” “I’m being completely honest with you.” “That’s why I plan to invite you this Saturday.”

Sugiko Minamibara felt neither resistance nor doubt toward those deceptively sincere expressions and words delivered in Kazuko’s characteristic manner. Moreover, though she had actually hoped Kazuko Hōrai would drench her in venomous words, she didn’t feel the slightest disappointment when this expectation went unfulfilled. Kazuko Hōrai had undergone a psychological shift regardless—that much was clear. It must have been the result of my presence—of Sugiko Minamibara’s relationship with Kensuke Hōrai. I’d lost all interest in this couple now. No—more accurately, it was because Anan had completely eclipsed Sugiko Minamibara—

Kazuko Hōrai announced that Rokurō Nishina would also be invited. Yet she did not mention inviting Mrs. Nishina. “Please be the one to tell Roku-chan—by all means, have him come to Karewara at seven.” Kazuko Hōrai still harbored nothing but hatred toward Sugiko Minamibara within herself. And on Saturday, she imagined Sugiko Minamibara in a flustered state. For Kazuko Hōrai had come to acknowledge the romance between Sugiko Minamibara and Rokurō Nishina. And she had wanted to demonstrate to Sugiko Minamibara that marital bonds were unexpectedly resilient and unshakable. She had envisioned Sugiko Minamibara’s jealousy while observing the Nishina couple.

Anan, who had met with Rokurō Nishina, spoke about the invitation for Saturday.

“I detest being near you where others can see.” “Though I don’t want to go, I suppose I must.” “Anan needs to wear a mask—how tragic that Anan must entomb herself for this occasion.” “I’ve no desire to go either.” “Yet we must endure it—if our bond is to last, we can’t reveal our true selves before others.” “Let’s go regardless.” “Anan—you’ve never met Mr. Hōrai, have you?” “He’s decent enough.”

In that moment, Sugiko Minamibara came to the surface.

“I’ve had the chance to meet him once or twice at Karewara.”

It was a subdued voice. Anan wanted to say something. A confession. But Sugiko Minamibara desperately held it back. Kensuke Hōrai realized Saturday was finally arriving the next day. But he no longer worried. What could Sugiko Minamibara possibly say? Not when she was right there before Rokurō Nishina. Still, the phone’s silence grated on his nerves. Well, fine—an end would come eventually anyway.

Saturday came. Takako Nishina received an express letter from the mailbox. This was after Rokurō Nishina had left for work.

“I must apologize for intruding so suddenly the other day. Now then, I wish to extend a modest invitation for this coming Saturday evening at seven, and I earnestly hope you will kindly attend by all means. As this was decided on short notice, I am aware you may have prior engagements, but I most sincerely entreat you to attend. I will kindly extend an invitation by telephone to your husband.”

A map of Karewara was enclosed. Takako found it suspicious. This letter had been written yesterday evening. The postmark showed six o’clock. In that case, she reasoned, all that was needed was a phone invitation to her husband Rokurō requesting them both to attend. She considered calling her husband to ask. Yet she sensed something dubious lurking behind her husband—and behind Kazuko Hōrai too. After entrusting the house to her neighbor’s younger sister, she abruptly resolved to visit Karewara. She knew only that Kazuko Hōrai was a wealthy wife from Ashiya who practiced vocal music. Thus this marked her first awareness of a coffee shop bearing such an odd name as Karewara. Suspicion swelled within her. Still, she believed accepting the invitation would make everything instantly comprehensible. That afternoon, Takako Nishina—who had hurried to the beauty parlor for a set hairstyle, retrieved a summer-weight silk kimono from the chest, and adjusted her undergarment’s collar—found herself fully immersed in the mindset of going out.

Karewara put up a sign announcing it was closed for the day. Kazuko Hōrai wore a black chiffon velvet dress and the pearl necklace her husband had bought for her the day before. She had a girl help make canapés and ordered drinks and other delicacies. She had the piano moved out from the back room and rearranged the furniture in a way unbefitting a café. She arranged crimson roses in a vase filled to the brim. These were ones Sugiko Minamibara had delivered from the florist that morning. Kazuko Hōrai considered today’s gathering to be an extremely entertaining affair. And she thought she could be the center. She believed that guests would certainly gather. Having made all her preparations, she sat before the piano and began singing while tentatively plinking the keys, gradually growing entranced within the lavishly decorated room. She remembered herself in the mirror she had glimpsed earlier.

