Pathway to Japanese Literature

October 18th. The sky had cleared, and the sunlight was radiant.
A little past noon, I got off the train at H Station and walked home.
As I passed through the bustling M Town street, I suddenly thought of buying a toy for Taka.
The toy store's front displayed a jumble of assorted items.
I glanced that way and shook my head.
That such a notion had struck me was most unusual.
And something felt amiss.
When I looked up, the vast blue sky arched in an eternal dome that rendered me utterly solitary.

Walking hurriedly as usual, I made my way back to my own home along the quiet street between temples.

When I entered the entranceway, Tsune alone came to greet me.
I felt a sense of something missing.
When I returned home from work, it was usually Yoshiko, Ms.S, or Tsune who would have Taka walk out to greet me, supporting him from behind.
Taka would come leaping out, laughing all the while.

I silently took off my shoes, passed through the tea room, and peered into the sitting room.
The usual futon was spread out with Taka lying there.
Yoshiko sat beside him.

“What’s wrong?” I said.

“Yes,” Yoshiko replied, raising anxious eyes.
And then she told me the following.
Around ten o'clock, Taka took his usual nap as always.
He woke up at twelve o'clock.
He seemed disappointed and was listless.
The forehead was hot.
When she took his temperature, it had risen to 39.8 degrees.
When she put him back to bed in surprise, he fell asleep just like that.

Taka was born on January 11th of last year and grew up robustly.
However, in June he contracted whooping cough.
Fortunately, there was a pediatric specialist named Dr. S who knew us well, so we had him examine Taka, and he recovered before it became severe.
Then at the end of August, he developed indigestion.
Since it was very mild, we had him examined by a nearby doctor named T, but it never improved.
Before we knew it, the illness had become chronic.
I once again imposed on Dr. S for his care.
The illness worsened, and there were two or three dangerous episodes.
He had inherited my weak respiratory system.
However, through Dr. S’s treatment, he somehow managed to preserve his life.
Dr. S would always visit my home during breaks from his busy work at the university's research institute.
When the illness lessened, Yoshiko would take Taka in her arms and bring Tsune along to visit Dr. S at the university.
And from around May of this year, he no longer needed to take medicine except occasionally.
He began eating congee and fish meat.
The body that had been utterly weakened by nearly a year of illness following whooping cough appeared to be gradually recovering.
We breathed a sigh of relief from a year's worth of anxiety.

"I looked back and thought how remarkable it was that he had endured this long," I reflected.
And from around that time, we had a woman named K from the T-style resistance therapy come to our house every day, where she would massage his abdomen for ten or fifteen minutes at a time to stimulate intestinal activity.
From late August, it became sufficient to have Ms. K come about once every three days.
From mid-September, it became once a week.

Taka was gradually, ever so gradually, breaking free from a year's worth of frailty and putting on weight.
He no longer required others' assistance, having reached a point where he could grow on his own.
Occasionally there would be issues with bowel movements or he would run a fever, but those too would soon subside.
He began to walk by holding onto things.
And his mental faculties showed remarkable development.
He understood everything clearly.
We were glad.
At N Shrine's festival, whenever we bought him a small festival lantern, he would hold it in his hands and, while having someone support his body from behind, run around inside the house.

Yoshiko was pregnant with their second child.
The due date was set for late September or early October, but there were still no signs of labor.
The midwife said there was no need to worry even if it came a little late.
“Since there seem to be many heartbeats，it must certainly be a girl，” she said.
“So with one boy and one girl each，it would be perfectly balanced.”

I peered into Taka's face that day.
He was sleeping soundly.
When I placed my hand on his forehead, there was still a fever, but it seemed to have subsided slightly.
But anyway, I decided to call our regular nearby doctor, Dr. U, for now.
“It’s going to be fine!” I declared.

We alone had our meal.
At mealtime, Taka would always sit between my legs and eat.
Because Taka was sleeping that day, when I sat alone in front of the meal tray—a rare occurrence—I felt strangely lonely.

When the meal ended and some time passed, Taka woke up.
Even when I held him, he remained limp.
I gave him a piece of bread to hold, but he didn't even try to eat it and immediately threw it away.
Even after he began eating food again, Taka only had congee at lunch and dinner, and in the morning he always ate bread with goat milk.
Additionally, since sugary snacks were bad for his intestines during meals too, whenever he wanted something to eat, we always gave him bread.
Taka always ate that with great delight.
Every day, we had bread delivered from A Bakery—though it was a bit farther away—because the quality was good.
But that day, he didn’t even touch the bread.
“What’s wrong?” I exchanged glances with Yoshiko.
However, Taka didn't even cry.
However, he looked very sleepy.

Soon Dr. U arrived.
He completed the examination.
He explained that a significant amount of food had stagnated in the intestines.
However, he added there was no particular cause for concern.
Given how Taka had long suffered from severe intestinal illness and such episodes were common, I found myself unsurprised.

I cooled his head with an ice pillow and also cooled his forehead. After four o'clock, there was one bowel movement, but the stool wasn't particularly bad. At five o'clock, I administered the medicine obtained from the doctor's office. When I took his temperature, it had dropped to thirty-seven point six degrees.

"It seems it really was nothing after all," I said.

"If the fever goes down, that would be good," Yoshiko replied.

But somehow, deep down, we were anxious.
Strangely, Taka seemed to crave sleep.
Even so, since he had his eyes clearly open during mealtime, I wrapped him in a padded kimono and held him between my legs as usual.
We stopped the rice gruel and gave him bread.
Taka ate those two pieces.
Then he drank just under five shaku of goat milk.

