Pathway to Japanese Literature

Sano Yōkichi experienced what he called “episodes of cheerfulness” once or twice a month. At first, it was merely a hazy, smoke-like, faintly turbid mood… This gradually thickened into a murky stagnation within him until it produced two distinct effects. The first was that his mind grew severely dull. A sort of toxic miasma would rise within his skull, making complex thoughts impossible, deadening sensitivity to subtleties, stripping away all nuance and shading until everything emerged with crude overtness. It resembled an overcast white sky. The second effect was that his body suddenly became invigorated. His blood volume increased to excess, and in a manner suggesting his muscles could no longer endure their own vigor, he found himself craving some form of intense labor. Then at a certain moment these two separate effects snapped together into one. At this, he let slip a faint, eerie smirk… He himself came to regard this state as humanity’s beast-like transformation.

The beast-like transformation of humanity was not necessarily something dishonorable or unpleasant. On the contrary—for Sano Yōkichi, it was a pleasant, vivid time. It meant stepping beyond such matters as social appearances, reserve, and self-respect. And he would visualize before him the alluring figures and scents of women who sold their charms, making various choices in his imagination.

――I should go out today.

With a spring in his step that felt almost like dancing, he went over to Toshiko. Beside her, the baby—now about five months old—slept peacefully inside the dome-shaped mosquito net. He crawled on his stomach into the mosquito net, stuck only his head inside, and lightly poked the infant’s soft cheek with his fingertip.

“Oh, you mustn’t do that.” “Hasn’t he only just fallen asleep?”

“Hahaha, he’s asleep, huh?” Still startled by that loud laughter, Toshiko furrowed her brows slightly as she peered at the baby—and he sprang up while gazing at her face. Toshiko’s furrowed brows gradually relaxed, and an innocent smile rose to her cheeks like a reflection of the baby’s sleeping face. Along with her, he too broke into a beaming smile.

“A child’s sleeping face is such a lovely thing,” he blurted out impulsively, carelessly, “It’s just like the sea.”

“Huh? The sea...?” “I just want to see the sea.” “Then why don’t you go and see it?”

“Hmm, you’re right. Maybe I should go now. But…” “What is it…?” “It’s still hot, and…”

“So wouldn’t the sea be nice and cool?” “Hmm, I wonder… Shall we go together?”

“Me?” Her eyes held a glare tinged with coquettishness. “Because I know I can’t go…”

“Why the hell?”

“What about the baby?” “Ah—the child.” “You’re such a mean person, playing dumb like that… Go ahead and go.” “Hmm… But then again, looking at the baby’s face is nice too…” “Well…” He was someone who claimed not to care much for the baby and rarely held it. The usual dissatisfaction that flashed fleetingly in Toshiko’s eyes—he immediately tried to seize upon it. “No, I… I really do like the baby’s sleeping face.” “It’s just… well, it feels like some kind of otherworldly purity, you know?” “When a baby is always sleeping, it’s truly wonderful, but…”

“Then wouldn’t a doll be the same?” “That’s right—a living doll… It’d be wonderful if such a thing were born.” “There you go again. …That’s why you’re hopeless.” “Huh… Am I really that hopeless?” “What are you so impressed about? …Just go already.” “You’re just saying nonsense, and you’ll wake the baby again.” “Is there no place for me in this world? …Maybe I’ll go out… Where would that be… The closest spot with the best view of the sea…”

Shinagawa… Ōmori… Haneda… Muttering these possibilities to himself, he slowly settled into position and began shaving his beard.

—The sea doesn’t matter at all. I... No, it's you being like that that's cute. Precisely because you're cute... Such reasoning shouldn't have made sense, but at any rate, he found Toshiko endearing in those moments—and the more endearing she was, the more his spirits lifted, until the idea of eagerly heading out toward the bustling streets settled perfectly in his heart.

“Dinner… well, I’ll grab something somewhere. …Might be back a bit late tonight.” “Isn’t coming home late your usual routine?” To Toshiko’s unsuspectingly smiling gaze, he responded with a smile. “Ah, absolutely.” “Late at night, strolling aimlessly through streets where the trains have already stopped running is truly a wonderful feeling.” “You probably wouldn’t understand….” “…………” He wanted to grab that vague, elusive face of hers—that figure—hug her tight and shake her. Restraining himself, he took her hand, lifted his heels, and tiptoed through an imitation of a dance.

“No! What are you doing?”

