Pathway to Japanese Literature

Happiness is something you never know when or where it might come drifting in from.
The crucial thing is to skillfully seize it.

That morning, as I dawdled lazily in bed late into the day, a spiderling came gliding down from the ceiling.
Along a thread so faint it might not exist, a tiny spiderling lighter than wind slipped through the stagnant room air and descended smoothly, nearly grazing my face as it fell.
At a delicate sensation—one that might have been imagined—I suddenly opened my eyes to find the ash-white spiderling curled within its whirling limbs as it reeled in its thread, floating two or three feet above my face. Even as I watched it gradually rise upward, it had already vanished from sight.
At that moment, I thought: This must be a good omen.
Later reflection brought vague memories—morning spiders bring luck, ceiling-descending ones portend ill—but what mattered was that momentary belief in auspiciousness had proven fortunate.
For though it defied logic, I couldn't shake the conviction that this very superstition had somehow delivered Uncle's letter into my hands.
Less than an hour later, Uncle's letter did indeed arrive.

I took out the Western-style envelope from the desk drawer.
When I checked inside, sure enough, fifty 10-yen bills were neatly contained.
When I placed the bundle on my palm, it felt light yet somehow carried a substantial weight within that lightness.
I pulled out one of them and closely examined it.
I thought the back side, completely patterned, was far better than the front with its printed crowned figure and shrine.
Then, the overall color and paper quality were extremely good.
When I pulled it with both hands or flicked it with my fingernails, it produced a dense, resilient sound.
Finally, I casually held it up to the sunlight.
Then, beneath the Arabic numeral 10 printed there, the 5-7 paulownia crest distinctly emerged.
It had been embedded within the paper so as to remain invisible from both front and back.
I grew even happier at this unexpected discovery.
To me, who had never handled money beyond what was necessary, those bills that had suddenly come into my possession even began to seem like precious toys.
In any case, with these fifty paper slips embedded with the 5-7 paulownia crest, I felt that something quite interesting could be obtained.

I put it back into the Western-style envelope, then—just to be sure, no—to be absolutely sure—I read Uncle’s letter once more.
No matter how many times I read it, it remained unchanged.
"With utmost respect, I pray for your ever-increasing prosperity..."
The usual formulaic phrases beginning with such courtesies came first, but what amused me was how it shifted into an oddly self-deprecating tone with lines like "I am utterly ashamed of my inability to sufficiently fulfill my duties in ordinary times..."
After Father’s death, I had been receiving forty yen monthly for living expenses from Mother back home, but since this proved woefully inadequate, I would occasionally request additional support from Uncle.
Though Uncle—who always sent funds without complaint—hardly dwelled in states of extreme shame, I felt I understood perfectly why he had written those words.
I could almost see Uncle’s face brimming with proud magnanimity as he penned: "Having unexpectedly obtained certain profits on this occasion, and desiring to share said joy with your esteemed self, I send forth 500 yen—though as a New Year’s gift this arrives most belatedly—pray accept it regardless..."
Truthfully, one finds no New Year’s gifts once fresh greenery season arrives, but since this came from Uncle—who had always cherished me as his own child—I resolved to accept it unconditionally as such.
Yet Uncle had appended one delightful condition.
It stipulated using the money "for study purposes rather than living expenses or other needless expenditures," expressing hope that "success might arrive at the earliest possible hour."
It amused me how he’d lumped living expenses among unnecessary costs, and equally how he urged me—an artist—to achieve success.

I rolled up the letter and put it away, then set the five hundred yen before me once more. And so I began to ponder.
When given complete freedom to use it as I wished, I found myself at a loss for suitable purposes.
Though I'd been living austerely, I had no debts to speak of nor any particular necessities lacking.
Struggling for ideas, I absently looked around the room—the low table, chairs, desk, bookshelf, paint box, canvases, picture frames—all seemed perfectly content in their impoverished state.
"He who knows contentment is rich," came to mind, making these fifty bills embedded with the 5-7 paulownia crest feel all the more precious.
Helplessly—helplessly from joy—I raised both knees and cradled the money in my hands, beginning to sway my body gently on the flesh of my buttocks.
Before I knew it, my eyes were gazing upward at the ceiling.
From that very ceiling, a spiderling had come gliding down!
I pressed my lips together to contain the smile threatening to break free and whistled.
It was exhilarating.
I couldn't keep still.

I started to stand up but sat back down.
A creation began taking shape in my mind.
The self-portrait hanging on the wall and da Vinci’s Mona Lisa served as catalysts, and the love hidden deep within my heart was beginning to take concrete form.
In the backlighting that made my yellowish self-portrait stand out, I had meant to capture the anguished will and hopes of a youth battling poverty. Yet now when I looked closely, that expression seemed mere melancholy; staring longer still, it struck me as nothing but sentimentality.
There should have been something more powerful and invigorating even amidst the struggle.
As for the Mona Lisa, I wanted more movement in that intimidating background.
That serenity of hers, with hands clasped and a mysterious smile, also left me feeling somehow unsatisfied.
I will bestow upon her deep dreams and leaping joy!
At that thought, my chest began to quiver strangely.
My beloved, my beloved... how overflowing with love she must be!

