Pathway to Japanese Literature

There was a sense of sleet-tinged rain beginning to fall in sporadic drops.
I suddenly stopped walking and, with an indifferent expression, looked up at the sky.
From the dim, hazy gray sky hanging low, a few cold particles fell directly onto my cheeks and around my nose, their chill running down my spine to the tips of my toes.

“Here it comes at last.”

I muttered to myself with a snorting laugh, but that feeling abruptly hit a wall, leaving even me momentarily disconcerted.
I'd been out since morning trying to arrange money—getting turned away at some places, finding others closed with their masters absent—until even my half-hearted initial determination had vanished somewhere along the way. To make matters worse, having missed lunch entirely, I'd wandered in a daze until evening had somehow arrived.
My coin purse remained obstinately empty, not a scrap of food lingered in my stomach, and now this sleet-like rain began pelting my coatless body exposed to the wind.
But such things—ah well, it's not like there's no tomorrow!
I tried putting on this blustering act, but rather than the question of what to do next... it was the matter of where to go that completely commandeered my thoughts.
If I kept drifting about like this, I'd only succeed in soaking my prized meisen silk outfit in the rain for nothing. There wasn't a single place I could casually drop by either. And if I did return home, I'd only face Oku's sharp rebukes or tearful voice—neither prospect offered anything worthwhile... Now what?

It was a crossroads on a wide street.
Packed trams passed by one after another, automobiles with what looked like warm human faces peering out from within raced past, and people clutching shopping bundles hurried along with a cheerful urgency.

"So this is how busy the world keeps itself."
I might be the only one still unbothered.
What Oku said made sense.
But I had absolutely no prospects at all.
"Telling me to hurry when there's not a damn chance..."

But even as I was thinking this way, I had already taken two or three steps forward.
Staggering across the tram tracks without realizing it, I found Christmas decorations still lingering in the curio shop's window there.
Silver threads like spiderwebs stretched across cedar boughs, framing a white-bearded old man in red hat and robe with boots, standing there all smiles.
I scrutinized it for a long time.—That's right! Who's to say Santa Claus himself might not bring me some marvelous happiness any moment now!
Though I wasn't trying to court omens, I thought I might buy Kewpie dolls for the children and head home—partly to manufacture an excuse for myself.

The rain was already coming down steadily enough that I could tell even with my head bowed.
I quickened my pace slightly.
At a certain toy storefront, I emptied the meager contents of my coin purse and bought four celluloid Kewpie dolls costing five sen each.
Even the clerk’s insincere pleasantries—"Thank you as always"—weren’t entirely unwelcome.

I leaped onto a tram, after a while got off, threaded through winding backstreets, and stood before my own house’s entrance.
I strained my ears, but there was only hushed stillness.
Hmm?
The rain beat down indiscriminately upon my brooding mind.

I resolutely threw open the lattice door and stepped inside.

Oku sat blankly with the two children.
When I looked, candles were burning brightly at the household Shinto altar.
While thinking she'd begun her usual routine again, a wry smile spread unbidden across my face.

"How did it go?" Oku asked, looking up at me with upturned eyes.

Without answering, I pulled two Kewpie dolls from my sleeve and tossed them before the children.
The children let out delighted cries and scooped them up.

“There’s still more.”

And I tossed out two more.

“What funny faces you’re making!”

More than the children—curiously occupied with handling the Kewpie dolls—my own heart watching them swelled with even greater delight.
I grinned as I lit my cigarette and took a drag.

“Well… It’s…”

Oku, misapprehending something, had already begun losing her composure.
But that was only natural.
It was rare for me to bring home toys like this.
And yet, faced with this rare blossoming of familial joy I’d finally kindled, I found myself considerably troubled over how to extinguish it.

“You managed it… because I prayed…”

If she hadn’t added that final phrase, I might have found some way to prolong her hopes a little longer—but now I couldn’t wait another moment.

“But as it turned out…”

“What?!”

“I couldn’t scrape together a single penny.”

Before my eyes, her face stiffened in an odd way, and the light in her eyes began gleaming fiercely.
I knew this was the precursor to either fierce resentful complaints or lamenting appeals.
And holding my breath slightly, I waited to see which way things would fall this time.
Finally, she spoke out.

“You couldn’t scrape together a single penny, yet you had the gall to come crawling back here.”
“Didn’t you go out today saying you’d scrape together a decent sum and put my mind at ease?”
“You’re truly spineless!”
“Well? What happened to all those grand promises from this morning?”
“Where’s the money?”
“……For a fool, you at least know enough to feel ashamed—buying toys for the children and trying to deceive me with that trick. It won’t work.”
“If there was money for toys, buying rice instead would’ve shown some sense…”
“You actually had the nerve to come back empty-handed after wandering around till this hour.”
“It seems you couldn’t even find a place to borrow an umbrella and ended up getting soaked in the rain…”

Her words hit right where it hurt.
She spoke as if she had seen through everything—the dampness of my clothes, my buying toys as an excuse, my aimless wandering.
"But all that reflected in her mind were those surface matters—she completely failed to grasp what lay beneath," I said while thinking to myself.

“Who knows? It’s not impossible that Santa Claus himself might still show up any day now with some kind of miracle.”

“What are you talking about, confusing some foreign geezer like Santa with the god of fortune!... You must’ve had that same old dream about finding money again.”

I gave a bitter smile and didn’t answer.
Peeling off my damp best suit and changing into everyday cotton clothes, I dodged with a joke:

“Can’t you hurry up and make dinner?
I’m starving clean through—went and forgot lunch.”

“What? You haven’t even eaten lunch?!”

Her tone was hard to tell whether sympathetic or scornful—likely both—but in any case, she promptly prepared a meal.

On the rickety meal stand lay only a jumbled stew of potatoes and daikon radish along with cold rice. Even so, to an empty stomach, it was delicious. I found myself thinking how good a quick gulp of something hot would be now… but couldn’t bring myself to voice it aloud. The children too were eating with such relish. They even picked up and ate every grain of rice that scattered from their clumsy chopsticks.