Just like Mrs. Simpson—so refined.

Sugiko Minamibara fastened a golden-brown taffeta dress on the second floor of her boarding house. Her hair was pulled back and tied into a rounded shape at the nape, lending her usual style a slightly chic edge. She put on large semicircular mabe pearl earrings and a golden-brown bracelet. Tilting the mirror at an angle, she examined her reflection—the trim waist, the Freyer skirt swaying gently with its fine striped pattern glimmering beneath. Over this, she draped a white wool lace-knit cape and descended the stairs clutching gold shoes and a handbag. The clock had long since passed six-thirty. Taking a car now would make her forty minutes late. She stepped out onto the broad avenue. After waiting about five minutes, an empty taxi pulled up beside her. Once inside, she opened her handbag and dabbed the forgotten perfume behind her ears. This perfume alone belonged to Anan—Anan’s scent. She cradled the small bottle in both hands. Its fragrance was faint, destined to vanish quickly. She always applied it before meeting Rokurō Nishina—a scent that disappeared when they parted ways. She knew from French novels how often such perfumes led to tragedy.

Anan—today is Anan—stay still now, okay? Instead, Sugiko Minamibara’s body had now truly become entirely Anan’s. Today, I’ll bid Kensuke Hōrai farewell in silence. Even if I were added to his collection of women, I wouldn’t feel insulted. That’s easier—

――Anan is so terribly sad today. But she’s enduring it quietly. For Rokurō Nishina’s sake—

Poor Anan— She let a single tear spill down. The car approached the bustling district.

12

The first guest to appear at Karewara was Takako Nishina. “Oh, you’ve come! Thank you.” “I’m so glad.” “Please have a seat. Oh, what a lovely outfit!” “The maroon suits you so well.”

Takako Nishina panicked.

“Has my husband arrived yet?”

“Oh, he’ll be here any moment now. Come along.”

At that moment, Kensuke Hōrai and Rokurō Nishina entered together. Friendship between men was a splendid thing. On the street, Kensuke Hōrai—who had encountered Rokurō Nishina—spoke of the day’s expectations as they walked.

“That wife of mine invited your missus too.”

Rokurō Nishina flinched for an instant. “Honestly, my wife remains so childish no matter how much time passes.”

Rokurō Nishina thanked Kensuke Hōrai in his heart. He prayed that it would end without incident. Anan is pitiable. I must be kind to Takako because—

“Well, let’s drink heartily.” “A wife’s hospitality is something to be grateful for.” Kensuke Hōrai could accurately infer Rokurō Nishina’s feelings. He was worldly-wise. And he was a coward. He disliked conflict. That’s why he showed kindness to Rokurō Nishina.

Rokurō Nishina smiled warmly at his wife Takako. He was relieved that Anan hadn’t arrived yet. “You’re playing a prank, aren’t you? Ms. Hōrai should have invited us together from the start.”

Rokurō Nishina sat down beside Takako. Kazuko Hōrai had immediately noticed what her husband had said.

“I plotted this to surprise you. I’m sorry.”

Kensuke Hōrai said in a loud voice while looking at the name cards tied to rose branches. “Hasn’t the woman who dumped me arrived yet?” “Sugi should be coming. She’s coming late on purpose, I suppose.”

Kazuko Hōrai answered while opening the beer bottle. “Who is Sugi?”

Takako Nishina whispered to her husband in a hushed voice. “Oh my, you didn’t know?” “Ms. Sugiko Minamibara is such a lovely person.” “You’re bound to take a liking to her, I’m sure.”

Having caught Takako’s question, Kazuko Hōrai answered cheerfully. “She’s someone who works in broadcasting.” Rokurō Nishina said to Takako. My husband has no interest in her whatsoever, and he doesn’t hold any particular affection for Kazuko Hōrai either. She’s beautiful, but she’s older, and the couple seems so happy together— Takako sent a smile toward her husband Rokurō.

The four of them toasted with beer.

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

Kazuko Hōrai interjected again.