Even the name Shizuko had such a beautiful ring to it.
I stood up, opened the window, and gazed out.
The late spring light enveloped the house where she lived.
The roof tiles shone like scales, each glinting.
In a corner of the garden visible over the plank fence, from between the darkened greens of pine and cypress, a graceful maple branch stretched out, unfurling adorable young leaves.

The joy of fresh greenery and love overflowed in my chest.
I felt an impulse I could not help expressing.
I would have her pose.
And I would create a masterpiece.
I resolved to use the 500 yen for that purpose.
This also aligned most perfectly with Uncle’s intentions.

The moment I glimpsed this radiant path, I couldn't wait another instant.
I stuffed both the Western-style envelope containing five hundred yen and my small clasp purse into my breast pocket.
Then, to purchase paints, brushes, canvases—everything anew—I pulled a blue soft hat down over my eyes and left home.

The fact that I carried money in a Western-style envelope—more than could fit in my clasp purse—felt strangely amusing yet delightful.
In the train car, as I listened to the roaring rumble of wheels beneath me, an absurd laugh suddenly seized me.
The muscles in my cheeks began twitching involuntarily, and I found myself chuckling under my breath.
The people sitting across watched me with curious stares.
When I glared back, among them was a middle-aged man with a sallow complexion—likely malnourished—furrowing his brow and blinking pitifully.
I nearly burst into raucous laughter.
To suppress it, I hid my face beneath the hat's brim and bit my lip.
Wave after wave of laughter kept rising up, my cheek muscles twitching in a way that felt unbearably ticklish.

When I went to Bundo-do, Cambridge paints were abundantly stocked in just the varieties I needed. What I had been seeking to paint her was this very pigment—the most colorfast perfection available. I selected thirteen or fourteen varieties of those studio tubes, choosing between two to five tubes per color depending on hue. Then I purchased three sheets of No. 40 French-made premium canvas—the exact size I required for a half-length portrait. A whole new set of brushes joined my haul too. On my return journey, when I stopped at a frame shop, there it waited: the single frame that perfectly matched my vision.

To pay for these costs, I took out the Western-style envelope from my pocket and casually pulled out the bills.
When I noticed, the clerk was staring fixedly at my hands.
I felt slightly awkward.
When I first received the five hundred yen at the bank, I had absentmindedly taken out my clasp purse from my pocket, but finding the bundle of bills too bulky, I hurriedly stuffed the purse back inside and fled clutching the money in my hand.
And so I had ended up feeling awkward twice over.
I thought about buying a fine leather wallet.
But I didn't know how much that might cost, nor did I want to spend this delightful money on such a thing.

When I returned home, there remained over 270 yen in the Western-style envelope.
I carefully stored it in the bookcase drawer.

I took out a Shikishima cigarette I had bought on the way and inhaled deeply into my chest.
Amidst the thick smoke exhaled from my mouth and nose, a single thread of purple smoke rose steadily from the cigarette's tip.
An indescribably pleasant sensation washed over me.
Soon I tossed aside the cigarette and once again arranged the paint tubes and brushes across my desk, gazing at them intently.
Eventually my eyes came to rest on the Mona Lisa's canvas.
The high forehead with its faint eeriness and those deep upturned eyes bore a striking resemblance to Shizuko.
Yet the lower half differed markedly.
Shizuko's nose was shorter, her mouth smaller, her cheeks fuller, with a radiant smile that seemed perpetually in motion.
Looking back at the Mona Lisa now, the long nose ending in its sturdy tip and the intellectual chin appeared oddly rigid.
The shading around that enigmatic smile made her mouth look almost fox-possessed.
Da Vinci must never have seen a woman truly under a kitsune's spell.
The thought made me laugh aloud to myself.

I lay in the room for a long time, indulging in my own fantasies.

When the landlady brought in the dinner tray, I leapt up in surprise.

"My, what are you getting so flustered about?"

I stood rooted in place, looking down at the landlady's face. Her face—waiting for an answer while gauging my state—had a pointed mouth and forehead creased with wrinkles. To conceal that I found it amusing, I scratched my head.

"You're acting strange today," said the landlady as she approached the desk. "Oh my, so many paints... Ah, I see! So that's why you're so delighted, like a child!"

I said with a grin.

“They should be delivering one picture frame shortly, so please take care of accepting it.”

“Yes.”
“Are you working on a large painting?”

I simply answered with a smile.
When I finished painting Shizuko’s portrait, how astonished the landlady would be! And then...

At that moment, I felt as if I were abruptly being pulled backward.
Would she really pose for me?
Would her father permit that?

I was appalled at my own carelessness.
Even as I gathered paints, canvas, and even a picture frame—even while painting her portrait in my mind—I had not once considered whether she would agree to pose.
I truly must have been out of my mind.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be at all.

I considered asking the Landlady to intervene, but that seemed likely to backfire instead.
However, there was no way I could go negotiate it myself.
After all my wavering, I resolved that when I met Shizuko, I would explain the situation and get her consent.

However, I found it quite difficult to seize that opportunity.

The house where I was boarding and her house stood three in a row with one between them, their back entrances sharing a common path. I had specially bought morning glory seeds to sow by the back fence, fussing with the soil and watering them repeatedly while squandering time in this dawdling manner, yet Shizuko never once appeared.