“How’s it taste—good?” The words came out before I even knew it.

“Yeah,” Shinichi answered, his cheeks stuffed with potato as he rolled his eyes.

“How about you, Miyo?”

Miyo didn’t answer and instead tilted her head quizzically.

“Hey,” I said, turning to Oku, “everyone’s eating well, aren’t they? If we could just eat decent meals every day, there’d be nothing to fret about.”

Oku kept her eyes fixedly downcast. She seemed moved by something, even blinking as if holding back tears. Even so, she didn’t forget to sigh. And she said.

“At least… I wish we could welcome even just a good New Year…”

“What are you talking about?!”
“Whether it’s a good New Year or a bad one, you ain’t gonna know till it’s here.”

“It’s because you keep spouting such carefree nonsense that you’re hopeless,” she said. “What day do you even think this is?”

“Today’s the 28th—year-end,” I replied.

“See? We’ve only got until the end of the day after tomorrow.”

Now that she mentioned it, that was exactly how things stood. In fact, a stern notice had earlier arrived from the pawnshop regarding two or three of Oku’s kimonos and three or four sets of the children’s formal wear—though I couldn’t recall the exact count—left pawned for six full months with accruing interest. The brush-written ultimatum stated clearly that unless interest was paid by the coming 30th, all items would be “subject to disposal during year-end account settlements.” According to Oku’s reasoning, redeeming at least the children’s clothes seemed essential for welcoming a proper New Year.

Putting that aside, the real problem lay in scraping together over sixty yen for redemption. On top of that, I needed around 150 yen total for rent, various payments, and temporary loans where even half payments couldn’t be neglected without social repercussions.

When my job finally came through, I immediately began scrambling for funds, only to be met everywhere with the same formulaic refusal: “Given your current straits...” From my perspective, being pressed to the wall was precisely why I needed money, yet lenders insisted that being pressed was exactly why they couldn’t provide any. The more urgent the need grew, the more avenues sealed shut—such was the way of things.

There was nothing to be done.
Yet we hadn’t yet reached the absolute brink.

“Then what do you plan to do once we reach that brink?”

That was Oku’s final hammer blow．
Of course，even I couldn’t spout any half-hearted reassurances after things had come to this point—there was nothing to do but be crushed into silence．
But…but…we still hadn’t been pushed to the absolute brink yet．

“Well，I’ll figure something out by the day after tomorrow．”

Somehow，even the food lost its taste．
It wasn’t because my stomach had filled out a bit．
It was because I’d sunk into this strange gloom．
Why am I so poor?! …The electric light was strangely dim，and the house was filthy with soot．
I was too accustomed to notice，but anyone stepping inside for the first time would surely detect the stench of poverty．

When I fell silent, Oku too fell into an awkward silence, and even the children began listlessly picking at their tasteless meal.
I was beginning to think we were beyond saving when—saved by the vigorous clatter of the lattice door.

The one who came was Ikebe.
He was normally an efficient man, but that night he seemed excited and was particularly energetic.

“Hey, right in the middle of dinner? I’ve come at just the right moment. Actually, I was thinking of having a drink with you... Mrs. Oku, sorry to ask, but could you make a quick run for some sake and snacks with this?”

And then he opened the coin purse, took out two 50-sen silver coins, and placed them neatly on the dining tray.

Oku looked at his face for a time; then, with the lingering trace of that gaze briefly brushing my face, she began to speak composedly.

“As for sake, we have at least some at home.”
“And besides, there’s nothing much, but if salted fish with Nara pickles would do…”

“If there’s that much, it’s plenty.”
“Well then, we’ll just ask again when the sake runs out.”

And then he immediately put the 50-sen silver coins back into the coin purse.
It was remarkably clear.
That contrarily felt comforting to me.
The only slightly disagreeable thing was Oku’s approach.

“If we had sake at home, you should’ve said so sooner. The truth is, I’ve been holding back wanting a drink, y’know.”

“See? Don’t you have your own shame for holding back what you wanted to drink? …I mean, I kept it aside thinking if you’d just managed things properly… but…”

She’s a woman who’s always thinking of ways to corner her husband, I thought, but since this wasn’t the place for an argument, I kept silent. On top of that, she wore a faint smile—pursing her upper lip in a way that recalled a hint of her former charm—so I responded with an ambiguous smile of my own. But Ikebe had taken issue with her words.

“What’s all this ‘arranging’ and ‘not arranging’ business…?”
“It’s not like you’re playing matchmaker—something that’s completely unlike you…”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Actually, it’s about getting money together.”

“Ah, I see.”
And he made a face that showed everything had clicked into place.
“Actually, I’ve been looking into a few leads myself since I’m a bit short too, but times are hard.”

“Exactly—times are hard.”

And we burst out laughing.
In this situation, we found ourselves utterly delighted—even happy—by the very fact that times were hard.

The sake had been heated, the salted fish had been split, and as we refilled our cups, Ikebe abruptly changed his tone and began to inquire.

“By the way, how’s your job situation coming along, huh?”

“Well, somehow I managed to get it settled with Fukada Printing, but there’s hardly any work left this year. They’re saying they’ll be closed at the start of New Year’s—want me to start coming in around the 15th.”
“No savings to speak of. Wearing us down just keeping fed till then.”

“Ah hell—that one’s got a secure future though, ain’t that good enough?”
“Me? I’m just temp help for the year-end rush—future’s pitch black, nothing rattles you worse.”
“…This whole mess? All thanks to that bastard Matsuo.”

Ikebe stared intently at my face.
I immediately sensed he was scheming something again, but his words took an unexpected turn.

“Have you met Sasaki since then?”

“Haven’t.”

“The truth is, that bastard Sasaki was colluding with Matsuo.”

“What?! Sasaki?!”

“Yeah.”
“There’s solid evidence.”

“What’s this about?”

