Pathway to Japanese Literature

Saiko sat by the pine roots, gathering pebbles from around her and hurling them toward the sea with boyish motions, grunting "Hup!" each time she threw. The stones flew barely a few meters before thudding damply onto the sandy stretch.

Along the winter beach, winds would occasionally roar from afar with heavy rumbles, churning the air. Though there were no cloud shadows in the sky, the pale sun spilled a soft light upon the sandy ground like scattered needles. Saiko suddenly collapsed onto the sandy ground and, like a struggling dog, rolled about in the dry sand. The sand crept into Saiko’s heated body through her collar, sleeves, and hem. Saiko found it pleasant—the way sand gradually worked its way into her sweaty skin. In the end, she spread open her bosom and scooped the dry sand into it. The sand carried the briny smell of the sea. She scooped sand into both hands, declared it a “shower,” and sprinkled it over her bare knees. Occasionally, faint whirlwinds—like those from Kobito Island—would send sandy gusts against Saiko’s cheeks. The sand atop her knees scattered with a whisper in the wind, leaving her soft, round knees glowing faintly red in the sunlight.

Saiko suddenly stood up on the sand. Sand grated gritty against both her back and chest. Saiko shook her hair, brushed the sand from it, and then—determined not to let a single grain fall from her body—held her breath and ran home. Kenichi, who had been watching Saiko running from the beach in her strange state from the second-floor sunroom, hurried down the staircase to investigate. “Saiko-chan, what’s wrong? Puffing out your cheeks like that…”

When Kenichi stepped out to the veranda, Saiko—wearing a strange expression as if about to vomit—said to him, “Hurry, hurry…” Not knowing what to do, Kenichi hurriedly followed after Saiko, who was running into the tatami room. Saiko entered the tatami room, turned to look back at Kenichi, and stared at him fixedly for a moment—then suddenly stripped off her haori, removed her tabi socks, and began shaking her body violently. The sand that had collected in her collars, sleeves, and chest spilled down onto the new tatami mats with a gritty sound.

“What’s wrong?” “You know, I brought you a souvenir…”

Saiko grew pale as she shook herself violently. Kenichi stared at her in dismay. She untied her obi. Then abandoning the sash there, she ran to her room. Kenichi had been gazing at the sand on the tatami when suddenly a burning heat welled up in his chest. Her loneliness could be interpreted as reproaching him for everything since yesterday. He had gone searching for Saiko at the beach earlier but returned unsuccessful. Kenichi remained standing in the tatami room awhile, fierce adoration for her surging through his heart.

Kenichi went to Saiko’s room. Saiko had already changed into Western clothes and was in the process of wiping her face with a wet hand towel.

“Hey... I’m sorry...” “......” “Did you get angry?” “What reason would I have to be angry? There’s nothing to be angry about at all. —Earlier, I went to the beach too, but...” “Oh right... I’d been walking somewhere much farther away...”

Saiko chuckled softly at Kenichi’s reflection in the mirror. Kenichi abruptly crouched down, wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Still clutching the damp hand towel, Saiko leaned against Kenichi’s chest for several moments—then jerked upright sharply,

“No!” “I hate it! Go away! I hate you, Brother Ken! I hate you!” and hurled the wet hand towel at Kenichi’s reflection in the mirror. Having stood up like that, she leaned against the wall, “Go to Shinkyo—go anywhere you want!” “Why did you decide on such a place all by yourself?” “Why must you go somewhere as far away as Shinkyo?” “Was going to university all just for ending up in a place like Shinkyo?”

Saiko was ranting all at once. Kenichi remained silent. Small-statured and small-faced Saiko appeared to Kenichi exactly like a schoolgirl. He simply couldn’t see her as a twenty-one-year-old woman. “Don’t be silly, Saiko-chan. You could just come visit me in Shinkyo whenever you want—it’s not like we’ll never see each other again!” “But why would you choose a job in such a faraway place? —Is it because my sister went away? I don’t think Brother Ken considers someone like me at all.” “I find that utterly irritating...”