I began finding my own figure somehow pitiful. Both joy and sorrow started feeling like trifling things. Then one day, crouching again at the back entrance, I stared vacantly at the ground. Against the backdrop of fathomless blue sky, Shizuko's form drifted into my mind like a cloud—ethereal yet distinct. I kept my mental gaze fixed upon it, feeling as though I were dreaming. Sensing something odd, I suddenly turned around and gasped. A kimono in storehouse indigo with faintly embossed chrysanthemums blocked my vision. Looking up, there she truly stood—head tilted slightly, eyes narrowed as if against bright light while smiling.

I stood up.
In that split second, I couldn't speak.

"What are you doing?"

I still couldn't speak.
She too fell silent after that.
After a while, I finally swallowed my saliva and spoke.

“I sowed morning glory seeds, but they just won’t sprout.”

It was an answer that had taken too much time.
My composure became strangely disjointed.
She approached silently.
On slender shoulders, a large chignon swayed heavily.
She peered toward the fence.

There, the Landlady came out from the back door carrying laundry.
When she spotted us, her chatter erupted.

“Mr. Kikawa, you’re being ridiculous! You sowed those morning glory seeds, then kept coming out time after time as if they’d sprout that very day, glaring at the ground in a staring contest—aren’t you acting just like a child? Because you’re being so absurd—even though I told you seeds don’t sprout in a day or two—you simply wouldn’t deign to listen, would you? You’re such a spoiled young master. You buy paints and gleefully line them up on your desk… Does painting really make you that happy about mere pigments? Even we feel pleased when getting new fabric bolts, mind you.”

Shizuko listened to this exchange with a puzzled look on her face.
Excluded from their exchange, I first felt awkwardly idle, then increasingly irritated, until I silently retreated into the house.

When I entered the house, I suddenly began to regret everything. Yet even so, I couldn't bring myself to go back outside. To make matters worse, that hard-won opportunity had already been destroyed by the Landlady's interference.

From my room window, I gazed across at Shizuko's house. Beyond the neighboring garden's wooden fence, glimpses of her family's yard appeared intermittently. A pine tree stood sentinel by the gate, followed after some distance by a maple and cypress; along the fence line, low camellias and tall azaleas spread their luxuriant foliage upward from the garden soil, completely blocking my line of sight.

How wonderful it would be if Shizuko would appear there, I thought. But mere wishing changed nothing.

I even considered mustering the resolve to invite Shizuko to my house, but could find no plausible pretext.
Last autumn, after I had given her a ticket to the Taiheiyo Art Association exhibition, Shizuko had come to visit my room three or four times.
But somehow, I found myself unable to ask her to come again now.
Moreover, if I kept waiting for her to come to me, there was no telling how long it might take.

I was completely at a loss.
If Shizuko wouldn't pose for me, then even the Cambridge paints and French canvases would serve no purpose.
Feeling like I was merely clinging to useless treasure while growing increasingly impatient and irritable, I alternated between lying in my room and pacing the streets.
I couldn't focus on anything.
I could think of nothing but her.
When I dwelled on it too much, my chest would tremble violently and grow painful.

I must have been in love with her.
I had fallen in love without even being aware of it.
Otherwise, I never would have ended up like that back then.

That time—it had been a strangely muggy day from morning onward, but as evening approached, the air turned abruptly chilly, and following a brief flare of vivid afterglow, darkness fell in haste.
I gazed uneasily at this rushed evening devoid of twilight's glow, but after dinner, having lingered awhile, I fell into a strangely dreamlike state and wandered out for a walk.

The direct cause of the dreamlike feeling was the tobacco smoke.
I was absentmindedly watching where the smoke drifted as I exhaled cigarette smoke.
Then, the smoke that usually danced upward rose about a foot high—for some reason this time—swayed unsteadily as if about to collapse, spread out horizontally, then curled back in a cascading motion before vanishing entirely.
Such an occurrence was rare.
Not just rare—it was the first time in my experience.
As I watched, I sank into a quiet, quiet, serene realm where not a single rustling sound could be heard.
Everything became a dreamlike world, as if shrouded in veils.
I couldn’t remain still in the room.

When I stepped outside, thick fog completely enveloped the surroundings.
In the darkness, countless silver dashes tangled chaotically to create a hazy brightness.
The layers of brightness were so densely packed that just a couple of meters ahead, objects' shapes had already blurred into indistinctness, leaving nothing visible.
Within the gray-white haze, a ponderous yet frigid atmosphere enveloping dull silver needles formed deep vortices around the streetlamp as it drifted aimlessly.
As I walked, even my own footsteps became blurred like a dream until it felt as if I had ascended into clouds.
Only my upper body was clearly reflected in my consciousness; everything else had submerged into a blurred, invisible world.

"The world of sleepwalkers might be like this," I thought while staring vacantly with wide eyes and wandering through fog-filled back alleys. The further I walked, the thicker the fog seemed to grow. A square space of about six feet formed my entire world, drifting along with each step I took. I felt as though I carried my own world upon myself. This realization set my heart dancing. Delight filled me. Had I shouted aloud, someone might have answered from some distant beyond. What if that voice had been Shizuko's... My thoughts gradually sank into longing fantasies.