“Ms. Minamibara，what are you doing? You can’t get the champagne open，can you?” Kensuke Hōrai deliberately said again in a loud voice. However，he thought it would be better if Sugiko Minamibara didn’t come.

Given who she was, she probably wouldn’t bat an eye at appearing before two married couples. From my very first encounter with her, she was all theatrics. But since even just the four of us had already formed rather complicated relationships, if she—with her even more troublesome connections—were to appear here now… That wouldn’t be ideal—

He had concluded that he should completely sever his relationship with Sugiko Minamibara. However, he had no intention of giving up philandering. He had thought that having an affair with a woman his wife knew was dangerous.

While Kazuko Hōrai chattered away to prevent the atmosphere from becoming strained, in truth, her words were all calculated to draw attention to herself.

“Shall I recount the tale of these pearls?”

She whispered to Takako Nishina. “Mrs. Takako, my wife is quite a wife. “She said if I cheated, she’d buy me a suit, but since I couldn’t, I was made to buy pearls instead. “The other party is Ms. Minamibara, who should be appearing any moment now. “I can’t cheat. “I’m made to buy pearls. “It’s a disaster.”

Kensuke Hōrai said with a laugh. Takako thought the couple before her was strange. Rokurō Nishina was extremely displeased. But he thought he had to feign cheerfulness.

“Takako. What would you do if I had an affair?”

“I don’t like that—don’t say such things.” “Mrs. Takako, there’s no need for concern.” “Roku-chan is absolutely reliable.” “I’ll personally vouch for him!”

Takako laughed genuinely. Kazuko Hōrai smiled leisurely. She wanted to be trusted by everyone and deferred to by all.

There’s no need for concern. I won’t spill the beans—

She glanced briefly toward Rokurō Nishina. And she felt intensely superior. Outside came the sound of a car stopping. Instantly, an eerie tension welled up among the four.

――Anan, forgive me. Please endure— What expression will Sugi make? On this day of all days, she probably can’t face me—

At last，Sugiko Minamibara arrived. It would work out somehow. But I was nervous— What kind of person was she? She seemed beautiful，but... someone my husband had kept hidden from me until now. A person my husband surely had absolutely no interest in—but—

The door opened.

“I’ve been waiting.” “You’re late.” “Mrs. Nishina is here too.”

It was Kensuke Hōrai. He approached the entrance faster than anyone else, almost at the moment the door opened. Kazuko Hōrai's gaze. The kimono-clad woman stared this way as if about to pounce. Rokurō Nishina was looking down.

The moment Sugiko Minamibara stepped out of the car—as if she had buried Anan—she felt a violent throbbing in her chest. Kensuke Hōrai turned his back toward the inner part of the room and shielded Sugiko Minamibara for a brief while. It was his affection.

“Come on, hurry up! It’s already started!”

Sugiko Minamibara first gave Kensuke Hōrai a glance that conveyed mutual understanding without words, then entered the back room with proper posture. Until then, Kazuko Hōrai—who had abandoned her usual loquacity—rose to her feet,

“Sugi. Why were you late? Come now—Mrs. Roku-chan’s here.” Kazuko Hōrai interpreted her husband’s kindly behavior toward Sugiko Minamibara as carrying some hidden meaning. And she unconsciously clutched her pearl necklace. “Minamibara here.”

Takako Nishina stood up and bowed quietly. Sugiko Minamibara did not look at Takako Nishina. Nor did she look at Rokurō Nishina beside her. “Ms. Minamibara.”

Kensuke Hōrai vigorously poured the champagne and was first to hand the cut glass to her. She took it in hand and sat down in an empty chair. It was the central sofa, squarely in the line of sight of all four pairs of eyes. Sugiko Minamibara’s hand was trembling slightly. Kensuke Hōrai poured champagne to the brim and, even after finishing, remained in that posture for a while, waiting for Sugiko Minamibara to settle.

“Hey, put on a record.” Kazuko Hōrai praised Sugiko Minamibara’s attire as she approached the phonograph. “Jazz would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“Put on ‘Somewhere, Someday.’” “Oh? Do you have memories of it?”