After six o'clock, he had a bout of diarrhea once.
It was a deep blue stool.
Around eight o'clock, he had diarrhea once again.
The blue color had turned strangely dark and blackish.
And he continued to doze off drowsily.

Whenever we thought things were bad, we would suddenly grow anxious again.
Regarding Taka, we had been constantly plagued by intestinal issues since last year.
On top of that, since last summer, as many as three of our close relatives had died from illness.
Our nerves were raw with anxiety toward illness and death.
So if Taka’s condition seemed to worsen, I decided I would immediately request an examination from either Dr.S or Dr.U.
Dr.U was a man widely recognized as having exceptional skills in pediatrics and had recently built a pediatric-specialized hospital.

I had Ms. S take Taka's stool sample and visit Dr. U immediately.
He stated that the stool's color resulted from the medicine, that bowel movements might become slightly more frequent due to a mild laxative in the medication, but that there was no cause for concern.
At any rate, since it was already late at night, I decided to monitor his condition until the next morning.

Around eleven o'clock, Taka wanted something.
That day, he had eaten bread and goat's milk for breakfast and had only just taken a small amount of the same in the evening.
So Yoshiko made him kudzu gruel.
And then she gave him that small portion.
After that, Taka soon fell peacefully asleep.
The fever had also dropped to 37.3 degrees.

We remained silent by Taka’s bedside for a while. But somehow, we became extremely lonely. I told her how I had suddenly thought of toys when returning home along M-chō Street during the day. “So if the boy’s illness worsens now,” I said, “people would say that was some sort of premonition warning us.” “I keep thinking... what if I come down with dysentery again...” Yoshiko murmured.

We went to bed around midnight. Though Taka had been sleeping with me since Yoshiko neared her delivery date, that night she held him as they slept.

During that night, there were two bouts of diarrhea.
The color of the stool was extremely abnormal.
However, even when morning came, his condition showed no particular worsening.
The fever measured 36.4 degrees.
"If things stay like this, it'll be fine," I thought.

I bore strict public duties.
Thus I left home after six o'clock as usual.
Yet anxiety clung to me constantly.
And I returned home at eleven o'clock.

Taka lay sleeping.
His condition remained unchanged.
Dr. U had come around ten o'clock and performed an intestinal lavage once, we were told.
There had been one bout of diarrhea in the morning and another after my return.
This time however, an extremely small amount of darkish-red substance mingled in the stool.
Appetite existed none whatsoever.

"This can't be good," I thought.
It suddenly struck me that even during Taka's worst bouts of indigestion before, there had almost never been a complete loss of appetite like this.
I started to grow flustered.
Yoshiko, who had been waiting for my return, also suddenly began making a fuss.

When it neared twelve o'clock, Taka grew profoundly listless.
"Could this be lethargy?" I wondered.

I had Ms. S—who had hurriedly finished her meal—dispatch the car immediately.
"If Dr. U or Dr. S aren't present—if neither is available, summon someone at once..." I instructed.
Though I feared acting without Dr. U's authorization, I couldn't endure waiting to deliberate.

Yoshiko and I remained stationed at Taka’s bedside.
Taka yawned.
“That he’s yawning is a good sign,” I said.
“Well, I’m not sure...” Yoshiko replied.

But my heart had grown so anxious that I couldn't help but think even that was acceptable.
And that anxiety truly began to take form.
“Your eyes... they look strange, don’t they?” Yoshiko said.

I peered into Taka's eyes.
Both eyeballs were slightly turned inward.
——Yoshiko had apparently seen such eyes in a patient before.
Last summer after I returned to my hometown, when my sister’s illness worsened, Yoshiko saw her eyes turn inward.
“Y-chan,your eyes look strange—they’re really turned inward!” When she said this,the sister replied.
“Yes... Everything looks double to me,and it’s so annoying I can’t bear it.”
Shortly after that,the sister died.
Yoshiko later told me this.

It was past one o'clock.
Taka’s hands trembled slightly, and at the same time, his eyes rolled a little.
Then it became quiet again.
After about ten minutes, the same thing happened again.
It's convulsions!
That thought flashed through my head like lightning.
There was nothing more we could do.
The mild convulsions struck frequently.
We steadily held Taka's small hand.
We moved our faces closer and farther away, but his vision seemed to have deteriorated significantly.
Yet he occasionally smiled.

Ms. S returned.
We were relieved.—First, we went to U Hospital.
Dr. U was out on a house call and apparently wouldn’t return until around seven o’clock.
We immediately went to Dr. S at the university’s research institute.
Dr. S had just gone to Yokohama and was away.
So we returned again to U Hospital and requested the vice-director.
At that very hospital, there happened to be a pediatrics-trained medical scholar named Mr. T, who commuted to the university’s research institute and was available every Sunday.
The hospital called the university for us.
Mr. T’s response was that he would come immediately.

We waited for Mr. T.

By past two o'clock, Taka already appeared to have almost lost consciousness.
No matter what we said or showed him, he remained dazed.
The mild convulsions still struck occasionally.

When had such a sudden change occurred?
What kind of battle had been waged within Taka's body as he lay there motionless and quiet without even suffering?
“Boy! Boy! What’s wrong?”
Yoshiko brought her face closer and said.

We were anxiously awaiting Mr.T's arrival.
Though Ms.S had left her rickshaw at the hospital—there should be no mistake about that—I grew increasingly restless nonetheless.
Just to be safe, I sent Tsune to place an automatic telephone call to the hospital.

As Tsune was leaving, Mr. T arrived.
After quickly hearing an overview of the symptoms, Mr. T conducted an examination.
“It came on terribly fast.
In any case, urgent treatment should be administered at the hospital immediately,” he said.

“Is his brain alright?”
“He won’t become an idiot...” Yoshiko said.