It was definitely a quiet street where one side formed the stone wall of a large mansion. As I moved forward slowly, something pure white suddenly floated into view from ahead with tremendous speed. I had nearly collided head-on with it, so I stopped in surprise. I felt as though there’d been no time to dodge. Then, the pure white form remained floating in the fog, refusing to draw near to me. Just as I thought it strange, I saw a large jet-black chignon. Her round, wide-open eyes glistened faintly. Shizuko! The moment I thought that, a ridiculously loud voice rang out. I couldn’t make sense of it. When I came to my senses, Shizuko was standing rigidly right before my eyes.

I didn't know what to do.
I just stood there silently.
It was a strange stretch of time that felt both endless and fleeting.
Then suddenly, she abruptly clung to my arm.
She was breathing heavily.

“I was so scared… I was truly startled.”

It was a voice that seemed to echo from afar.
I peered into her face and asked.

“What’s wrong?”

“But you were standing silent right in the middle of the road.”
“With this fog, you wouldn’t know who it was unless you came close, would you?”
“…Did you know I’d pass through here and wait for me?”

“Yes, yes,” I nearly blurted out.
For those past two or three days, I had indeed been desperately waiting for a chance to meet her—to meet her and speak properly.
Her words pierced straight through my chest.
I felt completely untethered.

“Shizuko!” I said.
I didn’t know how to continue.
I forced the words out anyway.
“I’d truly been waiting.”
“Please forgive me.”
“There was something I absolutely had to tell you.”
“I became so happy—so lovesick—that I didn’t know what to do anymore.”
“I…”

I didn't understand what I was saying myself.
I simply felt compelled to keep talking incessantly.
Then, for some reason, she suddenly leaned her upper body against my chest.
I nearly fell backward.
When I steadied myself, she buried her face in my chest and wept.
I stood dumbfounded.
Then I felt a suffocating impulse rise within me.
Forgetting myself, I hugged her shoulders tightly.
The rounded flesh of her shoulders bounced against my chest like rubber balls.
I whispered into her ear.

“I have been in love with you.”

Her slight nod permeated through to the very depths of my chest.
Then everything fell silent.
I felt as though I’d sunk to the bottom of a lake.
In a daze, I stared blankly at the hazy light flowing over the thick fog – like sunlight filtering through frosted glass.
When I caught her soft, fragrant breath, she gently lifted her head and gazed up at me.
As I lowered my eyes, her upturned black pupils flickered, and a carefree youthful smile swept across her small mouth framed by plump cheeks.
It burned itself clearly into my vision.
This was precisely the expression I’d imagined while studying the Mona Lisa.
I sprang upright.
I wanted to hurl myself against the ground.
I wanted to rocket into the sky.
Seizing her hand, I began striding forward vigorously.

As we walked, I alone launched into a torrent of words—how I had received five hundred yen from my uncle, how I had spent half of it already, that I wanted to paint her portrait, how desperately I had loved her, my artistic ideals for the future, that with love and art alone I needed nothing else in this world, that I wanted to share a radiant future with her... No matter how much I spoke, it still felt insufficient. I seemed to repeat the same things over and over. And before we knew it, we found ourselves returning toward her house only to walk right past it again. In that narrow world bound by fog, there were only the two of us. She remained silent, listening to my words. At last she vowed to ask her father and pose for me. Then still we continued exchanging vows about all manner of things—love, the future, and everything else.

When we passed in front of the house for the second time, she suddenly stopped and said.

“If we stay out too long, Father will worry, so let’s continue next time!”

With that note of finality, she tilted her head slightly askew with deliberate force and stared unwaveringly into my eyes.
I found myself compelled to acquiesce.
We exchanged a firm, earnest handshake before parting.
She paused briefly.
A warm smile blossomed across her face.
Then she pivoted sharply and strode away with brisk steps.

Even after her figure had been swallowed up by the fog, I remained standing there for some time.
Then I suddenly felt cold.
The surroundings were dead silent.
Though the fog seemed to thin slightly, I felt the night's darkness grow profoundly deeper.
It must have been quite late by now.

I immediately returned home.
When the Landlady began to say something from her room across the way, I merely replied "Yeah" from halfway up the stairs and retreated to my own room.

The room felt unnervingly quiet.
I picked up the desk clock and stared at it.
Then I gasped in astonishment.
It was still before nine.
But that made no sense.
I had walked with Shizuko for what felt like hours.
The clock must have been broken.
To evade further conversation with the Landlady, I feigned a trip to the bathroom and made my inquiry from the stair landing upon returning.

“What time is it now?”

After a moment, the Landlady's voice responded.

"It's still ten minutes to nine... Are you retiring already?"

"Yes," I blurted out louder than intended.

I raced up to the second floor.
I spread out the futon in the corner of the room and immediately went to sleep.
If both clocks showed it was before nine, then that must indeed have been the case.
I felt as though time had tricked me.
That anxiety began to grow.
To drive away that unpleasant feeling, I thought only of Shizuko.
A mix of joy, delight, and an inexpressible poignancy made my chest clench tightly.
Her sweetly fragrant breath seeped all the way to the depths of my chest.
I couldn't do anything about it.
I tossed and turned repeatedly.