At that moment, Sugiko Minamibara had distinctly become Sugiko Minamibara. “I have memories with your husband. We met when I was singing in the hall.” Rokurō Nishina looked at Sugiko Minamibara with a startled expression. “You see... I went dancing with my partner and got so drunk that I ended up on stage.”

“Somewhere, Someday” began to play.

“Ms. Minamibara, would you dance with me?” “No, I’ll dance with your wife.” Sugiko Minamibara smirked sharply toward Kensuke Hōrai. “Sugi, I’m so glad you’ll dance with me.”

Sugiko Minamibara held Kazuko Hōrai in her arms. And now, she felt nothing toward her body.

“Takako-san, isn’t this amusing? Those two—won’t you dance too?”

“I don’t know anything about it.”

Kazuko Hōrai, who was dancing, suddenly stiffened. Sugiko Minamibara and herself. She realized her confidence was crumbling. “You must be tired. Let’s stop.” Sugiko Minamibara solicitously seated Kazuko Hōrai in a chair. As the five of them drank sake and ate the feast, the tension between them began to dissolve. However, at this juncture, the dissolving of tensions was an extremely dangerous thing. Sugiko Minamibara drank heartily. But she remained acutely aware of being Sugiko Minamibara. Takako Nishina became intoxicated by an atmosphere she had never experienced before. And she came to believe Rokurō Nishina was the best husband in the world.

Kensuke Hōrai was relieved, as it seemed things would end without incident. He thought about asking Sugiko Minamibara to continue their relationship. She was that beautiful. Kazuko Hōrai began to grow irritated. And she began fidgeting with her pearl necklace incessantly.

If one truly had an affair, one couldn’t possibly admit to having done so. I wonder if something happened between my husband and Sugi. But she must love Rokurō Nishina—no, perhaps she’s pretending to love him to hide something with my husband—

Kazuko Hōrai looked back and forth between Rokurō Nishina and her husband Kensuke. Kensuke Hōrai was the more impressive of the two. She was torn between joy and unease, unable to settle on either.

“Roku-chan.” “You’re being awfully quiet.” “It’s perfectly fine to gush about your wife here.”

Takako Nishina looked down, seemingly shy yet happy. She was a good woman. “When it comes to you,” Kensuke Hōrai said with a laugh, “do you think gushing about your spouse is something to do in public?” “Hey you,” Kazuko Hōrai continued. “But seeing such a young married couple makes me envious, doesn’t it?” “Oh please,” Sugiko Minamibara retorted. “Madam, you must believe yourself to be quite young.”

That was Sugiko Minamibara’s sharp remark. “Why, I’m far older than you.”

“Youth can’t be measured by age alone.” “Then by what?” “Because there’s such a thing as the human spirit.” “People stay young even at fifty or sixty.” “When spiritual youth outlives the physical body—that’s when women’s tragedies happen.” “But Madam, you’re still meant to be young anyway.”

Takako Nishina was startled by the woman who could casually utter the word “physical body.” “Shouldn’t you be happy people think you look young?” Kensuke Hōrai interjected.

“Even though you’re really just an old woman, aren’t you?” Kazuko Hōrai felt as though she had been scorned by both her husband Kensuke and Sugiko Minamibara.

Rokurō Nishina did nothing but drink. He found himself completely unable to speak. Anan seemed like a dazzling presence. She seemed like a woman from some distant place. And compared to that, his wife Takako—gently bowing her head beside him—felt like someone he could approach with ease.

“Aren’t you married, Ms. Minamibara?”

Takako Nishina wondered if it was wrong to say such a thing, but in her tipsy state—entranced by Sugiko Minamibara—she timidly blurted it out. “Sugi thinks marriage is too ridiculous to bother with.”

Kazuko Hōrai stared directly at Sugiko Minamibara as she spoke.

“No, that’s not it at all, Mrs. Takako. There’s a reason.” Rokurō Nishina’s cheeks stiffened. “Even Ms. Minamibara wants to marry someday—she simply hasn’t found someone to her liking yet.”

Kensuke Hōrai looked at Sugiko Minamibara with an expression that seemed to say, "Hmm, yeah, right." Kazuko Hōrai clutched her pearls again.

“You seem to oppose everything I say.”

Kazuko Hōrai looked at her husband Kensuke somewhat coldly. “Oh my, I’m not avoiding marriage for the reasons you or your husband assume. Shall I divulge this old maid’s secret?”