“There’s no need to worry about his brain,” Dr.T replied.

Through our conversation with Dr.T, we discovered he was a friend of Dr.S conducting research at the same university research institute.
This proved extremely fortuitous.
We entrusted all matters at U Hospital to Dr.T.
Dr.T injected camphor into Taka's right arm and left ahead of us.

We hurriedly made makeshift preparations.
I wrapped Taka in a blanket and then in a swaddling cloth, held him against my chest, and got into the car.
Taka was in a half-asleep state.
In the car, he had a mild convulsion once.
I lowered my eyes to the narrow confines of the car’s interior and pressed my lips to his forehead.

I arrived at the hospital at 3:30.
I was made to wait in the reception room for about two minutes.
Then I was guided to the sickroom.
It was a six-tatami-mat room on the second floor facing an inner courtyard - I found it reassuring that this wasn't a standard ward.

Taka's treatment was fully administered by a physician, female doctor,and head nurse.
A warm compress was applied to his abdomen.
I was thoroughly questioned by medical staff about every detail of Taka's medical history up to that point.
Taka had already lost consciousness.
Temperature:36.3°C,Pulse:100,Breaths:35.

Once all matters were temporarily settled, I finally composed myself.
And I grew stronger.
"He’ll definitely recover!" I thought.
The hospital housed many other patients.
Children were walking along the corridors.
Others rejoiced at being permitted their first bowl of gruel that day.

No convulsions occurred at all.
Instead, vomiting began.
A whitish mucus-like saliva slowly seeped from his mouth.
The doctor tilted his head.
No food or drink was administered—and then no medicine either.

Soon Ms.S came from home.
The attending nurse we had arranged with the hospital also arrived.

Taka was sleeping.

Around six o'clock, I asked Ms.S and returned home.

Yoshiko sat motionless, her eyes fixed on a single spot.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s the same.”

“Convulsions?”

“No. Instead, there was vomiting.”

“A lot?”

“No—just a little something like saliva.”

We hurriedly finished our meal.

Yoshiko also declared she would go to the hospital.
I stopped her.
Her body could go into labor at any moment.
Her body was already two weeks past the due date.
Being jostled around in something like a rickshaw was the most dangerous.

“Since it’s close by, I’ll walk slowly,” Yoshiko said.

I finally relented.
The two of us left the house.
It was a cloudy evening.

“I’ve already steeled myself.
Because this time, I had a feeling from the very start that it wouldn’t work out.”

Yoshiko possessed an uncannily sharp intuition.
She often predicted various things beforehand.

“Nonsense! He’ll be fine!” I said.
“If it doesn’t work, we’ll heal him through sheer willpower.”

We walked with our eyes fixed intently.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. When you truly set your mind to something, the body can handle more than you’d think.”

When we reached the hospital and entered the sickroom, Ms.S and the nurse we’d arranged were sitting there in silence.

While I’d been away, Dr.U had apparently returned to conduct an examination. Then they performed an intestinal lavage. With the vomiting present, no medication could be administered at all. They occasionally let saline solution drip onto his lips in small amounts. Taka swallowed it half-unconsciously.

That night, Yoshiko and I decided to stay.
There was a rule prohibiting men from staying overnight at the hospital, but a special exception was granted.

Ms.S had left.
And afterwards, Tsune came to deliver futon and swaddling clothes.
We decided to borrow the nurse’s futon from the hospital.

A little past 8:30 PM, Dr.U came to visit again.

“Could it be dysentery?” I asked.

“No—dysentery rarely occurs in infants under three or four years old.”
“It’s severe indigestion.”
“After prolonged indigestion, there are often cases where a sudden attack strikes during the recovery period.”

“He seems to have hardly any awareness.”

“Well…
“He’s presenting symptoms of poisoning.”
“Even if we call it poisoning, it’s not from food or anything like that.”
“The virus has invaded his brain.”

I no longer needed to hear anything more.
The words Dr. U spoke to the nurse about disinfecting the stool whatever the case may be also reached our ears.

However, we remained composed.
And we had no recourse but to depend on Dr.U.
Dr.U’s foreign-like appearance—his imposing physique, measured speech, and medical expertise that commanded professional respect—gave us ample reason to entrust him completely.

“I understand you’re acquainted with Dr.S,” remarked Dr.U.
“Dr.S’s child was also recently hospitalized with pneumonia.”

We grew stronger.
And that Dr.S had gone to Yokohama and was absent remained our only regret.

We took Taka's wrist and peered into his face.
Taka stared vacantly with wide-open eyes.
His eyes no longer converged.
Yet he seemed unable to see anything clearly.
There by his side, we found our own hearts constricted and helpless.
Time simply passed.

Around midnight that night, the nurse filled out the condition chart: Fever 38.2°C.
Pulse 120, respiration 42.
Vomiting: eight times; urine: twice; bowel movements: twice; intestinal lavage: once.

Around three o'clock, we had the nurse lie down.
She lay down to Taka’s left.
I lay down to Taka’s right.
Yoshiko remained awake at the bedside.
However, I couldn't sleep.
I took Yoshiko's place, but Yoshiko couldn't sleep either.

The sickroom was muggy.

And so the night passed into day.
The nurse placed a piece of gauze over Taka's face and cleaned the room thoroughly.
After finishing cleaning, she left the upper part of the window slightly open.
From there, the cool dim light of the cloudy morning flowed into the room.
But for us, that day too was one that continued directly from night.
Everything simply brightened, and the light of electric lamps gave way to sunlight filtering through clouds.
Taka lay staring vacantly with unconscious eyes.
He felt neither pain nor joy.
Occasionally his lips moved.
Each time, I gave him saline solution.
The way his mouth worked to swallow it filled me with unbearable joy as I watched.