I had been utterly dazzled by the happiness that had fallen upon me. And I had been filled with nothing but gratitude. But I didn’t know what to be grateful for. I was profoundly grateful that I existed in this world. I was profoundly grateful that she had been born into this world. I turned my eyes to Mona Lisa again. I stared at the area around the eyes, starting from the brow of that portrait which so closely resembled her. Next, moving past the lower half of the face, I shifted my gaze from her chest toward both hands. At that moment, a certain idea flashed through my mind. To symbolize my love for her, and to symbolize her purity, shall I slip a single pearl ring onto her finger? That milky silver pearl obtained from within a shell seemed to me the purest thing.

I could no longer wait for dawn to break.

When I awoke from the sleep I'd somehow fallen into, I immediately sprang up. When I slid open the storm shutters, sunlight from the newly risen eastern sun flooded into the room. I stood on the veranda and took a deep breath. The world had transformed. Birds sang, white clouds drifted across the sky, dew-laden leaves glistened, and a refreshing breeze swept in from afar. Everything danced with joy. I opened the window and gazed toward Shizuko's house. The dew-glistening tiled roof gently enveloped her peaceful slumber. Morning hearth smoke slanted upward as it rose into the clear sky. At that moment, I visualized the tranquil life of her household before me - a long-bearded father engrossed daily in books and Go; Shizuko herself, freshly graduated from girls' school with spoiled innocence; a lively maid with darting eyes - these alone comprised her family. Neither their mother's absence nor their Kyoto University-attending brother's absence seemed to leave any void in that household. I felt nostalgia akin to that for a distant childhood home... That's right - I should bring joy to that father too. Shizuko must have told her father about me. Her father would surely permit her to pose. I resolved to take initiative in giving gifts of gratitude to both her father and herself first - a pearl ring, and perhaps... some Oshima-tsumugi fabric for her father, sent without explanation.

I smiled at my own ingenious scheme.
This was truly an idea worthy of contemplation in the morning sunlight.
I meticulously washed my face, shaved my beard, changed into a fresh kimono, then—barely listening to the astonished Landlady’s remarks and skipping breakfast entirely—tucked the money from the Western envelope into my pocket and departed.
My plan was to invite my dear friend Kōno and go shopping.

When I arrived at Kōno’s boarding house, I found he had only just risen.
Without preamble, I declared:

“Hey, we’re leaving right now.”

“Where to?”

“Anywhere is fine. Just follow me silently wherever I go. I’ve got something wonderfully happy.”

Kōno drowsily yet restlessly darted his bleary eyes about and stared fixedly at my face.

“What a clear, splendid day it is. Let’s hurry and go. You’ll understand everything later. And put on a nice kimono and come.”

“What’s the idea of going out this early? I haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

“Food doesn’t matter at all. I’ll treat you to anything you like. I haven’t eaten yet either.”

Even so, he kept fussing about something or other. I was growing somewhat impatient. I thought it might be better to lay everything out in the open instead. I also wanted to share my joy with my friend. I had no choice but to sit down there and briefly lay everything out for him to hear. While I was talking, he kept staring oddly at my face. I couldn’t comprehend why he kept staring like that. And when I mentioned the ring and Ōshima fabric, he let out an absurdly exaggerated cry.

“That’s brilliant.”
“The ending’s the most dramatic part.”
“Alright, let’s get going then.”

He grew more impatient than I did.
We immediately went outside.
It was a fine, windless day with clear skies.
To me, everything seemed to be dancing with joy.

The train was extremely crowded.
However, I didn’t care about that at all.
Yet I found it strange that everyone was making such oddly sullen faces.
Why don't they all have bright, cheerful expressions?
The world is a joyous place!
The day's toil is sufficient for the day!
I looked around at the surrounding people with an open, friendly gaze.
The man who appeared to be a company employee sitting right in front of me—perhaps due to my frequent glances—swung around to face the opposite direction.
I thought he was an unpleasant fellow.

We first went to Tenshodo.
A sharp-eyed clerk who looked quick-witted appeared, so I felt pleased.
I bought a single pearl-set gold ring with the simplest engraving and an exquisite pearl.
I had to take out the Western envelope again.
But this time I felt no awkwardness whatsoever.
I deliberately thrust the envelope before the clerk and pulled out the bills.
When the clerk blinked two or three times, I became delighted.

Then I went to Shiraki and bought one tan of regular Ōshima kasuri fabric. The pattern was one Kōno helped select.

Pressing the ring box against my chest and carrying the fabric bundle in hand, while strolling down Ginza Street, I felt a powerful joy that made me want to charge headlong into anything and everything. Beneath the row of willows with their slender, tender leaves just sprouting forth, I kept lifting one hand high, reaching to touch the tips of their branches.

“Ah, I’m starving!”

Kōno suddenly blurted out. He wore a somehow bored expression. As I watched him, I too abruptly felt hunger pangs.

When it came time to decide what to eat, I found myself somewhat at a loss.
Given the time constraints, we had no choice but to enter a certain restaurant and order three or four dishes that could be prepared quickly.
Instead, we had multiple glasses of Western liquor lined up.