“Hahaha, just a little….” “That’s not like you.” She wore an expression that seemed to call it absurd, yet still looked happy.

“That’s right—for me, a walk is best. …Well, I’ll be off then.”

And he dashed out of the house.

—Domestic harmony. I love my wife.

—I did well.

These two nebulous thoughts made his anticipation of that day’s debauchery all the more enjoyable.

The evening streets—trains ran, cars sped, bicycles raced. Pedestrians walked briskly…. Everything was rushing toward its destination.

Amidst all this, Sano Yōkichi walked alone, strolling aimlessly.

—Still a bit too early, huh. Yet in that moment, the fact that it was too early did not trouble him in the least. Anticipating debauchery was also one of the items on his program.

The streets and shopfronts were filled with glowing lights. Amidst the bustle, the city began its nocturnal transformation with leisurely grace.

—As for me, I need to get some food. Something as simple as possible but still nutritious…

The high white ceiling, neatly arranged immaculate tables, potted plants with freshly watered soil—amidst these surroundings, he took his seat. Avoiding the set meal, he ordered four or five à la carte dishes he fancied, along with beer…

Boisterous customers… waiters… all of them were strangers with heads like rows of pumpkins. Amidst them all, from a corner table across the room, a single downcast profile gradually emerged with vivid clarity… Takeda Keiji… He recognized him unmistakably. With a beer glass before him, he sat still as stone.

—I wonder if he hasn’t noticed.

Sano stood up and walked over. “Hey,” he said in a tone that suggested he was about to clap Takeda’s shoulder, “what do you want to do?”

Takeda looked up with a face as if waking from a dream toward his friend’s welcoming smile. “Oh…” “It’s been a while.” “Mmm.” “How have you been since then….” “Well, why don’t you come over to that table?”

“Yeah.”

Despite Takeda’s apparent disinterest, Sano called the waiter anyway. And when they faced each other across the table, there lingered an awkward tension. Around nearly the same time, a baby had been born into Sano’s household and Takeda had lost his partner—though they hadn’t formally married, a woman he’d been cohabiting with for over two years. Amidst the upheaval of both events, though the two men had once been close companions who visited each other often, they had gradually grown distant.

Takeda’s face had noticeably lost its luster, and the flesh of his cheeks had hollowed out. “Have you eaten?” “Already ate.”

“Well… If you like, since I’ve only just started, want to join me?”

“No—really—I’ve already eaten.”

But it didn’t sit right with Sano. There was no particular reason why, but he kept feeling convinced that Takeda hadn’t eaten yet. “Really?” “Ah, it’s true.” Takeda maintained a resolutely cold expression.

Sano continued his meal, and Takeda drank beer.

“I kept meaning to visit, but somehow never got around to it…” “No—we’re both the same. …Is everyone at your place well?” “Ah—they’re all well.”

“Both of you….” “Both of them… Hmm, they’re doing well.”

Toshiko’s face flashed through Sano’s mind. At the same time, he was overcome by a strange, ticklish feeling. “Have you… settled down yet?” “If you say I’ve settled down… I might’ve settled too much, if anything…” “That’s good.” And Sano gazed fixedly at Takeda’s face. “The thing about having your wife die—you can’t really understand it unless you’ve experienced it yourself. That’s what I thought, and after that… well, I ended up not going through with it…” “No, I was grateful for that. I’d much rather be left undisturbed than have someone awkwardly try to comfort me with forced words.”

“Hmm, I suppose that’s how it is.”

“Why….” “There’s no particular ‘why’… but really—what did it feel like? You must’ve been in quite a bind.” “At the time, I was in a real bind.” “But... well, since we didn’t have children, it was manageable... but once everything was over and done with and I’d settled down—that’s when it really got to me.” “What I mean is…” “There’s still something lingering, you know.” “Of course that would linger.”

“The thing is，it’s strange．If it were just about my wife’s belongings still being around or the care of my daily needs starting to slip—those would be expected things，but…” “Is there still more?”

“There is. … But let’s stop this talk.”

“If it’s something you don’t want to talk about, I can’t force you…” “Ah well, everything will sort itself out in time.” “Actually, being left by someone’s death is an unpleasant thing.” “I too remember when my mother died.” “But before you know it, it becomes something from the distant past, you know.” “……”

Takeda blinked his darkened eyes and made a gloomy expression. His sallow, gaunt face looked like a mask under the electric lamp’s stark white light. “Everything comes down to time. You shouldn’t dwell on things so much.”