An oppressive, stagnant day continued without relief.
The past revived itself directly toward the future—Taka had loved spinning tops.
I often spun them for him at home.
When he recovered, I thought I would bring one to his hospital room.—Whenever we went out, Taka would always trail behind.
He seemed convinced that anyone changing clothes must be going out.
Then he would point to his little coat hanging on the lintel nail.
He always wore it when going outside.
I resolved to hang that coat in his hospital room too.
—From our second-floor window at home, a corner of the cemetery was visible.
When I stood him by the window and said "Dear Buddha," Taka would press his small hands together.
Later, without prompting, he'd face the cemetery pagodas and clasp his hands.
The hospital windowsill stood just at the right height for him to grip and stand.
No cemetery could be seen from this window.
Instead, I imagined moonlit nights would show him the moon, while moonless ones would reveal a round lamp shining brightly across the way.

But between that past and future, a great void gaped open like a hole.
There, Taka lay still, having lost consciousness.
I sat at his bedside with my eyes closed.
Sitting became unbearable, so I lay down at length and cradled my head in both hands.

In the morning, medical staff came to check on him.
After nine o'clock, Dr. U conducted his examination.

“Any vomiting?” Dr. U asked the nurse.

“There hasn’t been a single episode since midnight.”

Dr. U stared fixedly at the patient’s face.
I asked nothing further.

From around ten o'clock, they decided to administer five grams of human milk every two hours.
The milk was expressed from a female doctor.
Along with that, medicine was administered before and after.
Occasionally, saline solution was given too.
Whenever liquid accumulated in his mouth, Taka would move his lips and readily swallow it.

Ms.S brought various supplies.
Around eleven o'clock, Yoshiko's father Mr.A came to visit—he had learned of Taka's illness when asked to send a servant for signing the hospitalization certificate.
Soon after, Yoshiko's midwife Ms.I arrived.
She had heard about it from Mr.A's household.
Ms.I was the same person who had delivered Taka at birth.
She peered anxiously at Taka's face and tilted her head.
Then she cast a worried glance at Yoshiko's condition too but kept silent about it.

“Why don’t you go home and rest for a while?” Yoshiko said.
“You’re the one who should sleep.”
“Try sleeping here.”

But that was nearly impossible.
Even returning home would have been dangerous for Yoshiko in her physical condition.
In the evening, Yoshiko decided to sleep, and I returned home to rest a little.

Tsune was alone doing some task.
I had a futon laid out in the tatami room and slept.
I couldn't sleep.
When I opened my eyes, the protective talisman wrapped in white paper and pasted on the pillar caught my attention.

On the fourteenth of the previous month, we had moved into that house.
The previous house in H-chō had been a gloomy home with poor sunlight, but this new house in S-chō was a bright two-story building with good sunlight.
Taka had nearly made a full recovery and was gradually growing stronger.
“This house is good for the child,” we said.
However, relatives later began voicing concerns about directional inauspiciousness.
First—wasn’t our moving direction aligned with the demon’s gate?
Second—while the upper toilet was fine, wasn’t the lower toilet positioned at the house’s demon’s gate?
Mr.A had brought an old large compass.
Upon examination, both directions were found deviating considerably north of the demon’s gate.
Even so—at their insistence—Uncle R made protective talismans called chintaku reifu and brought them over.
I pasted them onto the tatami room’s pillar.

I did not believe in Nine Star Divination or I Ching divination.
I believed everything was a matter of my own will.
"If there truly existed a supernatural law," I used to declare, "I would overcome it with my own will."

“That may be fine for you, but others without such strength might collapse,” Yoshiko said.
The long series of misfortunes had left even her spirited self greatly weakened.

“Nonsense! I’ll protect everyone in this house through sheer willpower,” I retorted.

But do I truly possess that power?

I lay awake thinking about such things.
I got up and walked around the house.
Then I went up to the second floor and opened the cupboard in the three-tatami-mat room.
There was my father’s new memorial tablet—he had died on the eleventh of this month last year, and we had just barely finished observing his first anniversary.
I lit candles and incense sticks before it.
Doing so felt completely natural to my mind at that time.
Taka too had often clasped his hands before it.

Under the Buddhist altar was a small box.
I tried opening it.
Inside were small straw sandals and a statue of Kishimojin.

In my family's home—in our ancestral rural home—children had never survived through the generations. All who succeeded the household had been adopted heirs. My grandfather had been the same. Though several children had been born to my grandfather, my father who succeeded him was not actually his biological child. He had been a child my grandmother bore under certain circumstances. My mother had worried about that. And she had been deeply concerned about Taka's prolonged illness, persistently urging me to visit Kishimojin, the deity she worshipped. So Yoshiko took Taka and made a pilgrimage to Kishimojin in Zōshigaya. She had received small straw sandals. He had become a child pledged to serve at Kishimojin's side for two years. He had to make a monthly pilgrimage.

Looking at those small straw sandals stirred heartrending emotions within me.
I came down from the second floor and slipped back into the futon.
"This being your principal year means nothing will go right no matter what you do.
You must stay perfectly still without moving." I recalled these words my mother had told me that summer when I returned home to the countryside.

Various invisible supernatural evils had enveloped me.
"I will conquer everything," I told myself.
But if, as people say, Taka were bearing the layers upon layers of my misfortunes...
"I will protect Taka with my own power.
Taka is my own!"
I told myself this, yet my heart trembled strangely.
The illness had been too sudden.
"I had a feeling from the start that this wouldn't work out..." Yoshiko had said.