A waitress with a round face like a moon sketched with eyes and nose stood across the room gazing in our direction. Because I was grinning so broadly, she abruptly turned and walked away. I thought what an odd one she was. Thinking that made it seem even funnier.

“Hey, what’s the matter?”
“What’s so funny?” said Kōno.

I burst out laughing.
As I blew smoke rings, I rocked back and forth lightly on the chair.
I felt utterly lighthearted.

“By the way, how do you intend to deliver it?”
“You’re still not close with her father over there, are you?”

I stared at Kōno's face.
That was precisely the problem.
But it was a delightful problem.

“I was just thinking of discussing that with you now,” I answered.

“We need an interesting delivery method,” said Kōno.

He peered into my face with slyly gleaming eyes.
This guy’s trying to flatter me, I thought.
But indulging his flattery held some appeal.

We debated delivery methods while eating.
No decent ideas surfaced.
I grew frustrated.
Stalling now after coming this far would be pathetic.
I began visualizing Shizuko’s domestic life with her father.

“Something good’s coming!” I shouted, pounding the table with my fist.

Kōno had a bewildered look.

“What? You startled me!”

I pressed on with my explanation regardless.

“At Father’s place, go players often come over and play until late at night, click-clacking away.”
“Let’s go tonight.”
“If we hear the sound of go stones clacking, we’ll seize that moment to disguise ourselves as postmen and toss it through the front gate…”
“Well? What do you think?”

Kōno sank into thought without saying anything.
I didn't like that overly cautious attitude of his.

“If you won’t agree to it, I’ll just do it alone,” I declared.

“I haven’t said whether I agree or disagree yet, have I?” Kōno remained composed.
“But if we botch this and end up in some ridiculous mess, that’d be pointless.”
“However happy you may be, if you get too carried away, I think it might actually backfire on you both.”
“Isn’t there some safe yet interesting approach we could take?”

“Nah, it’s fine.”
“I’ll handle it.”

“If you’re the one taking responsibility, then of course I’ve no objections...”

I pressed through Kōno’s indecisiveness.
Then, urging him on, I went outside.
The Western liquor had left me pleasantly tipsy down to my toes.
I walked swinging both arms.
The stares from passersby only fed my good mood.

We returned to Kōno’s boarding house.
And then we wrapped both items into a parcel.

“This pearl is truly excellent,” Kōno remarked admiringly.

On the parcel’s front face, we wrote “Yamaguchi Masanori-sama” and “Yamaguchi Shizuko-sama” side by side, adding “With Compliments” along the edge.
The back bore only the single character K – taken from Kikawa’s initial.

With matters thus settled, I found myself at a loss for how to spend the afternoon.
Though Kōno tried inviting me out somewhere, I wanted to go nowhere.
A faint desire stirred to visit the outskirts.
The forest blazing with fresh greenery, fields like velvet carpets, chill stream waters and endless azure skies – these sights tugged faintly at my heart.
Yet Shizuko’s absence – her not being right beside me – suddenly pierced me with anguish.
Everything seemed drained of meaning.
Even moving my limbs or forming words felt burdensome.
I lay sprawled gazing through the shōji’s glass pane at the bright sky, Kōno before me as my thoughts drowned in Shizuko.
That soft shoulder’s sensation came flooding back into my palm and chest.

“Hey, what are you dazing off about?” said Kōno listlessly.

I merely answered “Hmm” and fell silent.
I wanted to embrace something—anything—with all my strength.
When I looked at Kōno, he was puffing on his cigarette incessantly.
He had thick lips, and a shadowy gloom lingered on his forehead.
I felt somehow unclean.
When I thought that, even the air in the room felt suffocating.
I stood up and threw the shoji wide open.
Cold air enveloped my body.
I drew a deep breath and lost myself in reverie again.

In the evening, the dinner tray was brought in, but I couldn't bring myself to pick up my chopsticks.
I finally managed to eat just one bowl.

Under the electric light, Kōno stared intently at my face.

“What’re we gonna do?” he said.

I didn’t know what to do either.
My enthusiasm completely soured.
If only Shizuko were here – her father, the ring, the portrait – none of it seemed to matter at all.
But even so, I couldn’t just leave things at that.
I picked up the parcel and followed Kōno outside.

A thin mist hung.
The air lay strangely thick and sultry.
We wandered the streets endlessly.
In a desolate back alley, when a pine branch thrust out like an elbow overhead, I stopped dead in surprise.

“What’s the matter?” said Kōno.

“That’s enough already,” I said, uttering words I didn’t truly mean.

“Then I’ll go throw it in.”
“There’s nothing to worry about.”
“I’ll make sure it’s done right.”

When we came to a spot about eighteen meters from Shizuko’s house, I silently handed the parcel to Kōno.
I felt like we were doing something utterly absurd, but seeing Kōno so thoroughly caught up in the excitement, I had no choice but to go along with whatever he said.
However, just as Kōno was about to go, I called out to stop him for no particular reason.

“Wait.”

“What is it?”

I didn't know what to say.
My head grew foggy.

“No, just go handle it,” I spat out.

“Handle it? That’s rich.”
“Right then—stay put.”