Rokurō Nishina lowered his head.

“Of course, when I see those who are married, I am endlessly envious.” “But there was a time I swore I wouldn’t marry.” “It’s an old story, but when I was an innocent girl—a vow a pure-hearted girl made upon a man’s death, you see.” —That girl was Anan. That man was Nishina Rokurō. And that is not in the past. It is the present—

“My, how surprising. You’re such a child, Sugi.” “That’s right—I’m married in an unseen world, quietly preserving my virtue all this time.” Kensuke Hōrai saw through Sugiko Minamibara’s fabrication. Rokurō Nishina believed the unseen world was theirs alone. When Sugiko Minamibara’s eyes suddenly met the weary woman’s, the latter nodded. “Oh dear, how dreadful. I’m sorry—it seems I’ve made you feel uncomfortable.”

Takako Nishina spoke from the heart.

“No, I’m happy.”

Sugiko Minamibara laughed. But Anan began to cry. “Sugi is more… than I expected.”

Kazuko Hōrai couldn’t make sense of it. However, she couldn’t put it into words as a question. Takako Nishina was there. “Come on, anyway—we need to drink more.” Kensuke Hōrai said. Sugiko Minamibara energetically thrust out her glass.

—Sugiko Minamibara. The triangular lines between me, Kensuke Hōrai, and Kazuko Hōrai. The triangular lines between me, Rokurō Nishina, and Kazuko Hōrai. The triangular lines between me, Rokurō Nishina, and Kensuke Hōrai. I severed the three overlapping triangular lines. I tried to preserve only the line between Rokurō Nishina and Anan. But now a new triangular line formed. Because Takako Nishina appeared— —Anan despaired—

—No, believe in Rokurō Nishina’s love—

The Nishina couple seemed harmonious. That alone would not destabilize the world of Rokurō Nishina and Anan, but Sugiko Minamibara thought the pale, narrow-faced image of Takako Nishina must remain indelibly imprinted in Anan’s mind. “Sugi here doesn’t talk much about herself.” “Darling.” “Today we heard part of Sugi’s confession, but there must be more.” “Sugi’s character is rather suspect, isn’t it?” “It seems even I’m not trusted.”

Kazuko Hōrai looked alternately at her husband Kensuke and Sugiko Minamibara. “Then I suppose blabbering on about everything counts as proof of trust?” Sugiko Minamibara said cheerfully.

“Now, now, let’s not fuss over anything,” said Kensuke Hōrai. “There’s nothing good about that.” “I only say this because I like you, Sugi—I’m trying to go out of my way for your sake.”

“How about going out of your way for me?”

Kensuke Hōrai jokingly patted Kazuko Hōrai’s shoulder.

“Ms. Minamibara, how pitiful. You’re being reminded of the past.” At that moment, the one who offered words of sympathy to Sugiko Minamibara was Takako Nishina. Sugiko Minamibara had no choice but to nod silently.

―What a dreadful thing. She had been pitied by Takako Nishina. It would be better for Anan to declare here that she loved Rokurō Nishina and receive mockery or hatred from Takako Nishina than to be pitied― ―It’s no use. Everything is hopeless. Anan can’t say a thing― Kazuko Hōrai, fiddling with her pearls, grew irritated upon realizing the gathering’s atmosphere hadn’t become what she had imagined. She had intended to show Sugiko Minamibara her intimate relationship with her husband Kensuke. However, Kensuke Hōrai would defend Sugiko Minamibara at every turn, and now even Takako Nishina had joined in.

“Listen, Roku-chan. Don’t you think Sugi seems to always wear a mask?” Finally, she attempted to secure the agreement of the last remaining person.

“I don’t know. Not at all. Instead of that, why don’t you sing something?” Rokurō Nishina thought that having Kazuko Hōrai sing her specialty would be the best way to keep the gathering from falling flat in this situation. As expected, she approached the piano cheerfully. Rokurō Nishina silently commanded Anan to play the piano. “I’ll accompany you.”

“Oh, Sugi, you can play the piano?” “Ms. Minamibara sure is a jack-of-all-trades.” Kazuko Hōrai flipped through the sheet music and chose what seemed like the most difficult accompaniment. “Can you play this at first sight?” “Yes. The Erlking.”