“What do you mean ‘what’s this about’? There’s all sorts, but it started when Asai went to Sasaki’s place to borrow money. He’d heard that Sasaki had bought shares in some small printshop—a tiny operation specializing in odd jobs—and was running it alone, so off he trotted. When he went to check it out, there were just one or two hand-operated presses—hardly enough to run a proper business—but Sasaki was making grand claims about turning it into a large-scale printing company someday. ‘Once that happens,’ he said, ‘you can come work for me too.’ Asai apparently felt he was being made a fool of, but when you pick apart his phrasing here and there, there’s no way you can just dismiss it as empty boasting. But putting that aside, Asai finally brought up wanting to borrow a bit of money. Then that bastard, putting on an innocent face, says something like, ‘Well, if you’re paying seven or eight percent interest a month, I could maybe lend you fifty yen or so.’ He just spat it out like that. He’s makin’ fools of us! That bastard Asai was fuming and came to spill the whole story to me. And as the two of us kept talking, more and more things just didn’t add up. First off, where the hell did Sasaki even get that kind of money? That bastard never had any money to begin with. He may have been skilled at his job, but he was always boozing, wasn’t he? And that bastard was the one who dragged us into dealing with Matsuo in the first place. And then there’s his shameless attitude back then! Anyone could’ve pretty much figured that out. I pulled some strings with Asai and looked into it discreetly. So, it turns out that bastard really was colluding with Matsuo.”

Strangely enough, as I listened to this account, I felt as though I myself had once imagined Sasaki’s collusion before.
Or perhaps, I felt as though I was being told by Ikebe things I already knew.
And I wasn’t particularly surprised.
There was nothing as utterly absurd as this incident.
The beginning of it all was in August when Sasaki introduced our group of about fifteen to Matsuo.
Matsuo had apparently been entrusted with full authority by a certain tycoon and was newly establishing a printing company.
It was supposed to become an ideal company—not with a salary system but with a profit-sharing system.
And we were skillfully persuaded into promising to join the company.
Of course, there were various negotiations during that period, but by mid-October, we had left our own printing company, received what they called a full allowance of 100 yen each, completed our employment contracts with the new company, and were waiting for it to commence operations.
They were supposed to purchase an existing printing office and start work immediately.
But no matter how long we waited, the company never materialized.
Sasaki had been acting as our representative in negotiations with Matsuo all along.
While this was ongoing, Matsuo suddenly vanished.
It was rumored he had embezzled nearly ten thousand yen provided by the tycoon.
As for what became of the tycoon, I don’t know, but on our end, we were truly in dire straits.
We would gather repeatedly among ourselves and devise various countermeasures.
Sasaki was the first to voice cold resignation.
Although those who opposed him were in the majority, since Matsuo’s whereabouts remained unknown, there was nothing they could do.
They were all people struggling to survive, and before we knew it, they had scattered in every direction, each seeking their own jobs.—On my end, in the midst of that incident, my mother fell ill and finally passed away; amidst all the chaos, as year-end drew near, I managed to secure a position starting mid-January at Fukada Printing Company—but our livelihood had reached a dead end.

If Sasaki had indeed colluded with Matsuo, my fury should have rightfully flared up against him—yet it merely smoldered dully within me, leaving an odd sense of absurdity at my own reaction.
So, with an ironic smile at myself, I asked Ikebe:
“But that’s just speculation—you haven’t actually produced any solid evidence yet, have you?”

“We’ve got it!”
“A penniless wretch like Sasaki suddenly having money appear out of nowhere—that’s proof enough right there.”
“When we looked into it quietly, there wasn’t a single sign he’d ever had money before or that he’d withdrawn it from someone.”

“So what’re we supposed to do?”

“What would you do?”

Ikebe threw the question back at me, edging his face closer.
I could tell he’d already resolved himself to drag me into this scheme, but figuring it’d amount to nothing good anyway, I calmly weathered his pressing advance.

“Why don’t you report it to the police?” Oku, who had just put the children to bed, interjected with her half-understood meddling.

“What’s the use reporting him? That bastard won’t show his tail,” Ikebe sneered emptily before turning to address me directly. “Truth is, four or five of us have settled on a plan—won’t you back us? Here’s how it goes. We’ll call it the final meeting about that incident—get Sasaki summoned so we can all corner him together. If he plays dumb, we’ll just have to uncover everything—when he started saving where, how much he stashed, who he withdrew from—all that.”
“He can’t squirm out of this!”
“Then we either shake down every yen that bastard got from Matsuo or give him a proper thrashing—take your pick.”
“If by some fluke he wasn’t colluding with Matsuo, we’ll swallow our pride and apologize—then all march into his printing shop to build something decent together.”
“Might even find investors that way…”

As things reached that point, I found myself getting intrigued.
Ikebe, seeing that I was getting enthusiastic, took out another 50-sen silver coin and asked Oku to refill the sake.
And everyone discussed the matter in even greater detail.
Oku was most in favor of extorting the money; Ikebe was most inclined to beat him up; and I pinned my greatest hopes on building up a proper printing company.
However, with three solutions on the table, whichever way it went seemed interesting.
However, Ikebe insisted that they didn’t want to carry this matter over into the New Year, so it should be done on the afternoon of the 30th.
I was in agreement.
With that settled, Ikebe hurriedly stood up to make more rounds.
Confidently declaring that around ten out of the roughly fifteen people would surely gather, he left.

However, once Ikebe was gone, I somehow felt drained of energy.
Though lean, his physique—strangely sturdy-boned—had such an inexplicable effect on me that I couldn’t make sense of it at all.
Perhaps it was because the matter had come up too abruptly to settle in my mind, but even so—he wasn’t shouldering this burden alone—so why did my own heart feel so listless? It was perplexing.

"He's truly awful," Oku said, still not having lost her agitation.
"A bastard like that won't even care about getting beaten up, so you should just wring every last yen out of him."

I gave a wry smile.

“It’s not that simple… You’re one to talk. You didn’t even take the money Ikebe threw down earlier, yet went out of your way to bring out the reserved sake.”

“That’s different… We should just make Sasaki spit out every yen he’s got. Then we’d be saved too. But you know we can’t count on Sasaki—just arrange what’s needed for the house. We can’t see the New Year through without the children’s clothes and holiday preparations. Can you manage within a day or two? We’ve really been cornered at the worst time. Enough about Sasaki—he’s no real help anyway. Just focus on household matters first.”