I stood rooted there, watching Kōno’s form dissolve into the fog-choked darkness.
My heart began thudding queerly.
An ill omen gripped me—as if some colossal calamity hung poised to drop from the heavens.

I leaned against the fence there and tightly shut my eyes. I heard no sound at all. I grew unbearably lonely. I tried murmuring "Shizuko, Shizuko" under my breath. It felt like an eternity.

I finally couldn't wait any longer and made to take a step forward. At that moment—startlingly close—came an absurdly loud crash from the lattice gate. I jolted upright. Then my consciousness zeroed in on the pounding of my own heart. I registered nothing else. When a tap on my shoulder startled me back to awareness, Kōno stood there. Without a word, I broke into a ten-step dash.

“Ah, that was close,” Kōno said as he came chasing after me from behind. “First I stealthily peeked inside from the front gate, but there wasn’t a single sound. I thought they’d already gone to bed. Then came the clink of a tobacco tray. This had to be that Go player you mentioned—I just knew it. Pure intuition! Right after that, I faintly heard Go stones clattering with laughter. ‘Perfect timing,’ I thought, and when I tried the gate door gently, it gave way slightly. The front entry was left partway open—not properly shut yet. Seizing the moment, I charged right in. ‘Postal delivery!’ I announced while hurling in the parcel. Someone inside immediately called out ‘Yes!’ The reply came so fast it threw me off—I bolted back out and forgot to close the lattice in the shadows! Seriously dangerous stuff. Cold sweat streaming down my face.”

“And then?” I asked.

“What do you mean ‘and then’? That’s good enough, isn’t it?”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, get a grip! Since it went according to plan, there’s nothing more to worry about. If something goes wrong, I’ll step in.”

Even so, I grew anxious.
I could no longer understand why I had resolved to do such a thing.
I found myself looking unbearably absurd.
It felt as though some great misfortune were about to stretch out its hand toward me.
The dense tree shadows and the depths of impenetrable darkness kept menacing me.
Refusing Kōno’s suggestion to celebrate somewhere, I returned home.
Kōno accompanied me all the way to the front of my house.

“There’s nothing to worry about… Just get some proper rest tonight—I’ll come again tomorrow.”

I had my hand firmly gripped by Kōno and found myself tearing up. As if to hide those tears, I entered the house.

I went up to the second floor without even greeting the landlady.
I immediately laid out the futon and went to sleep.
It felt as if I were being haunted by a nightmare.
I couldn't think of anything clearly.
In the depths of my head, glittering things were tangled chaotically.
And before I knew it, I fell asleep.

The next morning, while still dozing quite late, I was awakened by Kōno.
Kōno stood rigidly at my bedside and stared wide-eyed.

“Are you still sleeping?
Even for someone who sleeps in as much as you do, I thought you’d already be up by now.”

I dazedly opened my eyes. I couldn't bring myself to sit up. My head sagged heavily, and my body felt oppressively heavy.

"I think I'll sleep a bit more..." I said.

"Right,"
"Then I'll get going."
"It's not like I had any real business here anyway."

And Kōno left.

I dimly became aware of all that had happened, as though it were part of a dream. I felt bad about Kōno. And then I truly awoke. When I sat up, my head spun. Bright sunlight flooded heaven and earth alike. Staring fixedly at it, everything became clear to me. All my worries and fears had been mere illusions of the night. Under the glorious sun, everything is affirmed. With a smile, I recalled giving the ring and bolt of fabric. I was happy. I was supremely happy indeed.

I arranged the Cambridge paints, ran my fingers over the new canvas and brushes, and reread my uncle's letter once more.
Though I had spent over 150 yen on the ring and Ōshima fabric, twelve bills watermarked with the 5-7 paulownia crest still remained inside the Western-style envelope.
I carefully stored them in the bookcase drawer for future moments of happiness yet to come.

After breakfast, I began tidying up the room.
Old books, paintbrushes, paints, canvases, and such lay scattered in disarray.
Dust had accumulated in every corner of the room.
Since the landlady only gave it a quick once-over once a day, cleaning it properly proved quite a task.
Organizing letters and tidying the closet took until afternoon.

I remembered it was around two o'clock.
The Landlady came clattering up the stairs.
Then, sticking out only her head, she said in a loud voice.

“Miss Shizuko has arrived!”

“Miss Shizuko!”
I stood frozen in bewilderment.
It was too unexpected.
I didn’t know what to do.
While I was floundering about, Shizuko slipped in like the wind.

“My goodness!” she said.

The room remained in disarray with various items strewn about.
I turned bright red.
In that instant, I couldn't find any words.

“Well,” Shizuko began speaking rapidly, “because you went and did such a thing last night—it was you, wasn’t it—Father is furious and says to come see him right away.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I didn’t notice that package at first, you see. After the guests left, the maid brought it before Father. When I saw Father looking at it with such a puzzled expression, I was startled—but there was nothing I could do anymore. When he opened it and looked inside, Father seemed utterly astonished again. Then he turned to me and demanded in a terrifying manner—‘Who is this K? You must know!’ I couldn’t keep hiding it, so I ended up telling him about you.”

“About me!”