“It shouldn’t exist…” “That’s unnatural if you consider it normally.” The mask-like face suddenly became real. “But surely even you’ve experienced this.” “Imagine moving furnishings from one room to another—say, abruptly taking away chests or cupboards that had long occupied fixed spots.” “Then when you absentmindedly enter that room, you startle.” “Only the space where the chest once stood becomes utterly empty.” “Emptiness can’t be filled by anything else.” “Unless you bring back the very chest that was there before, it’ll never be satisfied… You grasp this, yes?”

“Hmm….” “It’s exactly the same thing.” “Since my wife died, I’ve become indifferent to things like inconveniences in daily life or having various mementos around.” “But something that’s only my wife’s form… a physical, three-dimensional… something exactly like her flesh has become emptiness around me.” “People talk about emptiness in general terms, but emptiness itself can assume a definite shape.” “Emptiness shaped exactly like my wife moves all through the house.” “Whatever you bring can’t fill it… unless it’s something exactly like that—unless you bring my wife’s very flesh—this emptiness shaped like her drifts softly through the house, moving everywhere.”

“……” Sano was stuck for an answer. “I think what people call old ghosts ultimately refer to that kind of emptiness.” “Thinking of ghosts as having some kind of substance is wrong.” “Isn’t it just emptiness possessing a fixed form?” “It’s an emptiness that can only be filled by the very flesh of the living person themselves.” “It’s just something invisible yet perceptible… But if emptiness itself were to become visible…”

“That… would be troubling….” “It’s not a question of whether it’s troubling or not.” “It’s something utterly beyond anticipation.” “Anyone would find that…” “But if you think about it, that too might be because of love.” “Love… that’s something entirely separate from such feelings.” “Because I’m even feeling some kind of eerie terror.”

As he listened, Sano too had begun to feel something strange welling up within him. He wanted to dismiss it as mere fancy, but facing Takeda’s tone and expression head-on, he found himself unable to voice that dismissal outright.

After a period of silence, Takeda’s face once again took on the semblance of a melancholic mask.

“Shall we walk outside a bit?”

“Yeah.”

The streetlights were much dimmer than those inside, but to Sano, it felt as if he had stepped into a far brighter place. A light wind swept over the heads of the many pedestrians. High in the sky, two or three stars shone. From radio speakers here and there, indifferent noise streamed out.

Takeda walked straight ahead in silence, as if angry at something. Clad in an unlined kimono with a heko obi and leaning on a thick Chinese bamboo cane... Emptiness possessing a fixed form... emptiness moving about....

Sano repeated such things in his head.

After some time had passed since Takeda suddenly appeared in the restaurant, chattered about strange things, made that mask-like melancholy face, and was now walking along in silence—if Takeda himself, who had form, were emptiness… If he were to rebuke him with a fist, and if that fist went right through him…

Sano found himself absurd even in his own eyes. At that very moment, impulsively, he tapped Takeda’s shoulder. He felt something bony, insubstantial, and hard.

“Huh?”

When Takeda turned around, it was Sano who looked more startled.

“But… isn’t this strange?”

He didn’t even know what he meant… he’d just blurted it out that way. “What’s this, out of nowhere….”

The curious, sharp gaze pierced Takeda’s existence with vivid rawness.

“What… just…”

As he kept thinking, Sano began to calm down. Several young women with cheerful expressions passed by, men too….

“There’s this thing that happens, you know.” “After two or three years of marriage, what you might call a period of ennui sets in… Anyway, you lose interest in married life, and a time of faint disillusionment arrives.” “Everyone seems to go through that.” “And they come to envy free single people.” “Married life starts to feel strangely constricting in every way, and they even begin imagining things like ‘What if my wife died?’” “Of course, it would be troublesome if she died, but if she were to quietly disappear—well, that’s about the extent of it.” “If that’s something common among all men, then you can’t really scorn them for it either.”

“That’s something only men who have wives think about.” “That may be true… but it’s all about how you look at things.” “Maybe two or three years is all married life can endure.” “Are you like that too?”

“I…” “No, I do love my wife, and I don’t want her to disappear or anything… But still, how should I put this… There are times I want to break free from the cage.” “Escape from the cage…” “Well, what can I say… forgetting everything and flying around freely… I guess you could call it that.” “But aren’t you always flying around freely as it is?”