While declaring Sasaki couldn’t be counted on, she was in fact counting on him after all, I realized.
All this time she’d been belittling me for seeing nothing but trivial dreams, yet here she was—clinging to Sasaki’s still-unformed plans like a drowning person grasping at straws, quick to cast hope upon them…
Feeling utterly foolish, I flopped down right there.

“I’m really begging you here.”
“No matter how desperate things get—can’t you manage to scrape together a hundred or two hundred yen?”
“Even if you can’t, I’ll pray that I can make it happen.”
“I’ll pray and pray and pray through to the end.”
“I’ll stake my life praying for you, mark my words—…Oh no—the altar candle’s gone out….”

She was beginning to slip into her usual deranged state again. Suddenly standing up, she lit candles at the household altar and crouched before it—"Amateru kami, Hirume kami..." That was all I could catch before she started mouthing an interminably long, incomprehensible incantation under her breath. What baffled me most was how she'd memorized that lengthy liturgy. Of course Mother had always chanted it, but throughout her lifetime, she'd never so much as glanced toward the altar.

As far as I can remember, Mother—though she was my mother-in-law and Oku’s biological mother—always seemed to value the household altar more than her own life.
Every morning without fail she made offerings of rice and water; every evening without fail she lit the altar lamps; on the first and fifteenth of each month she presented sacred sake; she never let the fresh sakaki branches wither; and morning and evening she performed long devotions.
Yet despite Oku and I acting indifferently toward it, she never reprimanded us—if anything, she even seemed pleased by our neglect—jealously performing the shrine duties alone as if handling some rare treasure, never permitting anyone else to lay a finger on it.
She remained that way until her death.
Even after her legs grew unsteady from illness, she would still get up only for the household altar’s needs and her own necessities.
Even after she could no longer get up, morning and evening she would have someone let her sit on the bed to pray.
When having Oku make offerings, she would watch intently over the process.
When her illness worsened and she could no longer speak properly, she began frantically gesturing to signal something.
We couldn't understand what she meant no matter how hard we tried.
She grew frustrated and plopped down on the floor.
We were shocked.
We forced her to lie down, but that became the final blow for her.
She flipped onto her back, gasping for breath, her mouth contorting grotesquely as if a fireball were lodged in her throat, and kept pointing frantically toward the household altar.
That hand was already cold and beginning to convulse.
Oku stayed by her side, cooling her head with water, while I hurriedly lit two altar lamps, offered sacred sake, and placed fresh sakaki branches—yet she still seemed dissatisfied.
Her entire body strained toward the household altar with a force that seemed ready to leap at it.
Her bony, grimy hand trembled upward toward the household altar, the whites of her eyes remaining stubbornly fixed upon it as her frantic breath huffed and puffed in its direction.
We were thrown into complete disarray.
We were at a loss about what to do.
As we did so, she finally grew still.

When they breathed a sigh of relief, at that moment she had already begun turning cold.

After she died—no, even beyond when we’d finished her funeral—the household altar remained an eerie presence that weighed on us.
However, there was nothing we could do.
When I jokingly suggested we should tear down the household Shinto altar, Oku startled strangely and made a face that said, *How blasphemous!* Though she never voiced it aloud—*“Mother’s spirit dwells in that altar…”*—she must have been thinking exactly that. And truth be told, I somehow felt the same way too.
But as for me, I had gradually come to regard that household Shinto altar—left neglected without offerings or cleaning, covered in dust and soot—with increasingly indifferent eyes.
After all, no ghost had ever appeared.
However, Oku seemed unable to do the same.
After Oku had gotten through Mother’s 49th-day memorial service and was just beginning to breathe easier, we’d spent all our money on Mother’s illness and funeral expenses; I’d lost my job over the Matsuo affair and had no income; year-end was bearing down on us; our life had become desperately strained—and she seemed utterly consumed by anxiety over it all.
And then she started spouting this absurd notion that it was all punishment for neglecting the household Shinto altar.
No matter how much I tried to persuade her, it had no effect on her—her mind was ensnared by thoughts of Mother.
The more I argued back, the more stubborn she became.
She lit candles on the household altar, offered sakaki branches, water, and rice, and began praying just as Mother had.
In part, she likely intended to encourage my spineless self while also harboring spite toward me—but she ended up becoming ensnared in that charade herself.
It had already become a full-blown illness—she would occasionally have these episodes.
It wasn’t that she truly believed—precisely because she had been quite indifferent in ordinary times, the task was all the more ill-suited.

"This is getting too rough."
"Mother's living ghost!"

There were times I thought like that.
But joking aside, it really did weigh on me.
I felt I had to do something about it.
I even felt somewhat sorry for her.
But maybe if a big lump sum came rolling in, that sickness of hers might clear up.
Wouldn't even Santa's old man come hauling a money sack...

I lay sprawled on my back wrapped in my padded robe while lost in such fantasies.
The truth was, the sake I drank with Ikebe had hit my empty stomach oddly and left me quite drunk.
The ceiling boards - so blackened with soot their wood grain was indistinguishable - each grew sharply defined and began swaying gently like they were floating on waves.
And before I knew it - shameful as it was to admit - I'd slipped into a pleasant doze...

I don’t know how much time had passed when I abruptly opened my eyes. A sudden chill ran through me, making my body shudder violently. Thinking I might have caught a cold—damn it all—I jerked upright, only to be shocked by the sight of Oku crouched before the household altar ablaze with candles, chanting “Amaterasu deity, Hirume deity...” Her slightly soiled cotton kimono and threadbare merino obi caught the dim electric light from shoulders to waist, while disheveled hair tumbling over her hunched neck quivered with eerie unease. Oh! I thought. Her silhouette bore an uncanny resemblance to her deceased mother. Only the greasy black locks clinging to her scalp differed from Mother’s dry reddish frizz—a disparity that made it all the more unsettling. I found myself standing involuntarily...the instant I moved, she whipped around sharply. Her face so resembled Mother’s death mask that the mere comparison chilled me—yet no, this remained unmistakably Oku’s visage. Worse still, she wore an expression suggesting she’d been waiting in secret for me to rise, feigning obliviousness all along. The vividness of this impression left me—not her—utterly discomposed.