Suddenly, stridently, the bell of the clock on the desk began to ring. Saiko irritably grabbed the clock. Kenichi was astonished by Saiko’s maddened appearance and stared fixedly at her. Saiko opened the window and threw the chiming clock into the garden. A cold wind blew in through the opened window, and the sound of the sea—like distant thunder—could be heard. Kenichi went out into the corridor to pick up the clock that had been thrown into the garden. Truly, even without Saiko having to say it, I myself had not even considered taking a job in a place like Shinkyo up until a week ago. After graduating, I had simply assumed I would work in Tokyo—in fact, I had already submitted my résumé to places like Tokyo Electric, Mitsui, and Mitsubishi through the university’s employment office—yet I abruptly withdrew all those applications and ended up taking a job alone at the Shinkyo Steel Corporation.

It couldn’t be dismissed as mere youthful caprice—some fervent aspiration was propelling Kenichi’s young heart. Rather than clinging to a small chair in cramped mainland Japan, I had wanted to go somewhere far away and work to my heart’s content. Shinkyo was a purely new city, and the steel industry—vigorously developing even in wartime—made young Kenichi feel the appeal of working there. When Kenichi had suddenly revealed to Saiko’s parents that his position in Shinkyo had been decided, even they were surprised and found his desire to go to such a distant land perplexing.

○

When Kenichi brought the clock to Saiko’s room and gave it to her, Saiko, as though she had become a different person, quietly accepted the clock from him and slowly, slowly wound its key.

“The reason I decided to go to Shinkyo isn’t because of someone like Ms. Katsuko.” “Sure, I loved her and would’ve married her if I could’ve—but she’s already gone and gotten married… How could I keep thinking about Ms. Katsuko forever?” “The truth is, I sought work far away because I’ve come to hate Tokyo… You probably can’t understand why I’d leave my hometown like this—but anyway, I want to get away from Tokyo at least once.” “And I just wanted to try working in a new place with room to grow… I truly detest Tokyo!”

“So, you dislike me too, then?” “Well… That’s… It’s complicated… I do like you—I really do—but my growing dislike for Tokyo has nothing to do with you at all. Though I don’t think I can explain this well… When a man decides on his life’s work—well—there are things different from women’s issues or personal feelings… Shinkyo doesn’t feel distant at all these days—I’d want you to come visit anytime… I just want to work somewhere I can breathe freely.” “So I hope you’ll come around to it comfortably…”

Saiko remained silent.

Such a splendid person going far away... I hate it. I absolutely hate it. Saiko remained silent, gazing up at Kenichi as if glaring. His shoulders were sturdy, and behind the large Lloyd glasses, his eyes—always gazing amiably into empty space—along with the firm set of his jaw that manifested Kenichi’s strong will, were features Saiko had dearly loved. Even if they were to part like this, she regretted that their farewell would consist only of that kiss on her forehead. And realizing today would be the last time they’d be alone together, Saiko felt the restless urge to throw herself into the sand again, just as she had earlier.—Her mother and others were due to arrive on the evening train. The fact that they had come ahead to this Chiba villa just the two of them on the morning train began to feel utterly meaningless. Behind the bathhouse, the old farmer managing the villa was slaughtering a chicken and burning off its feathers over a bonfire.

“So tomorrow’s the day we part, then?”

“Yeah…” “I’m sorry, okay?” “There’s nothing for you to apologize for.” “I’ve been looked after by you in so many ways… I’m grateful.”

Around six o'clock, Saiko's mother and the others arrived. Nakahori and Sakuraguchi also arrived one train later. Since Mother had brought not just one but two of Saiko's little brothers along, the lonely villa had become so bustling it seemed ready to burst. Saiko, with her frail constitution, had been recuperating at this villa since autumn and had unusually returned to Tokyo for about a week. This morning too, she had boarded the train from Ryogoku accompanied by Kenichi, but Saiko had not wanted to part with him in Tokyo in such haste. It was Saiko who had insisted on holding a farewell party for Kenichi at the Chiba house, forcibly inviting the busy Kenichi against his will.

“Oh, could a dog have come up here? There’s sand all over the sitting room...”

Saiko’s mother, seeing the sand scattered across the sitting room, went to the kitchen to fetch a broom while— “Saiko, what happened to all this sand in the sitting room?” she inquired. Saiko exchanged glances with Kenichi and smiled wryly.

Nakahori and Sakuraguchi, who hadn't seen the sea in a long time, were leaning against the garden fence despite the cold, gazing out at the water. Kenichi alone wore a business suit, while both Nakahori and Sakuraguchi were in student uniforms.