“Well… just a little.”

Sano smiled uneasily. Things from earlier in the day, all sorts of things, were floating through his mind.

“What do you mean by that?” “Ah, never mind… More importantly, how about we go out drinking again properly tonight? It’s good to have a change of pace once in a while.”

“Drinking’s fine, but…”

Takeda stopped and stared intently into Sano’s face. “You’ve started fooling around lately, haven’t you.” “Well, it’s not like I’m really playing around or anything.” “Very rarely….”

“Are you buying women?” “…………”

Sano, who had been smiling cheerfully, collided with something unforeseen. He and Takeda had occasionally summoned geisha and reveled in the past, though they’d never frequented assignation houses. That same Takeda...

“And my wife….”

From slight surprise, Sano abruptly shifted to a cheerful and clownish tone. “It’s fine.” “She doesn’t know a thing.” “And even if she did find out, it’s not like she’d get jealous over something like that.” “I immediately forget both the woman’s face and name.” “Well, it’s just occasionally having meals outside the family—nothing more than that.” “And if I perk up, then what’s wrong with that?”

“That’s absurd…” “It’s actually like that, so there’s no helping it.” “It’s nothing—just a slight stimulating scent, that’s all.” “Speaking of scents—there’s an interesting story.” “I have a friend who’s a medical scholar—he once got the idea to try women’s hair oil in his hospital lab.” “You see, he bonds glass to glass to block air flow when running experiments checking blood oxygen levels in those glass containers.” “Normally they use Vaseline to seal the glass, but its adhesive strength is pretty weak.” “So he tried hair oil instead—worked surprisingly well… But when you work the hair oil between your fingers, that pungent smell hits your nose…” “A solemn laboratory steeped in chemical odors.” “In that environment…the hair oil’s scent…and suddenly memories of the pleasure district come rushing back…” “When that happens, he can’t focus that day—but after a night out, he throws himself into experiments twice as hard starting the next morning…or so he claims.” “For ordinary men, these indulgences become everything…and yet nothing at all.”

As they talked, they reached the bridge. Oily, viscous water reflected the streetlamp’s light without a single ripple.

“Well then, I’ll take my leave here.”

Takeda suddenly said. He had donned a mask of melancholy.

“Huh… Aren’t we going to have a drink together?”

“No, let’s leave it for next time.” “I have some business to attend to today….”

“But…” “I’ll go soon. …Yes, let’s go see the baby.”

“…………”

Sano was taken aback. Even after being left alone, he stood there in a daze. Before long, an odd sensation welled up within him.

Well, what should I do now? Should I just take off?

Streetlights and brightly lit shops and strangers passing by….

Amidst it all, he stood chillingly alone.

Four or five days later, in the afternoon.

“You had a visitor today—Mr. Takeda came.” When Sano returned from outside, Toshiko reported to him as if it were a major incident. “Oh, Takeda?”

“Yes. He waited quite a long time—about two hours—but since you didn’t come home…” “I wonder if he had some business.” “I asked him, but he said he didn’t have any particular business. …He mentioned that you met him the other day.”

“Ah, right—I forgot to mention…” Sano was startled. Given the timing, he had intended to later vaguely mention having met Takeda two or three days prior, but it had remained unspoken. Toshiko wore a faintly suspicious expression. “Two whole hours… What did he talk about?”

“It wasn’t anything significant… He just sat there silently, as if talking was too much trouble, and kept staring at the baby.” “Since his wife passed away, he must be lonely after all.” “Well, that’s…” “Oh, right—he said something similar to what you did.” “That the baby’s scent resembles fruit…” “See? I told you.” “But when I mentioned how you said looking at her sleeping face makes you think of the sea, he suddenly burst into loud laughter.” “It startled me.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” “But what could have been so funny?”

“He probably remembered something odd. …Anyway, maybe I should go see him.”

“He said he’d come again tonight or tomorrow.” “Tonight or tomorrow… I wonder if he really has some business after all.”

Sano found himself vaguely troubled. That recent incident—meeting at an ill-advised hour and rambling on about improper matters—or rather, he now recalled the entire episode as something fundamentally disquieting.

Toshiko also seemed somehow worried.

“No, it might be nothing at all.”

“But it was strange—the way he’d sometimes just stare fixedly at the baby… I almost felt scared.” “Ha ha ha, that’s ridiculous.”

Oh, is that all? Sano laughed and left it at that.