“What are you doing?!” I shouted.

She let out a dismissive snort and wore a faint smirk, her upper lip puffed up in contempt.
I remained rooted in place, staring fixedly at her.
Should I kick her with my foot...or wrap both arms around her...? Neither option felt quite right in my heart. Out of sheer irritation, I stomped over and blew out the candles on the household altar.

“What are you doing, you blasphemer?!”

With that cry, she lunged at my feet.
In that instant, I dodged it, retreated to the hibachi, and sat down.

"Quit doing that forever and just go the hell to sleep already."

“You’re the one who should go to sleep…… I’ll stay up all night if I have to…… I understand your dead mother’s feelings better than anyone.”
“What would someone like you know about it, I ask you?”
"You're truly cursed!"
“That’s why we can’t even see the New Year in!”

“Whether we’ll make it through or not—that ain’t decided yet.”

“It’s already decided! The children are still in rags, we can’t even put up pine or shimekazari ropes—how can you say we’ll see the New Year in? We can’t even buy a single rice cake. There’s not a penny left for rice either. If you mean to let us starve, then fine by me!”

“The rice money too…”

“As if there’s any!”
“I just scraped together five yen the other day—not a single penny’s come in since.”
“If it were just me, I wouldn’t care… but with the children and… the unborn child, that won’t do.”

“But is that really certain?”

“It’s certain, I tell you.”

She had declared it so calmly, but I still couldn't fully believe it.
The fact that two months had passed without visible signs might have been due to Mother's illness and death affecting her condition, or perhaps there was simply no morning sickness... I thought, though she had insisted that sometimes morning sickness doesn't occur.
Now that she mentioned it, that might indeed be the case—it should have developed by now...

"In any case, prosperity, huh?"

“What prosperity? How absurd!”

She dismissed it with those words and seemed to ponder something briefly, but with a strangely crumpled, bitter expression, lit the household altar candles again. This time, no matter what was said, she sat perfectly still without offering a single reply.

I had somewhat regained my spirits through “prosperity,” but colliding with her obstinate silence, I gradually grew more despondent.

“Since there’s no way out, let’s just die,” I said. Her demeanor suggested she might readily agree.

Because I thought I had to hold on here... my heart plunged deeper into desperation until the world grew dim.

So I left Oku as she was and entered the next room under the pretense of checking on the children.

The children slept snugly in their crackling-stiff bedding.

I crawled into the futon beside them still wearing my kimono, repeating “Prosperity… prosperity…” as tears began streaming down unbidden.

I pulled the futon over my head, but the loneliness proved unbearable.

Gently reaching out my hand, I stroked Miyo’s cheek.

Then Miyo suddenly awoke crying.

Oku came over.

I turned over and held my breath, feigning sleep.

The rain kept falling.

Listening to its rhythm, I must have drifted off without realizing.

At dawn, I had a dream.
I must have seen many, but I can't remember a single one.
There was an absurdly large, pristine household altar, its sacred paper streamers hanging like white wisteria blossoms beneath which several completely naked children were dancing.
Before my eyes the dance grew increasingly frenzied until it began whirling like a tornado.
Just as I thought it looked dangerous, one child lost their footing and came tumbling down.
I caught them in my hands and tossed them back up to the altar.
They kept falling down one after another.
The children rolled about like rubber balls, their skin smooth as mochi dough.
No matter how many times I threw them back up, they kept taking turns falling.
Though utterly exhausted, I kept catching the falling children in my hands and hurling them upward endlessly...

In the end, I don’t remember what became of it all, but the sight of that child—tumbling like a rubber ball with skin smooth as mochi—being thrown back up to the household altar remained vividly in my mind even after waking.
It was an indescribable feeling—something like irritation and something like joy, a strange sensation.

I stared fixedly at the household Shinto altar while lost in thought.
The radish offerings and sacred streamers were blackened with soot, and on the roof of the tightly shut doors, tattered spiderwebs hung.
Oku, perhaps thinking it too wasteful to even touch it, had not cleaned it once since her mother-in-law’s death.
And amidst that soot and dust, the sakaki's green leaves, its flower holder, and brass candle stand stood out in vivid colors.
Watching this, I felt strangely unsettled.
On top of it all, Oku began appealing to me again about arranging money.
With a feeling of wanting to escape everything, I went out around ten o'clock.
Putting on airs as if I had actual business, I trimmed my nails, shaved my beard, and threw on my one and only meisen kimono before heading out.

But in reality, there was nothing at all left to pursue.
Every place that might have given me even a little financial help had already been canvassed, and not a single soul remained who would say they'd wait for my reply until whenever—someone who might keep my hopes tenuously alive.
I wandered aimlessly with that proverbial notion that even a stray dog finds sticks if it keeps moving—all because I couldn't bear staying in one place.
Through streets lined with pine and bamboo decorations, bustling with year-end sales and shoppers, I walked like an unleashed cur, nostrils twitching as my feet carried me wherever they would.
Before others' eyes I could still affect that lean pride—that pretense things might somehow work out—but finding myself alone amidst the jostling crowd, battered by icy winds, there was nothing left to salvage.
Last night's rain had spared us snow only to leave roads churned to mud beneath a milky overcast sky that threatened more cold precipitation at any moment.
If only I'd had an overcoat, I might still cut some meager figure...
Why must I be this poor?
Why can't I find work?
Why does the world insist on demarcations like New Year's?...I grew utterly sickened by my own wretchedness.
Being poor while working yourself raw would still be tolerable.
But having no work—being unable to eat—that's true misery.
Why hadn't I found employment sooner?...Ah well—at least keeping vigil for Mother until her forty-ninth day passed counts as some small mercy.
And from New Year's fifteenth onward, work will come.
However destitute I am now, it's only until then.
What does it matter what happens?
Walk—walk with all your might!