In the midst of a heavy mood, I dozed for about an hour. When I opened my eyes, I couldn't stay still. I immediately rushed out of the house. The sight of Taka’s little coat hanging on the lintel of the room remained etched in the back of my eyes.

I wanted to walk around outside for a while. But before I knew it, I had already arrived at the hospital entrance. Taka lay still in the same manner as before.

“Are you all right?” I said.

“Huh?” Yoshiko looked up. Whether my question had been directed at Taka, who lay critically ill, or at the unborn child in her womb—she was perplexed.

“And how about you?”

“Yes,” Yoshiko said, smiling faintly for the first time.

From evening onward, Taka was given ten milliliters of human milk at a time.
The vomiting that Dr. U had been most worried about had completely ceased.

And even if it was just ten milliliters of human milk, if it stayed down, that alone was an immense blessing.
In the evening, they performed a saline enema, but almost none of it was absorbed and came right back out.
The fever, the pulse, and the respiration only continued to increase.
An ice bag was constantly applied to his head.
His forehead too was cooled with water.
However, his forehead was only cooled occasionally.
If continued even a little longer, it would immediately induce cyanosis.
No—mild cyanosis had already occurred.
When night came, cooling his forehead would quickly make his cheeks grow cold until his complexion seemed about to change.

His pulse began intermittently faltering.
A camphor injection was administered.
He began taking longer to drink ten milliliters of human milk.
After finishing it, he seemed utterly exhausted.

During Dr. U's night rounds, I said:

"Will his brain be all right? Even if he recovers, there won't be any... intellectual impairment, will there?"

"Yes, it's all right. It hasn't developed into meningitis."

I felt ashamed under Dr. U's steady gaze. It was no longer the time to be saying such things. But...

When Mr.T first came to visit before hospitalization, Yoshiko too had asked about that first. If he was going to end up mentally impaired anyway, we had wanted to let him die without suffering. But where had that resolve gone now?

“Just let him live!” I thought.

Yoshiko and I stared into each other's eyes.
Without saying a word, we stared into each other’s eyes.

However, while eating dinner in the dining room, we whispered such things.

“This is terrible.”

“Why on earth does it taste so terrible? I can’t eat a single bite of it.”

“Of course it’s cheap.”

“Even if there’s nothing to eat, it would still be better to have meals at home.”

The single word “home” immediately silenced us.

When night came, Yoshiko mentioned that her stomach felt slightly off.
I told you to go home immediately.

“Since it’s still not clear, I’ll wait a little longer to see how things go,” Yoshiko said.

Rain began to fall.
The sound of rain deepened the silence within the hospital.

Taka’s swallowing function also seemed to be gradually weakening.
He could no longer drink ten milliliters of human milk all at once and would stop halfway.
Swallowing the liquid that had pooled in his mouth seemed to require tremendous effort.
We didn’t know what to do.
Not giving him anything meant there was no hope of recovery, yet giving him anything seemed to cause Taka pain.
Even so… we still had to occasionally give him human milk and saline solution.
We no longer administered any medicine.

And yet, on Taka’s face, there was not the slightest expression of pain.
There was even a shadow of an awkward smile.
I remembered that face—the face that had momentarily licked Yoshiko’s nipple in some odd manner and smiled awkwardly.
Recently, even when pressed with a breast, Taka would turn his face away and make no attempt to suck.

Late at night, I stared fixedly at the nurse's condition chart.

Morning — Temperature 8.2 degrees, pulse 128 beats per minute, respiration 44 breaths per minute,

Afternoon — Temperature 8.4 degrees, pulse 136 beats per minute, respiration 42 breaths per minute,

Evening — Temperature 9.4 degrees, pulse 134 beats per minute, respiration 52 breaths per minute,

Night — Temperature 9.2 degrees, pulse 140 beats per minute, respiration 45 breaths per minute,

Urine twice; bowel movements five times; nausea twice; camphor injections twice; intestinal infusion once; human milk: five milliliters three times, ten milliliters three times.

I threw myself down on the futon spread there.
And tried not to think about anything.
That was not a cowardly attitude.
And I dozed off.

When I suddenly opened my eyes, Yoshiko was sitting still, leaning against a small desk.
She wore an expression of extreme tension.

“Is it happening?”
“Yes, it seems so.”

Yoshiko went to the bathroom.

“As I thought, it seems so.”

“Then you should go home right away.”

“Yes.”
And Yoshiko stared fixedly at the corner of the room.

I woke the nurse who had been sleeping.

The nurse got up and went into the telephone room.
I followed after her.
It was already one o'clock.
The rickshaw driver was hard to rouse.
Even so, he finally managed to get up.
I urgently requested two rickshaws.

Yoshiko was already feeling light contractions.
She pressed her lips to Taka’s forehead.
Taka seemed to be asleep.
Or perhaps he was awake.

I took Yoshiko’s arm.
We descended the hushed hospital staircase step by step.
The nurse opened the front door for us.
I sent her back to the sickroom immediately.

The rain had cleared up.
Outside, the pitch-black darkness stood crystal clear.
While leaning against my arm in the entranceway, Yoshiko clenched my hand tight.

“Please... about our boy... about our boy... I leave him in your care,” Yoshiko said.

“Ah, it’ll be fine.”

“Please keep holding his hand tight, okay?”

The scene of Taka's death projected itself clearly in our hearts.

The rickshaw had not yet come.
I went outside to check.
When I peered through the dimly lit, hushed street, the light of a rickshaw stand's lantern became visible ahead.

“Has it arrived?”

“Ah, any moment now.”

Yoshiko grabbed my hand again.

“About our boy...
“And Taka… please.”

In lieu of a reply, I held her tightly.

The rickshaw drivers arrived immediately.
“To S Town,” I said and led Yoshiko out.