“Now then, everyone—please come inside to the sitting room since it’s cold.” “A hibachi has been prepared…”

The sitting room was swept clean with zabuton cushions gathered from nearby neatly arranged, and Mother was setting a large pot on the hibachi. “Hey—hey.” “Get over here already—you’ll catch cold, I’m telling you…”

Kenichi, holding Saiko’s younger brother Takashi, called out to the two by the fence from the veranda. Saiko had tied her hair with a black ribbon and slung a gaudy brocade haori over her Western clothes. Her face, as somber as a Kyoto doll’s, with its thin skin, appeared strangely pitiable.

When Nakahori and Sakuraguchi entered the room, Saiko deliberately sat between these two university students. When Kenichi saw Saiko sitting across from him, smiling cheerfully instead of taking a seat by his side, he found himself feeling oddly flustered.

“Mr. Sakuraguchi, where have you decided to go?” “What do you mean? Do you mean where I’ll be working?” “Yes.”

Sakuraguchi was born in Kagoshima and seemed unable to shed his Kagoshima dialect; he spoke with a peculiar stutter.

“It’s been decided I’ll work at Yawata Steel Works, though… there’s not a soul I know there, so it’ll be lonely…” “Oh, you’re going to Yawata? And Mr. Nakahori—where will you be?” “I’ll be going to Jilin with the South Manchuria Railway. It’s quite far, but since Shimizu is heading to Shinkyo, I look forward to us meeting now and then…” “My goodness—all these distant places! I thought Mr. Kenichi going to Shinkyo was far enough, but yours is even farther away, Mr. Nakahori…”

The chicken and vegetables in the pot began to boil. Kenichi was serving Takashi small portions from the pot while jiggling the knee on which he held the boy. Sakuraguchi had a close-cropped haircut and a rugged build, but his eyelids were puffy, and when he smiled, his large double teeth showed through, giving him a childlike expression. Nakahori carried himself with the quiet demeanor of someone who would be better suited as a city office official, his hair neatly combed and his uniform collar kept clean. His complexion was dusky, his large nose truly marking him as good-natured. Perhaps Nakahori had caught a cold; he coughed intermittently.

“So next year… you’ll all end up going far away…” Saiko said while clumsily pouring beer for everyone. Since Sakuraguchi alone had insisted he preferred sake over beer, they had asked the villa’s elderly caretaker to procure local sake beforehand. Past eight o'clock, Kenichi’s friend Nobeoka—who worked at Kisarazu Station—arrived. He had been Kenichi’s middle school classmate in Kisarazu, a man who spoke in a booming voice without reserve. Though the very picture of an ordinary station worker, his frank and amusing way of speaking won everyone’s favor. Nobeoka wore plain hakama trousers beneath his haori jacket.

“So Shimizu’s heading to Shinkyo, I hear? Damn envious… I’ve started wanting to go somewhere far away too. If I were a university grad like Shimizu, there’d be ways to land some fancy job—but what can you do with just middle school?” As Nobeoka grew drunker, he declared—"Me? Just a track maintenance grunt doing ditchdigger work"—while clenching his bony fist on his knee alone. His country bumpkin bluster about soon making it big grated on Sakuraguchi’s nerves until the university man fell silent, drowning himself in sake.

“Well even with university degrees, you’ve got rough times ahead! Till now it was fine riding that merry-go-round within school ideology frameworks, but we young folks must grab an ideology that’s ours alone.” “What’s crucial is forging ideology through our own strength...” “Oh?” “You saying this ‘ideology through our own strength’ business applies only to you?” “What exactly is this ideology of yours?”

Sakuraguchi turned pale, narrowed his puffy eyes, and stared fixedly at Nobeoka. Within that expression, something like seething anger was coursing through.

After laying out the students’ bedding on the second floor, Saiko’s mother took the sleepy-looking Takashi and briskly withdrew to Saiko’s room. Kenichi now seemed to regret having invited Nobeoka, but intervening in the two men’s conversation would feel like admitting weakness, so he remained silent for a time. The quiet Nakahori suddenly interjected in a casual manner, “Do you really yearn for scholarship that much? I don’t quite grasp what you mean by ‘riding a merry-go-round within the framework of school ideologies,’ but tonight is after all a farewell banquet for Shimizu-kun and the rest of us—let us refrain from these difficult discussions!”