I walked on and on.
But trudging through the muddied road in my wooden clogs, I eventually grew weary.
Wanting to rest a little, as I walked along lost in thought, I came upon Ueno Park and remembered there was a zoo.

Inside the zoo, the layout had completely changed from when I’d last visited long ago.
But the familiar elephants and bears remained just as they had been.
I wandered aimlessly around for a while, then sat down before the large waterfowl cage.
Perhaps because of the year-end, visitors were sparse, and amidst the quietness, only the birds' cries remained sharp.
I remained motionless for a long time, picking at my nose.
A chill ran down my back, but there was nothing to be done about it.
Through the haze of thin clouds, the dull sun gradually sank.

As my body grew colder, I began to feel hungry.
I stood up with a wry smile.
I bought two five-sen bags of rice crackers meant for animal feed and hid them in my sleeves.
After tossing a few crackers to the elephant for appearances' sake, I slipped out of the zoo.
Walking through the park's wooded shadows, I gnawed at the crackers.
I found myself unbearably wretched.

The crackers I'd been chewing only made my stomach worse.
The hard lumps I'd wolfed down felt like they were squirming in the pit of my empty gut.
When about an hour had passed, I couldn't help but bolt into an udon shop to stuff myself full.

Then, when evening came, I found myself in the same predicament as the day before.
No matter how I looked at it, going straight home like this felt somewhat difficult.
I thought Ikebe might come about Sasaki, but even that felt like too much trouble now.
When I looked at the bottom of the coin purse, thirty sen still remained.
What Oku had given me for today's daily allowance—that was all that remained.
While pondering what to use it for, a small movie hut suddenly caught my eye, so I truly emptied my purse and went inside.

However, when I entered and immediately lit the brazier, a woman in a white work coat came over and said, "Please smoke over there."
I obediently headed toward that narrow smoking area.
A small table holding a tin basin filled with water was surrounded by crude wooden stools.
I sat down there and, resting both elbows on the table, absentmindedly blew cigarette smoke.
I felt unbearably oppressed by the narrator’s booming voice, the dazzling film, and the audience packed tightly into the hall.
From beneath the part of my mind that found it all absurd, a self-destructive streak of rebellion welled up.
Though I didn’t know what it was directed at, I felt that, well, even I...
And I sat there deep in thought.

Never before had I felt so utterly alone as in that moment.
Everything grew distant, leaving me with the sensation of being cast out alone at the center of the world.
The narrator was holding forth, hundreds of people were packed tightly, outside crowded trams rumbled past, the hurried footsteps of multitudes echoed, automobiles raced by... But all of this belonged to another world that had nothing to do with me.
I am all alone.
This body and this life alone are my world!... As I thought this, I began to feel remarkably free and refreshed.
I felt like I could do anything.

That's right—anything! Facing New Year penniless... If money's needed, stealing what I need... Colluding with Sasaki to squeeze out some cash... If it comes to it, abandoning my wife and children to live alone... Smashing that household altar to pieces... There's nothing I can't do. What are they all trying to do, ganging up on me like this? If they want to come at me, let them try! I'll laugh in their faces!

At that moment, even I myself didn’t quite know what I was thinking.
But simply put, I became filled with an intensely free and powerful spirit.
I felt a chaotic force capable of anything squirming within me.
And laying my forehead—which seemed to glow with some inner light—upon the grimy little table, I remained lost in thought for a long while.

Somehow sensing the commotion around me, I suddenly came to my senses—it was precisely the intermission break of the film. Four or five people came into the smoking area. I stood up, left the smoking area, and stepped outside the movie hut.

I was so agitated that even I thought it strange.
My legs felt light, the cold air refreshing, a breeze flowing smoothly deep into my chest, even the vivid streetlights seeming unfamiliar.
As I thought, "This is downright absurd," I grew dazed and before I knew it felt I'd lost myself.
Yet still I remained lighthearted.

After that, I wandered about for a long time.
And before I knew it, I had come near my house.
At the very moment I noticed the familiar hardware store on the corner, someone tapped my shoulder from behind—I couldn't tell which had come first.
I turned around to look.
Ikebe and Taniyama were standing there.

“We just came from your house, I tell you,” said Ikebe.

“I see,” I replied.

“Just our luck running into you here. But no matter how much we called out, you didn’t answer back—harsh move, I tell ya!”

“I see,” I said.

“Where’d you been wandering since morning?”

“There’s no particular place—I was just walking.”

“Just wandering around? That don’t exist!”

“If I don’t keep walking or something, there’s nothing else to do.”

“That’s a riot,” Taniyama said, bursting into laughter in the middle of the thoroughfare.

As I listened to his booming voice welling up from that hulking frame of his, I started feeling exhilarated.

“Why don’t we get a drink somewhere?” I suggested.
“I’m flat broke myself, but you two must have some cash.”

“Aye, that’ll do.”

And the three of us entered a small nearby bar.

Ikebe was watching me with peculiar intensity.
I felt slightly irritated.
Perhaps sensing my expression, he asked:

"You manage to get the money sorted?"

"Ain't got it."

"Then what the hell you plannin' to do?"

"Nothin' to be done. New Year's comin' whether we like it or not."

At that moment Taniyama suddenly declared that if I was truly stuck, he'd find a way.
Couldn't manage much, but forty or fifty sen might be workable...
I gave a slight start.
It felt neither like surprise nor gratitude—more like brushing against live wires.
Forcing that down, I said—

“Is it really okay… when things are this tight?”

“Don’t talk such nonsense.”
“Well, wait till tomorrow—I’ll figure something out. ……If you were in such dire straits, you should’ve come to me sooner.”

“But you’re always broke yourself, aren’t you?”

“When you’re scraping bottom, that’s when you find cracks to slip through.”
“……Don’t worry—I’ll take care of it.”

“Really? …Then I’ll leave it to you.”

And then, while scolding myself for my own weakness, I found myself tearing up. Partly to hide this embarrassment, I kept gulping down sake.