One of the rickshaw drivers stared intently at us.

“Oh, it was Madam?”

“Ah, Mr. Y?”

One of them was Y, the rickshaw stand owner who had long known us.
He knew both our relatives’ houses and Midwife I’s residence.
This was convenient.
So I decided to have him go to Midwife I’s house.
Yoshiko boarded the young man’s rickshaw.
And silently bowed her head before me.

I stood outside and watched the two rickshaws separate right and left as they raced away.
Then I closed the front door.
When I returned to the sickroom, I had the nurse secure the entrance.

I sat alone at Taka's bedside.
Then I closed my eyes tightly.

I wasn't worried about Yoshiko.
Everything had been completely prepared beforehand.
At home were Ms.S and Tsune.
Midwife I had always been waiting for us to call her from our home.
She reportedly had no other pressing matters at the time.
Moreover, though the birth was delayed by nearly twenty days from the expected date, Midwife I said there was nothing to worry about.
Midwife I possessed both capable skills and a sharp mind.
Moreover, arrangements had been made beforehand that in case of a difficult birth, the director of S Hospital would be summoned immediately.

Even so, my heart flew toward home. And then I fixed my gaze on Taka. Even to myself, this felt excruciating. "What is this? Such a small matter!" I said. I pressed my lips to Taka's forehead. Tears welled up for the first time. With those tears, I grew stronger. Yoshiko is my other half. There's no need to worry about my own half—I told myself this. Yoshiko's anguished heart and labor pains reverberated through me. Then, with my entire being, I managed to remain seated at Taka's bedside.

I insisted and had the nurse lie down against her will.

The night stood silent without a single sound.
Time seemed to freeze completely.
When I shut my eyes tight, Taka's whole being materialized before me.

I had anchored my hopes for the future in Taka's mind.
From birth, he refused any nipple but his mother's breast—rubber teats he utterly rejected.
With toys too, his preferences stood absolute.
Some objects he would never touch.
Others he clung to obsessively once grasped.
At night he'd sometimes burst into sudden tears.
No amount of milk or cradling could calm him then.
We later understood why.
There was always some daytime treasure still in his grip.
Taking it away silenced his cries—he'd sleep clutching it tight. Strangers never earned his smile.
Unknown faces coaxing made him turn sharply away. He often lapsed into peculiar silences.
I regularly bought him Engei Gahō magazines.
His small hands would flip through them endlessly.
These past few months showed he understood our every word.
Harsh words between his mother and me about spiritual matters made him weep.
Our cheerful talks filled him with joy.

However, since he had been almost continuously ill, his physical development was completely delayed.
We marveled at how he had managed to hold on.
Moreover, even with the high fever, his mind did not seem affected at all.
The whites of his eyes remained clear and blue.
Though he was already one year and ten months old, his poor development meant he couldn't speak, but he would usually indicate each time he needed to urinate.
He often seemed to be trying to form words.
And then, for some reason, he became terribly afraid of the masseur's flute.
Even when giggling and playing, whenever he heard the masseur's flute, he would immediately bury his face in his mother's chest.

But where had that Taka himself gone now?
……I peered steadily into Taka’s face.
He was sleeping with a peaceful expression.
Gauze soaked in boric acid solution had been placed over his eyes—there was a slight problem with the corneas.
I removed the gauze for him.
Taka dazedly opened his eyes and moved his lips as if in delight.
When I immediately gave him saline solution, he swallowed it.

I quietly stood up to replace the ice in the ice bag and brought a cup containing ten grams of human milk.
Next to the washroom sat a small box labeled "No. 8," containing ice for Taka’s hospital room, human milk, and medicine.
The surrounding air hung cold.

The ten grams of human milk I had given him at three o'clock, Taka drank well.
I was happy.

As I sat motionless, I was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of not knowing what to do. My entire body was pulled toward Taka by some great force. I wanted to hold Taka tightly, tightly in my arms, against my chest. Taka's entirety—all of it—was mine. He was my own. Even without consciousness or anything else—it was fine. Both suffering and joy—Taka melted into my chest. Something enormous was dragging me relentlessly toward Taka. ……I clenched my lips tightly, resisting that force. My vision began to blur. And suddenly, something snapped. I sat there blankly like an idiot, staring fixedly at Taka's breathing. And spontaneously, my breathing fell into rhythm with Taka's rapid breaths. There was nothing I could do. I couldn't bear it anymore. I threw myself down there and clawed at my head.

When that seizure of the heart passed, I found my mind deeply and profoundly settled into stillness.
I touched the ice bag and checked the pulse at Taka's wrist.

Around four o'clock, I suddenly felt that Taka's breathing had quickened. When I counted, there were fifty-seven. A sense of unease began to grow.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to channel my very life into Taka's body.

Night turned to dawn before I knew it.

The nurse cleaned the room.
I ate the unpalatable cafeteria food.
The medical staff came in the morning and administered a camphor injection.
They administered a nutrient infusion into the intestines, but almost none was absorbed.

Around eight o'clock, Midwife I came to visit us.
I saw that face and breathed a sigh of relief.
Everything became clear.

“It was a safe delivery.”
“At 3:30 this morning—a baby girl.”
“Both are in good health.”

Midwife I's voice was low.
Ah, why was there any need to lower her voice?
But my voice was also low.

“Thank you very much for your guidance.”

Midwife I stared at the medical chart, then peered into Taka’s face.

“Shall I remove them for you?”
With those words, Midwife I removed the gauze from Taka’s eyes.
For some reason, that made me happy, and tears welled up.

“Young master, young master. Can you see?”
Midwife I moved her face closer, then farther away.
Taka seemed unable to see anything anymore.
After some time, Midwife I left.