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

Rokurō Nishina felt relieved. That he could stay silent, and that Sugiko Minamibara had turned her back on him—these became his salvation. —Anan, what a sorrowful meeting we had—

He wasn’t listening to Kazuko Hōrai’s singing. And he clasped his hands together, staring fixedly at them. Kensuke Hōrai wasn’t listening either. He sensed his wife Kazuko’s unease and thought he had to find a way to appease her before the gathering ended. Kazuko Hōrai stood by the piano, occasionally glancing at the sheet music as she lost herself in the sound of her own voice. No matter what anyone says, I am the central figure of tonight. Even Sugi must have noticed that and is secretly jealous of me. Oh, my husband saw me and gave a faint smile. After all, my husband must be fond of my beauty—

Sugiko Minamibara played faithfully to avoid mistakes. When the piece ended, the one who applauded was Takako Nishina. She, believing she had to applaud, had been poised and ready since the piece began. “The notes are out of tune.”

Sugiko Minamibara struck the keys three or four times. “Sugi, you never told me you could play the piano?”

Sugiko Minamibara gave a wry smile.

“Sugi, play something.” “Oh, I’ll play.”

Sugiko Minamibara answered curtly. And then, for a while, she gazed quietly at the piano. The four men and women strained their ears. —Anan, poor Anan. The person you love is someone who has a happy family. Takako-san is such a quiet, kind person. Anan. You mustn't be jealous. Anan, don’t cry. Because the person you love mustn’t suffer—

She began to play. It was her own composition. The theme had been established. She added variations as she played. Now only Rokurō Nishina remained behind her. The one playing was Anan.

—Sugi plays the piano. Sugi sings a song. She sang before my husband. Sugi and myself. Youth. Talent. No—I’m the one. I am Kensuke Hōrai’s wife. A wife’s qualification. Sugi lacks that. No matter how accomplished Sugi might be—she’s still an old maid— Kazuko Hōrai despised old maid Sugiko Minamibara. That she could feel such contempt was due to Kensuke Hōrai’s presence.

Kensuke Hōrai was gazing at the sculpted profile of Sugiko Minamibara. But he remained aware that his wife Kazuko was beside him. So he occasionally made sure to glance toward his wife Kazuko. The luster of Kazuko Hōrai’s pearls seemed to him to affirm his future relationship with Sugiko Minamibara.

Takako Nishina wondered in amazement how one could produce such a rapid succession of varied notes. —Ah, Anan. If you stop playing the piano, I'll go mad. Anan's sensation. Anan's composition. Anan's sound. But still, keep playing—if you go on forever, I’ll go mad—

Rokurō Nishina kept his eyes closed.

A treble tremolo, a minor arpeggio.

—Anan. Anan—

Anan felt tears streaming down her cheek. The final three harmonies.

“Anan.”

Suddenly. That was Rokurō Nishina’s voice. It was his true voice. Anan saw his figure reflected in the piano. She kept her hands on the keys and hung her head without releasing the pedal.

Takako Nishina and the Hōrai couple heard Rokurō Nishina’s cry and witnessed his expression. No one uttered a word. They stared up in astonishment at Rokurō Nishina standing rigidly before them. How could they possibly comprehend his brief outcry? Suddenly, golden-brown fabric shimmered. Anan kept her eyes fixed on the door as she hurried across the room. Tears glistened.

“She’s got a demonic nature. “She’s got a demonic nature.” “Mrs. Takako, your husband has been possessed by a demon.” “Come now.” “Let’s start drinking again.”

Kensuke Hōrai had finally managed to say just that. For him, the fact that Mr. Hōrai and Mrs. Hōrai had emerged unscathed must have been his primary relief.

“What’s happened to you?”

Takako cast an anxious gaze along with the others. Rokurō Nishina dejectedly sank into a chair. At that moment, Kazuko Hōrai downed the glass beside her in one gulp and let out a hysterical laugh.

Thirteen

—I cannot go on living. In my entire life, there will never be another such grand, glorious moment of happiness. "Anan," your voice. My moment of happiness, my glorious moment—

〈1952〉