“Why don’t we get going already?” Ikebe said abruptly.
“You’d better head home now—she’s been waiting anxiously.”

From Ikebe’s recent behavior, I’d noticed he had something up his sleeve.
This suspicion grew clearer with his latest words.
When I thought about it, their silence about Sasaki seemed strange.
If they wouldn’t mention it, I decided I’d bring it up myself.

“What about that Sasaki business?”

“Well… let’s talk it over tomorrow.”

I pressed him hard on that evasive reply.
He stayed silent for a moment, then after exchanging looks with Taniyama, finally started talking.

That morning, Ikebe had stopped by Sasaki’s place.
He was told Sasaki had just stepped out.
So he went again in the evening.
Then an errand boy appeared.
Sasaki had gone traveling to Kansai, came the reply—he wouldn’t return until after the New Year pines were taken down.
Ikebe asked to see his wife.
But the errand boy said she was out too.
Ikebe returned uneasy—something didn’t add up no matter how he thought about it.
That’s when Taniyama showed up.
Putting their heads together, they realized someone must’ve tipped off Sasaki.
Meaning he’d made himself scarce on purpose.
The two men seethed with anger.
They’d have to beat sense into him—forcefully if needed—to settle their rage.
But bringing more men risked botching things again, so they resolved to handle it themselves—that very night….

“Then why did you come to my house?” I asked.

“Just passing by…” Ikebe trailed off evasively.

He’s lying, I thought.
Oku must have babbled something unnecessary—that’s why he was trying to avoid me.
But I had no time to dwell on that.
Now that things had come to this, I couldn’t back down.
I stubbornly insisted on going with them.
In the end, even Ikebe relented.

By the time we left the bar and headed toward Sasaki's house, it was already past eleven o'clock.
Patches of clearing showed in the sky as a cold north wind swept low across the ground.
We hurried as fast as we could.
In about thirty minutes, we arrived before Sasaki's house.
But figuring out how to apprehend Sasaki proved troublesome.
If we barged in only to find him truly absent, it would make for a humiliating farce.
Yet there was no means to summon him either.
We had no choice but to verify his presence from outside.

The front door was already tightly shut. We pressed our ears against it and listened, but inside was deathly quiet—not a single sound could be heard. Moreover, we couldn’t linger there eavesdropping for long. Sporadic passersby were still coming and going. As I was thinking this was a problem, Ikebe found the alley by the back entrance. The back door wasn’t locked. We sneaked in quietly like burglars. We reached the dead-end kitchen area and hid ourselves there. Inside, there seemed to be someone clattering about doing something. It fell utterly silent. Not a single human voice could be heard. We looked up resentfully at the second floor diagonally above. We clung to the faint hope offered by the light seeping through the door’s gap. However, no matter how long we waited, we couldn’t make out any voices resembling Sasaki’s. They might have already gone to sleep, or perhaps they weren’t actually there. “What should we do…?” we whispered to each other. They had no idea how much longer they should wait—no further clues presented themselves. Finally, Taniyama grew impatient and threw a single small stone at the storm shutters on the second floor. There was no response. Our bodies shuddered and grew utterly cold.

We repeatedly ventured out to the main street and sneaked into the back entrance again. Gradually, a gloomy, indescribable feeling came over us. But even so, we couldn’t very well slink back home now. It was like slipping inexorably into a bottomless abyss. The more we waited, the more our hearts became bound by the very act of waiting. And so the distance between two choices—whether to forcibly tear our hearts away and leave or to muster our resolve and charge in—began closing inch by inch. We became rooted to the spot one last time in the alley.

At that moment—a godsend—clomping footsteps echoed inside the house, and no sooner had the back door swung open than a sudden light burst out.
The profile that stepped into that light was, unexpectedly, Asai’s.
In his hand dangled a pair of geta.
Next, Sasaki came into view.
The two men took two or three steps forward.

We were utterly stunned by the sheer unexpectedness of it all.
When the shock subsided, every circumstance became clear at once.
There was no longer room for doubt—nor need for questions.
All three of us sprang out simultaneously.
They stood frozen.
Then they braced themselves.
Both sides glared at each other for an instant.
They pushed against one another with all their might—will against will.
And when our breath gave out, I was first to leap at Sasaki, smashing my fist into his cheek.
Sasaki thudded to the ground—or so I thought—but even as that notion formed, he grabbed the geta from his feet and swung them at my head as he surged upward.
There was no time to dodge.
A gong-like crash reverberated through my skull.
My vision swam.
After that, everything became a frenzy.

It was over in almost an instant.
The three of us stood there dazedly, exchanging looks.
On the ground, Sasaki and Asai had collapsed and were groaning.
We left the spot in silence.
What was strange was that from the very beginning, we hadn’t uttered a single word, and when leaving, we hadn’t thrown out a single parting remark or spat in their direction.
And we walked over ten blocks down the wide street, remaining utterly silent.
At that moment, Taniyama threw away the stick he had been gripping in his hand for the first time.

“What happened?”

“Now we’ve taken those bastards down at the shins.”

After walking another four or five blocks, Taniyama suddenly spoke to me.

"I'll really get the money arranged."

Not understanding what he meant, I looked back at his face.
And in that instant, I realized his promise at the bar had been a lie, and that this time he was serious.

I wanted to laugh.
I felt like I shouldn’t laugh, but laughter burst out on its own.
Taniyama also laughed.
Ikebe furrowed his brows—though what had displeased him, I couldn’t tell—and glared at me.
But I didn’t care.
We three felt in the depths of our hearts that we were true comrades.

Eventually, I parted ways with them.

“Tomorrow night I’m going, I tell you,” said Taniyama.

“I’m coming too,” said Ikebe.

I wandered back alone.
Ikebe and Taniyama would probably part ways after exchanging just a few words too, I thought, and again I felt like laughing.
I wondered if I should just let out a hearty laugh—but as I was thinking this, my head grew foggy.

When I reached the front of the house, for some reason I peered ahead and behind through the darkness, confirmed there were no figures in the dimly lit alley, then quietly opened the lattice door.
Then I stomped up into the house.