After a while, Mr. A came to visit.
Ms. S came again before long.
“Once the examination is finished, she asked that you come back for a moment,” Ms. S conveyed Yoshiko’s words to me.

At nine o'clock, Dr. U made his rounds.
I didn't ask anything else.
When the examination concluded, I stepped out into the hallway intending to return home.

“You must already understand this, but given how his condition is progressing, there’s truly nothing more we can do.”
“He may reach critical danger tonight.”
“You should plan to stay by his side starting this afternoon.”

I wasn't surprised in the least.
Those words too stirred no resonance within my heart.
I simply bowed my head in gratitude.

I rushed home.
Mr. T had come and was there for us.

I immediately entered the eight-tatami room.
Yoshiko lay still staring fixedly at my face.
I peered into the small futon beside Yoshiko.
And I startled.
There lay a baby's face identical to Taka's.
It was sleeping peacefully.

I sat at Yoshiko's bedside.
I firmly gripped Yoshiko's hand sticking out from the futon.
Powerful, indescribable tears welled up.

We remained silent for some time.

“How was it? Was it painful?” I said.

“Yes.
“Though the labor pains were intense, it went quickly instead.”
“At three-thirty.
“I kept holding Ms. S’s hand.”

When Taka was born, Yoshiko had been holding my hand.

After some time, Yoshiko spoke.

“How was he?”
“He’s much the same as before—no real change.”

After some time, Yoshiko spoke again.

"It wasn't good, was it?"

I kept my gaze fixed on Yoshiko's eyes.
They were clear and bright eyes that seemed to have her spirit stretched taut.

After a moment, I said.

“He’s still hanging on.”
“But we must brace ourselves.”

Yoshiko nodded.

“When I was leaving, Dr. U said tonight would be critical.”

Yoshiko nodded again.

“Listen.
“The time has truly come when we must be resolute.”
“This is what I always meant when I said we must nurture the resolve to remain composed no matter what comes our way.”
“You often said our undertaking was a matter of life and death from the very start.”
“We must keep a firm hold on that resolve.”
“Especially you—your physical state is critical now.”
“Even if you’ve grown oversensitive, you mustn’t let emotional agitation take hold.”
“Listen—you understand this, don’t you?”

My voice was low, but my words came out as if I were shouting.
Yoshiko silently nodded.
After some time, I peered into the baby's face again.
I touched its cheek with my fingertips.
It was as soft as silk.

Yoshiko smiled a smile that was strained beyond description.
At that moment, I found myself counting the days.
Taka's birthday had been January 11th.
Exactly two hundred eighty-odd days had passed from that day to today.
A feeling neither auspicious nor ominous welled up within me.
Yet I grew resolute.
I gripped my hand tightly.

I went to the next room and talked with Mr. T for some time. Upon hearing about Taka's condition, Mr. T pressed his lips together tightly.
"I'll come again," Mr. T said as he was leaving.

“Ah… But he’s okay.”
“Even if he doesn’t make it through tonight—”
“No—tomorrow’s dawn might bring danger,” I said.

I lay sprawled in the room staring at the ceiling.

"You!" Yoshiko said.

“What?”
“Hurry to the hospital.”

“Right.”

Even so, I remained motionless for some time.
And shortly after eleven, I left the house.

“When I return this time, I might be carrying Taka back—if we take a rickshaw, that’s how it’ll be.”

Yoshiko nodded.

“Listen.”
Saying that, I peered into Yoshiko’s eyes.
“You understand, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Yoshiko answered firmly.

I went outside.

Thin clouds drifted across the sky.
The sunlight dimmed intermittently.

Taka and the newborn merged into a single entity that hung over me. One was death, and one was life. Both were love. Those two sides spun around and around. I grew dizzy. Then suddenly, those two flew off into the distance. I saw an inexplicably strange version of myself. And at that moment—the figure of Taka holding a festival lantern and leaping about—the figure of Taka flashed vividly through my mind. It'll get better, it'll get better—that's what I screamed in my heart. No matter what happens, I'll endure it without flinching—I screamed that too.

Near the hospital, I encountered Mr.A coming toward my house.
I simply bowed my head.
At the hospital entrance, I encountered Mr.T.
Mr.T greeted me from under his thick nearsighted glasses.

“I’ll attend the examination immediately.”

I grew resolute.

When I entered the sickroom, Taka still lay quietly.
Taking his wrist, I could barely feel any pulse at my fingertips.
He breathed rapidly with huffing gasps.

I clenched my lips and closed my eyes.

Shortly after twelve, a doctor and a female doctor came to visit.

“There’s nothing to be done,” the doctor said.
“Because I can barely feel a pulse in his wrist.”

A camphor injection was administered to his chest.
There was almost no reaction.
When I examined the injection site after some time, there was a small raised bump where the camphor had been injected but remained unabsorbed.

“The heart has weakened.”

The weakening had begun around yesterday evening.
I wondered why they hadn’t started with a Digalen injection first, but it likely couldn’t have been done anymore.

“If there’s anyone you need to notify…”

I heard those words at that time.
But I answered, “No.”
In truth, there were some relatives and friends I should have notified, but I didn’t want a crowd of people coming under such circumstances.
If possible, I would have wanted to send even the nurses and Ms. S away.
I just wanted to be alone with Taka.

The nurse filled out the condition chart.

Morning—Temperature 39.3°C, Pulse 134, Respiration 54.

Afternoon—Temperature 39.1°C, Pulse 154, Respiration 56.

Bowel movements: 2 instances; Nausea: 1 instance; Camphor injections: 3 times; Nutrient enema: 1 instance; Human milk: 10 grams ×2.