“Ah ha ha!… Difficult talk, eh? “This here…” Nobeoka, laughing uproariously as though thoroughly amused, thrust his chopsticks into the pot that was on the verge of boiling over. Then Sakuraguchi suddenly raised his voice:

“You damn idiot! Who the hell are you insulting?!” Sakuraguchi snatched the chopsticks from Nobeoka’s outstretched hand and hurled them at the glass door with a sharp crack. Nobeoka lumbered to his feet after having his chopsticks taken. The moment he stood up, he grabbed the beer bottle before him and hurled it with all his might at Sakuraguchi’s face. Sakuraguchi twisted his body and fell facedown onto the tatami just as the bottle struck the alcove wall with a heavy thud. When Sakuraguchi raised his face—perhaps having hit his nose against the beer bottle—blood gushed from his nostrils, smearing around his lips and jawline. The whole incident happened in an instant, leaving Kenichi, Nakahori, and Saiko dumbstruck as they held their breaths.

Sakuraguchi wiped his nosebleed with his right hand, immediately grabbed Nobeoka by the collar, yanked open the veranda’s glass door, and leapt down into the sandy garden. Two or three times came the sounds of fierce slaps and bodies violently grappling. The sea roared with a hollow rumble. “Hey! That’s enough… cut it out…” Nakahori went out to the veranda, but the two men remained locked together, tumbling roughly across the sand. Kenichi too stepped onto the veranda but stood silently watching their fight intently—beneath his employment-related joy lay a thread of loneliness from leaving student life to scatter far apart, a restless ache like wanting to lean on someone that had been gnawing at their spirits these past months. To Kenichi, Sakuraguchi’s all-out fighting form seemed bathed in lingering emotional reflections, making it strangely refreshing to watch. In fights, Sakuraguchi—a Kagoshima-born karate practitioner—was no match for Nobeoka. After two or three grapples, Nobeoka was already pinned beneath him, groaning as his chest got squeezed.

“Hey Sakuraguchi! That’s enough—stop it already!” “Enough now—quit this!” Nakahori clattered down to the garden in his geta. Nobeoka lay smeared with snot and drool grinding his teeth as he groaned. “You think I’d lose ta some half-assed college punks?!”

Even as he was being constricted, Nobeoka continued to curse. Upon hearing this, Kenichi suddenly jumped down into the garden still wearing his tabi socks and pulled the two apart, "Nobeoka! Get out of here, you bastard!" He bellowed in a loud voice. Nobeoka, now standing, had his chest exposed, with a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his lips. He let out a boozy breath and glared at Sakuraguchi for a moment, then simply strode out of the garden barefoot. "Oh, that person’s hat is here…"

Saiko brought the hat, but no one went to take it to him. “Insolent bastard. Why’d you invite trash like that?”

Sakuraguchi was grilling Kenichi. Saiko’s mother was startled and flustered, but she immediately brought a rag and handed it to Kenichi. Kenichi took the rag and passed it to Sakuraguchi, then removed his tabi socks and went up to the tatami room. Before long, Nobeoka’s singing voice—seemingly returning along the distant beach—came faintly to their ears, as though being blown away by the wind.

“He’s a decent fellow at heart, but staying too long in the countryside makes one overly self-conscious—gets weathered into being such an odd character...”

“I don’t know what it is—he’s a strange one. Acting all old-man-like, putting on airs like he’s some battle-hardened veteran… That sort of attitude isn’t manly at all.” “How old is he?” “Twenty-five, wasn’t it? He’s full of resentment—never imagined he’d turn out like this… He’d always brag about entering society before me, but I never thought him so simple-minded… Though I suppose if we went off to some distant place for company work ourselves, we might end up feeling just as grubby inside…”

“He’s got lousy drinking habits…” “Yeah, when he’s sober, he’s actually quite interesting. A truly well-rounded, ideal man even—but…” “Working at the station’s all well and good—but I can’t stand men who belittle themselves then pick fights with others…”