The first thing that caught my eye was the blazing light of the candles on the household altar.
Just as I began to feel slightly irritated, Oku looked up at me, her face changing color.

“What’s wrong with you—blood’s streaming from your head.”

“Huh?!”

When I put my hand to my head, the area above my left ear had swollen into a round shape, with viscous blood oozing out.
"That must be it..." I thought, and at the same moment, my head began throbbing intensely.
Without saying a word, I went straight to the kitchen, washed off the blood, and cooled my head.
It felt good.

After a while, I came back again, but during that time, Oku had turned as rigid as stone by the brazier. And when she saw me, she suddenly launched into a tirade.

“I knew it! I never thought you were that kind of man.”
“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”
“Not even a shred of decency!”
“...I won’t take another copper coin from you.”
“Take anything from you? I’d sooner starve than touch your filthy money!”
“Must’ve brought home stacks of it, didn’t you?”
“Go dump that trash in the gutter where it belongs!”
“You’ve got no shame left in you!....”

I was dumbfounded.

“What’re you talki…” I couldn’t get the words out fully.

“No matter how much you act innocent, I know exactly what happened.”
“Come on, confess already!”
“You got beaten up by Ikebe and Taniyama, didn’t you?”

When I heard that far, I finally came to understand.
I forced a bitter smile and asked in return.

“Did you say something to Ikebe?”

“Of course I did!”
“I didn’t know you were that kind of man!”
“I told the faction—‘My husband isn’t the kind of man who’d collude with Sasaki.’ … But really, smearing mud even on my face—what do you intend to do about that?”

“Hold on—don’t jump to conclusions,” I said while sitting down there. “By tomorrow night, everything’ll be clear.”
“Ikebe and Taniyama are coming together.”
“Taniyama’s supposed to arrange the money, I tell you.”

“Huh? Then what happened, really….”

The sight of her face—which had been tightly drawn in seriousness—now gaping open with eyes and mouth agape was slightly comical.
I laughed while telling her roughly what had happened.
And when I reached the part about parting ways with Ikebe and Taniyama, she choked back a sob and began to cry.

“Who cries over this? Idiot!”

But even as I said it, I found myself at a loss for what to do. Well, let her cry it out, I thought, and lit a cigarette.

At that moment, I shuddered violently as if doused with cold water.
When I glanced idly into the next room through the half-open sliding door, something shaped like a human was sitting on a futon, faintly illuminated by the slanted electric light.
When I focused my eyes properly—Shinichi had sat up and was looking this way with a sleep-dazed face.

“What are you doing up? Go to sleep!” I yelled.

But after that, I couldn’t stay still anymore and headed in that direction.
Shinichi had burrowed his head into the futon.
I laid him down properly in the futon.

“You’re a good boy, so go to sleep now.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

And I stayed by his side, holding his hand until I thought he had fallen asleep.

I quietly stood up and returned to my original spot. Oku had somehow ended up sitting before the household altar and begun chanting, “Heavenly Shining Deities, Divine Illuminators…” “Well, let her do as she pleases,” I thought, and hunched over the brazier. My head throbbed unbearably. To that pain, her whispered prayers began to harmonize. To make matters worse, I found myself wanting to sit before the household Shinto altar. I was growing more and more agitated. The more I endured, the more my mind inclined toward sinister thoughts.

“Hey, cut it out already,” I couldn’t bear it any longer and said.

She didn’t respond.
She didn’t budge an inch, her hips firmly planted.

“If I tell you to stop… then why don’t you fucking stop?!”

I lashed out at her with a harshness I'd never before unleashed.
As I remained still, my breath grew stifled and sweat beaded on my forehead.
Yet she showed no sign of stopping.
I stood up, went over, and jabbed her shoulder.

“Just stop tonight.”
“That’s enough already!”

She abruptly stopped her prayer chant, but after a moment, began to speak in a tearful voice.

“No, I won’t stop.”
“I’m praying in earnest tonight...”
“The fact that I’d always done this half-heartedly before now fills me with dread.”
“...Don’t you think?”
“It must be because the gods protected us.”
“It’s a miracle we weren’t struck by divine punishment!”
“Tonight I’ll pray... truly pray... from the heart... I’ll keep praying till dawn!... You should pray too.”

She began chanting incomprehensible words again.
Her hips sat rooted as if unmovable by any lever, clasped hands trembling while she prayed from her very core.
I stood frozen behind her, staring fixedly at the altar candles.
My eyes burned hot, greasy sweat threatening to pour down my forehead.

“Stop it!” I yelled at the top of my voice.

However, she didn’t budge an inch.

“If you don’t stop, I’ll smash the household altar!”

I too was now completely frantic.
Tears welled up in my eyes.
This only made my emotions grow even more intense.
I took two or three steps closer to the household altar.

“Amaterasu no Kami, Hirume no Kami—what damned gods are those anyway?
Just stop already!
...I’ll smash it to pieces!”

When I saw how composed she remained, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I suddenly grabbed the household Shinto altar.
I’d meant to just touch it lightly, but somehow more force went into it than intended, and the altar creaked ominously.
The sakaki flower vase toppled over, and water came splashing down over my head.
I could no longer hold myself back.
I clenched my teeth, tears spilling from my eyes as my contorted hands grabbed the box atop the altar, then hurled it with every ounce of strength against the nearby wall’s pillar.

“Ah!” Oku cried out as an uncanny noise rang through the air.
Within the swirling dust, glimmering light scattered in all directions.
Countless 50-sen silver coins lay scattered across the floor.

I held my breath and stood frozen.
Mother’s face loomed suddenly before my eyes.
I felt a terror as if I’d truly blasphemed against heaven itself.
I dropped into a crouch and scrabbled through the debris for any written message.
But there was nothing—only scattered talismans, prayer beads, and shards of Seto ware.
Clutching at these remnants from the shattered box and flinging them aside with trembling hands, I spoke through tear-choked tremors:

“Hurry up and gather them all.”

And then, I placed that altar box—which still had a few large 50-sen silver coins remaining at the bottom—between Oku and myself.