There was almost nothing more that could be done.
Oppressive and sightless time passed by.
How insignificant my cries and willpower had been before this great force relentlessly pushing forward without a moment's pause.
But wasn't all of that mine as well?

Mr.T also came for rounds.

“There’s truly nothing more to be done,” Mr.T said.

At one o'clock, Dr.U made a special visit.
I didn't say anything more.
Dr.U remained silent too.
We simply bowed low.

I stared fixedly at Taka's gasping breath.
“Boy! Boy!” I cried out in my heart.
That was what I always called Taka when he was newborn.
Then after a while, I repeated “Taka! Taka!” silently.
Within me, I felt Taka receding farther and farther away.
I kept gripping his hand tightly.
Neither hope nor despair remained within me.
The core of my body began prickling with sweat.

When the attending nurse stood up and left, the doctor and head nurse entered.

“This is the end,” the doctor said.

I couldn't comprehend it.
I clenched my lips.

After a while, Taka's gasping breath drew out one long breath. Then, with a sudden stop, his breathing ceased entirely.
As I stared fixedly, a faint, strange creaking sound like something being squeezed came softly from within his chest.

A small cup filled with water, accompanied by a brush, was brought in.
I used that to moisten Taka’s lips.
I moistened them for him.

“This is so tragic…” the nurse said.

Ms.S cried out loud.

Something indescribable welled up from the depths of my chest.
Tears streamed down my face.
How I had loved Taka!
And how inadequately I had loved him!

I knew almost nothing of what happened afterward.
In the room, only I, Ms. S, and the attending nurse remained.
A white cloth had been placed over Taka's face.
As I stared fixedly, the futon's collar appeared to move as if still breathing.
When I removed the white cloth, Taka's eyes were slightly open.
He was smiling.
The forehead was still warm.
The nurse rubbed the eyelids and tried to close the eyes.
The eyes remained slightly open no matter what.
"That's better," I said.
The white cloth was placed over him again.
The face with calm, dark eyes slightly opened in a smile was vividly engraved in my mind.

We remained sitting as we were.
Ms.S kept pressing the handkerchief to her face.
I endured steadfastly.

At that moment, Mr.Y came to visit us.
When I stepped out to the entranceway, my entire face suddenly spasmed, leaving me unable to speak.
Mr.Y had mistaken Taka for Yoshiko.
I finally explained about Taka—that he had passed away.
And I had him leave at the entrance.

Due to matters concerning the burial permit, I had to go to the ward office and the police station.
I considered sending a servant but decided to go myself.
I received from the medical office a death certificate stating "Taisho 6, October 21st at 1:45 PM, Death due to severe indigestion."

The rickshaw drivers arrived.
A familiar proprietor also arrived.

I had the proprietor rush to notify relatives of the death.
Then I rode in a young man's rickshaw to the ward office and police station to obtain the burial permit.
I chose his burial site as the cemetery in our hometown where my father had been buried the previous year.

When I returned, the nurse had thoroughly cleansed Taka's body and prepared it.
Ms.S had finished packing the belongings and was staying by his side.
I went to thank the doctor and head nurse.
Dr.U happened to be in the reception room downstairs.

“That’s terribly unfortunate,” Dr. U said.

“I am deeply grateful for everything you’ve done.”

I bowed my head respectfully.

There was a notification that the rickshaw drivers had arrived.
I held Taka to my chest.
Taka lay there with his small hands folded on his chest.

The rickshaws were positioned at the back gate.
I boarded the lead rickshaw and lowered its hood.
The luggage was loaded onto the following one.
Ms.S took the last rickshaw.
And we departed through the back gate.

That Taka had died—I simply couldn't bring myself to accept it.
When I removed the white cloth from his face, his eyes were slightly open and smiling.
I clutched him to my chest and pressed my lips to his face.
It was cold.
A coldness beyond knowing.
I kept my lips pressed tight as if to draw that cold into myself.
A frigid shudder coursed through my body.
Then suddenly I felt it—a sacred terror.
I covered Taka's face with the white cloth again.
It felt like flesh had been torn from within my chest.

And that was supremely sacred.
I closed my eyes.

When we arrived home, I went to Yoshiko’s room still holding Taka.
My eyes fell first on the baby's face.

While trembling throughout my whole body, I met Yoshiko's eyes.
Yoshiko's tense gaze pierced my chest.

“What time?” Yoshiko said.

“1:45 PM!” I answered.

I carried Taka to Yoshiko.
Yoshiko, still lying down, took him into her arms.
She removed the white cloth from his face and stared intently.
There lay his smiling face, still lifelike.
Then when she saw the small hands clasped on his chest, Yoshiko suddenly crushed him against herself.
She clenched her teeth as tears streamed down her face.

“Boy, boy!” Yoshiko said.
“Why didn’t you die while Mommy was here!”
“Boy, boy!”

I sat down beside her and grasped Yoshiko’s shoulder.
She turned her tear-soaked face toward me.
I peered into those eyes.

“Taka has come back to us!” I said.

Yoshiko nodded.

I took Taka back into my arms.

Mr. A and Uncle R arrived.
I had everyone shown into the next room and closed the sliding paper door in between.
I had Tsune lay out a futon.
And still holding Taka, I got into that futon.
The baby was sleeping on a small futon spread out in the middle of the room.
On the other side, Yoshiko lay with her face pressed into the pillow.

I hugged Taka tightly.
I pressed my lips against his cold forehead again.
A shudder from sinister, unfathomable depths ran through my entire body.

After some time, I quietly got up while leaving Taka lying there.
Yoshiko was watching me steadfastly.
And we met each other's tear-dried, tense eyes.