○

The next morning, Saiko was sunbathing in the narrow sunroom on the second floor. She lay half-naked on a rattan chaise longue, her back to the sun. And she was quietly reading a book. The desolate wave of yesterday’s youth had grown utterly still and calm, like the waves beyond the window.—On a white excursion boat descending downstream from the town of Rüdesheim on the Rhine’s banks, a group of three young men and three young women had boarded. This group was part of a student theater troupe; though they had toured upstream along the Rhine performing plays with just six members, none of their shows drew crowds, and by the time they lodged in Rüdesheim, they were so poor they couldn’t even afford bread after paying for their inn. At that moment, an old gentleman who had ridden into the inn’s courtyard took pity on these despondent youths and guided them to lively downstream towns like Königswinter and places such as Nonnenwerth Island where seven mountains could be seen. The wealthy old gentleman had developed feelings of admiration for Genma, one of the three young women. Until they reached the downstream town, Genma continued to agonize over the old gentleman but ultimately rejected his affection and disembarked at the port town with Gayeru from among the three young men—choosing a life of anxiety and scarcity, and above all, choosing precious youth…— After finishing Schmidtbon’s *Beyond the Mountains*, Saiko rested her face upon the book for a while, assailed by whirling thoughts. Beneath her chin lay the book’s white pages, yet from those white pages’ printed characters she imagined the cold, deep-flowing Rhine streaming serenely. It even began to feel as if she herself had become a girl like Genma from the story. The youths and girls in this novel possess a brave vitality to confront lives filled with anxiety and scarcity. Yet why was everything around Kenichi and ourselves so gloomy…? We didn’t struggle for food or shelter, yet all around us reeked of old age and clutter—every student frantically scrambling for employment… Even youth—that which would never return—they lived by smothering it and brawling amongst themselves.

Saiko did not know how many years she might live in this seaside villa, but something about having been born into this world—about receiving life itself—had been growing sorrowful, achingly poignant, and melancholic within her.

“May I come in?” “Who is it?” “I…” “You can come in…”

Kenichi entered the sunroom with a bright complexion from satisfied sleep, his movements slow and deliberate. "You’ve gotten quite tanned to a fox-brown shade, haven’t you?" "My back… must have a nice color by now…" Kenichi gazed at Saiko’s back as if it were something dazzling. It swelled softly like freshly baked bread. The line of the groove along her spine looked healthy. The flesh on her shoulders was as thin as a child’s, and sunlight glittered on the pointed tip of her left shoulder. Beyond the windowpane, the sea glimmered white with reflected sunlight.

“When will you come back to Tokyo, Kenichi?” “Let me see… In about a week, perhaps? Since I’ll be heading there around late February or early March, I can still come here frequently until then…” “There’s no need for you to come anymore.” “Why?” “Does it matter why?… You can push forward doing anything by yourself anyway, with your path neatly laid out—shouldn’t that be comforting?” “I’m just waiting here for the day I die—there’s no need for you to come anymore…”

“Lately you’ve been acting strange, Saiko-chan. Why have you grown so resentful?” “How rude—I’m not being resentful at all…”

Saiko got up from the rattan chair and rubbed her chest and arms with a dry towel. Both breasts were small, like an elementary school child’s. Kenichi used the other towel on the table to rub Saiko’s back. “Was Sister Katsuko very fat?” “…………” “Today, you can talk about Sister Katsuko.” “Because they’re all just other people now…”

Saiko put on an orange blouse and fastened the black buttons on her chest one by one, “What about Mr. Sakuraguchi and the others?”

she asked. “Earlier, I went with Nakahori and the old servant to see the beach seine net at the shore, but…” “Yes… That Mr. Sakuraguchi is such a lively person—I do think he’s well-suited for going to Yawata Steel Works.” “So everyone graduates from university, secures jobs, marries without love, has babies, and lives out their days in peace—is that how it goes?” “That’s more than enough… Saiko-chan, you just think up all sorts of things in your head, judging and praising people all by yourself… Don’t you think a truly human way of living ultimately lies in an ordinary life? …You read too many novels.” “Since you’re ill, you must overcome your illness.” “After all, I think it’s better for now to calmly do things like take regular sunbaths, go for walks, and eat good food—but if you keep fretting like this, everyone else will have to fret too.” “I suppose yesterday, you brought sand over for me.” “I like that innocent Saiko-bou—I think it’d be splendid if she could get a job, marry someone, and live out her days in peace…”

“Ugh, how I loathe this! I detest things like such stale youth and withered youth...” “Withered youth… Hmm… Maybe so. Youth isn’t something that needs grand performances every time. Depending on one’s environment, there’s the youth of nobility, the youth of peasants, and even the youth of salarymen like us. The youth in the novels you read, Saiko-chan—that’s just a play the authors have written. In the real world, we can’t exactly hang up a golden signboard proclaiming ‘This here is our youth,’ can we? People can carry that youthful spirit with them their whole lives, and I’m perfectly content getting an ordinary job to make my old man and mother happy, I suppose…”