But the following evening, when Takeda came to visit, both of them went out to the entrance for some reason. “Oh—I’m here again.”

Not just his tone, but his entire demeanor left Sano slightly startled. The gloomy shadow from the other day had faded, revealing the somewhat innocent yet assertive Takeda they were accustomed to. "I was just thinking of coming over myself." "Oh well... You don't have any particular business here." "I just wanted to see the baby's face..."

“…………”

Sano gave a wry smile. “How amusing.” “Oh? Did you take such a liking to it?”

“Oh, I’ve taken quite a liking to it.” “My, what are you saying?” “No, I’m serious. “Sano—you’ve got a child at home. Even if you don’t go wandering about aimlessly, it’d be far better to just gaze at your child’s sleeping face.” “Then I agree too. “What about you…?” “Trivial matters… “Even unwillingly, you must look at it daily.” “Well… If it becomes an obligation… Is that wrong?”

“Oh, it’s not an obligation.” “It’s natural affection, you see.”

“That’s right.” “Calling it an obligation was wrong.” “Who cares about that?” “How trivial…”

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter.”

Something between a joke and seriousness—an elusive quality—had surfaced in Takeda’s demeanor. Sano and Toshiko found themselves watching Takeda’s face.

When Toshiko left her seat, Sano shifted his gaze closer toward Takeda. “Since then… since you stopped coming, your feelings seem to have changed.”

“I… haven’t changed.”

Takeda puckered his mouth and looked back. "But back then, you were terribly gloomy…" "Oh, that… Even I myself sometimes get a chill."

“You get a chill.” “Somehow things become strangely… The surrounding world starts appearing symbolically mysterious. At such times, my late wife’s figure… a sort of image… that very spot turns gapingly hollow—so much it’s like a vacuum—and emerges vividly…” “That… shaped emptiness of yours?”

“So I dash outside with this strangely irrepressible feeling.” “And then aimlessly… I wander.” “I’m like a dog, aren’t I?” “I can’t help but search for something.” “There are times when I peer into the faces of women passing through the streets one by one.” “Without even realizing it myself, you know.” “When I realize it…” Takeda had carved deep wrinkles between his eyebrows, his forehead resembling an old man’s. “In that case, why don’t you try having a bit of fun?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. How could anyone manage such a serious indulgence?” “I do drink quite a lot, but I can’t stand blatant physicality.” “Blatant physicality…” “Isn’t that the case with you…?” “I…” “That’s not how it is.” “Just….”

Sano was at a loss for words. He felt he could neither say it was so nor say it wasn’t.

“The smell of pomade isn’t like that, is it?” “It’s just a smell.” “And I don’t fool around like that.”

“That may be the case…” “No—really. Don’t misunderstand me. That night—the way we talked just felt… off somehow.” “No… I’m glad I met you. …Coming here so often—doesn’t it bother you?”

“『Frequently』... But you’ve only... come twice...” “Yes—it’s about what’s ahead.” “No—not at all...” “If you feel like visiting, even daily would be fine.”

“I won’t come every day.” "...Actually, your baby has quality." “Since then, I’ve wanted to see what sort of baby it was….” “So you found it unexpectedly fine after all?” Sano hunched his neck in a wry smile, but Takeda remained unperturbed.

“Whether it’s good quality or not, I can’t say… but babies as a whole are such splendid things.”

“Why…?” “It’s utterly natural and vividly alive.” “Isn’t that obvious?” “However, there are rather stunted babies too.”

“That’s just sickness, isn’t it? Malnutrition or some illness—in any case, they’re not healthy. If a baby’s healthy, any baby should be natural and vividly alive. They’re in their most vigorous growth phase, straining upward with all their might, so….”

“No, I’m speaking spiritually.”

“Whether spiritually or physically, isn’t it all the same for the baby? It’s when you tack on trivial interpretations that things get twisted.”

As he spoke, Sano suddenly grew angry. An indescribable something surged up from the depths of his chest. “It’s not that I’m adding any interpretation, but…” “It’s a completely incomprehensible world, you know.” “It’s not about understanding or not—it’s the world as it simply exists.”

After remaining silent for a while, Sano called out to Toshiko.

“Huh? What…?” “Bring the baby here.” “Goodness… Why would you…?” “The baby’s sleeping right now, isn’t it?” “It’s really fine—you don’t have to do that….” “What on earth is going on here?” “Oh, it’s nothing important.”