“Yes, forgive me.
But that matter…” she began, then lowered her eyes and blinked briefly.
“I kept quiet about that matter… Then Father began asking all sorts of questions about you.”
“So I told him you were a poor young painter.”
“Then he said, ‘For a poor painter, these are rather extravagant items.’ I felt frustrated, so I told him, ‘But he’s a future genius!’”
“Because he’s a future genius, his uncle gave him five hundred yen outright,” I told him.
“Then Father fell completely silent.”
“I thought this was the moment, so I asked him to let me pose—then with a terrifying face, he yelled ‘Idiot!’”
“And then I got shouted at like that!”
“After that, he didn’t say anything else last night.”
“But I was worried about that.”
“Then today, he demands that you come see him immediately.”
“He ordered me not to dawdle and to bring you right away.”
“Father seemed rather angry.”
“Well… what should we do?……”

Her eyes still shone clear and bright.
Across her flushed cheeks danced the flickering shadow of a leaping smile.
Seeing this, I suddenly felt fortified.
I felt ready to charge headlong into anything.

“Let’s go right away,” I answered.

“Are you sure?” she asked, tilting her head in that birdlike way she always did as she peered into my eyes.
I jumped up and embraced her shoulders.

Everything was exactly like a dream.
I hurriedly changed into my kimono and flew down the stairs.
No matter what anyone says, I'll assert myself with integrity!
Thus I vowed in my heart.

Even so, when I passed through Shizuko's gate and was ushered into the parlor, I felt for the first time that I stood at a crucial turning point.
Muscles throughout my body began twitching spasmodically.
However much I strove to compose myself, my agitation only intensified.

At that moment, Shizuko's father appeared.
I felt as if my head had been struck with a solid blow.
My head bowed of its own accord, and I couldn't lift my eyes no matter how hard I tried.
I clenched both fists on my knees and bit my lip hard.

“Mr. Kikawa?”
“I am Shizuko’s father.”

A solemn voice resounded.
I saw only a cushion with grey latticework on dark brown fabric and a kasuri-patterned kimono enveloping thin knees.

A heavy silence persisted for some time.

“The truth is, I asked you here because I have some questions regarding that gift you sent…”

Addressed in that manner, I turned bright red.
I wanted to say something, but the words caught in my throat and wouldn’t emerge.

“Shizuko said you were a future genius, but can you maintain that confidence?”

The question was so unexpected that I involuntarily looked up.
A familiar face framed by a long beard streaked with white was gazing in my direction.
The tightly pursed mouth looked thoroughly stern, yet beneath the high, receding forehead peered long, narrow eyes brimming with gentleness.
Those narrow eyes shone fleetingly with a mocking glint.
Seeing that, I suddenly regained my vigor.

“Yes, I do have confidence,” I answered.

“Where is your hometown?”

Another unexpected question loomed.

“Akita.”

“Is your family of the samurai class?”

“Yes.”
“I’ve heard my grandfather served as a mounted retainer.”

“Your parents?”
“Mother is healthy, but Father passed away two years ago.”
“Do you have any siblings?”

I began to feel strange.
It felt exactly like undergoing a background check.
When that ran its course, a third unexpected question came down.

“Do you play Go?”

“I can only play just a little.”

The old man made a face that seemed to say "Hmm."

I felt increasingly strange.
Unexpected questions trickled down one after another, and as I gave simple answers to each, a thin veil gently settled over my heart.
I grew bolder.
And I took the initiative to request that he let me paint a half-portrait of Shizuko—of course still wearing her kimono.
I said that I intended to complete a masterpiece with that.
I explained that the ring and Ōshima fabric were purchased with the remaining money from my uncle—since there was no particular use for it otherwise—and that I had presented them beforehand as a token of gratitude.
"In fact, there’s still about 120 yen left over," I ended up blurting out even unnecessary details.

I must have been completely out of my mind.

The old man neither consented nor refused.
But then he suddenly said such a thing.

“I was wondering if you might draw a portrait of me as well.
“I can’t exactly call it proper thanks, but how about I teach you Go in return…”

And he burst into loud laughter.
I couldn’t tell whether it was a joke or sincere, and stared vacantly at the long beard streaked with white quivering with laughter.
Then that laughter began to infect me as well.
Before I could give any answer, I ended up laughing loudly.
The moment I finished laughing, I jolted back to reality.
I turned bright red and lowered my face.
I couldn’t stay still.
And then I hurriedly took my leave.
The old man made no attempt to stop me.
Shizuko did not appear.

When I burst outside, cold sweat streamed down my back and forehead. I felt utterly mocked, the frustration unbearably bitter. I wanted to smash myself against something with full force. But when I recognized this impulse myself, I suddenly found it absurdly funny. I struggled desperately to hold it back but failed completely. I erupted into raucous laughter right in the street's center. My chest loosened with relief.

I stood baffled before this surplus of happiness. "Future genius" rang persistently in my ears. Shizuko's visage flickered behind my eyelids, refusing to vanish. Could humans rightfully feel such bliss!?...The old man's chuckle began tickling my chest anew. No amount of leaping or thrashing sufficed. Again I burst into loud guffaws. My chest eased once more. Had I gone mad? The thought itself made me laugh again.

I crossed my arms and absently pondered.
I didn't understand anything.
I felt as though I were standing starkly alone in the world.