“…………” “If we let Saiko-chan speak her mind,” he said, “she’d claim youth means casting aside your given job sometimes to devote yourself passionately to a woman—but even that ultimately amounts to little…” Kenichi walked to the window, opened it, and gazed at the sea. The water’s hue deepened steadily into blue. Fleecy white clouds streamed across the sky. “Well, Brother Ken,” she replied, “you can say such things because you’re the sort who’ll live long.” Her voice frayed like sun-bleached cloth. “I… I don’t even know when I’ll die, after all…”

“What are you talking about?” “Didn’t I just tell you you mustn’t let your illness defeat you…? If you take it easy and recuperate properly, someone as young as you, Saiko-chan, will soon grow big and healthy like Sister Katsuko…”

While battling his illness, Kenichi couldn't help pitying young Saiko living at this desolate seashore.

Kenichi was distantly related to Saiko’s family, and from the time he entered Waseda University, he had been boarding at her house. Kenichi had liked Saiko’s elder sister Katsuko and had thought that once he graduated from university and secured employment, he would take Katsuko as his wife.

But before anyone knew it, Katsuko had an ordinary arranged marriage and ended up wed into a plain merchant family. As if something he held in his palm had been stolen, Kenichi had momentarily felt deflated and dazed—but he soon managed to pull himself together and even regained his former disciplined student life.

Saiko had long since keenly sensed—and come to fully understand—the faint undercurrent of mutual affection that had flowed between Kenichi and Katsuko. That keenness of hers seemed almost pathologically amplified—as if she were adding "something" extra and blowing it out of proportion in her mind. When he said she needed to become plump like Katsuko, and Saiko suddenly fell silent, Kenichi had to reflect on this with another sigh. "I’ll come to Chiba once or twice more before long—there are still so many things I want to discuss with you, Saiko-chan. As for Ms. Katsuko—there was never anything as significant as what you’ve been imagining, and I’m incapable of anything so intense." "As you know, Saiko-chan, Ms. Katsuko was always a reliable and plain person—and truthfully, I’ve come to think I’d rather take you as my bride if I could. But I don’t have the freedom to abandon my career and stay by your side forever… In the end, it’d be best if you recovered your health and came to Manchuria… A man must sometimes relinquish even a precious romance for his vocation—not out of utility, but duty." "Do you understand…? Even if I were involved in some marvelous romance right now, I’d still end up going to Shinkyo regardless—and this resolve to embark on new work is something I wouldn’t trade for anything in my current state…"

Saiko remained silent.

Bright sunlight flooded the tatami mats, and Kenichi’s shadow lay sharply defined upon them like that of a corpulent hunchback.

“So I’ve already told you it’s fine, haven’t I? I’m not going to someplace like Shinkyo… I have my own life too, and I think it’s best we part ways as we are. I am ill, after all…”

Kenichi felt as though someone had called him and turned sharply to gaze toward the beach. Nobeoka stood outside the fence with a pallid face. "What's wrong?"

“I stayed at an inn in front of the station last night… Came back to get my forgotten hat.” “Well, come on in…” Kenichi pushed up his glasses and immediately went downstairs.

Saiko stepped down from the rattan chair, went to the window, and tried singing in a small voice. Those waves too, that sky too are but momentary flows—everything lies scattered like dry leaves. In the face of Kenichi’s new departure, petty feminine jealousy tormented her. She couldn’t take Kenichi away. Was men’s work truly so alluring to men…? She would have to continue living here by this seaside—threatened by illness—spending each day in ill humor.

What on earth is human life? ...What sort of life is this "life" that people keep going on about—this life they march toward? Saiko felt an unbearable sensation as though her skin were being clawed at. The beach had become dotted with specks; Sakuraguchi and Nakahori’s group were returning. Saiko waved a white towel from the window. Sakuraguchi and Nakahori came running back as well. (Ah, those people too will now advance into new lives...) Waving her handkerchief, Saiko thought that from tomorrow onward she alone would remain here at this seaside again, growing strangely sentimental.

“So then, goodbye. The geta—I bought ’em at the station…”

“Ah, I see.” “Come to Tokyo sometime too…” “Yeah, I’ll come visit once before you go to Shinkyo…”

Outside the fence, Nobeoka's mouse-gray soft hat came into view. Nobeoka walked along the living hedge on the side opposite to Sakuraguchi without once looking back.

The sea suddenly darkened—perhaps the wind had begun to rise—as a rolled-up newspaper was blown by the wind along the outside of the fence toward the rocky cliff.