Stared at intently by both Takeda and Toshiko, Sano was momentarily at a loss where to place his heart.

“Because you started saying such strange things, I thought I’d demonstrate it practically, but…” “It’s you who began speaking strangely.”

“It’s not strange.” “Isn’t it just as it is?” “What on earth are you talking about…?” Toshiko looked back and forth between the two men with a puzzled expression. “The baby’s world… What was it again….”

Even Sano had somehow become unable to grasp what it was about.

“Ha ha ha, I forgot.”

He covered it up with laughter, but something still lingered in the depths of his heart. Takeda remained insensitively composed. Or perhaps he felt nothing at all. He began discussing with Toshiko things like whether breast milk was better or cow’s milk was better.

Sano fell silent and lay sprawled there. He stared up at the ceiling and frantically puffed on his cigarette.

When Takeda eventually left, Sano suddenly became angry again. And strangely enough, even to himself, it didn’t make sense. He contorted his face and paced around the house.

“What’s happened… What are you angry about?” “I’m not angry at all.” “But…”

“Just because I don’t understand it myself… doesn’t mean I’m not angry, does it?”

He spat out the words as if talking to himself and continued pacing around the room. Takeda often came.

During the daytime, Sano was often absent. And then—without particularly conversing with Toshiko—he would lie down near the baby’s dome-shaped mosquito net, peering at the child or spacing out before suddenly leaving as if remembering something. When the child woke up, was taken out of the mosquito net, and bounced on their parents’ laps, Takeda would tilt his head and watch intently, murmuring to himself in admiration. “Mr. Takeda is strange, you know. “He’s completely smitten with our baby…”

“Isn’t he smitten with you?” “Well… That would still be better than…” “That’s ridiculous.” As Sano heard one story after another about Takeda from Toshiko, he began to feel a kind of interest that bordered on unease.

All sorts of things happened.

The baby felt different depending on the day. There were times when it resembled an apple, times when it resembled a honey peach, and times when it resembled a cherry.

――The baby has oddly thick thighs with slender feet, thin arms with plump hands. ――The baby’s eyes are clear but lack true beauty. The lips are ugly. The most beautiful part is the nails on its hands and feet. ――The baby’s senseless vocalizations can be intensely expressive or utterly expressionless depending on the moment. The more expressive the vocalizations, the more vigorous the mental activity.

――The baby truly had a fruit-like scent. The stronger its scent, the better nourished it was.

――It was strange how the baby’s vocal expressions and body scent were usually inversely proportional. The better nourished it was, the more vigorous its mental activity ought to be—but perhaps when well-nourished, its mental desires ceased altogether.

――The baby’s skin was covered only in downy hair, with neither birthmarks nor freckles.

Sano had many birthmarks. Toshiko had faint freckles. “Ha ha ha, so he’s comparing the baby to us now.” “But Mr. Takeda has quite a few freckles too, you know.” “It’s just that his skin is dark, so they don’t stand out….” “But what’s the point of observing the baby in such detail?” “So he’s smitten with the baby.” “Don’t be ridiculous.”

It actually wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t quite that all their family secrets were being exposed… but Sano felt as though even their daily lives were being laid bare in broad daylight. He felt uncomfortable. Even when Sano was at home, Takeda wouldn’t go to the study but instead would head straight into where the child was. Toshiko amiably welcomed this.

An eight-tatami room. Near the north window, where sunlight barely reached, the dome-shaped mosquito net was spread out. The baby was sleeping soundly. Beside it, Toshiko was doing needlework. Her hair was tied back in a tight Western-style chignon. It suited her well, making her look younger than her age. Because her face was oval with a broad forehead, a tightly pulled-back Western-style chignon made her look more youthful than a larger one would. A single tortoiseshell comb provided just the right accent. A short distance away from the mother and child, Takeda lay sprawled on the engawa. He had spread out newspapers and magazines to stave off boredom, but he didn’t seem to be reading them. He alternated between drifting into idle daydreams and staring fixedly at the baby. His long hair was disheveled. Even when neatly combed back, it would quickly become disheveled—fine, supple hair. In stark contrast to that hair, his gaunt, sunken face stood out sharply angular. It was cold and hard to the touch, with a dull, lifeless complexion. His eyes alone reacted with acute sensitivity, darkening and flashing intermittently. His gaze as he looked toward the baby occasionally grew obsessive. Each time this happened, Toshiko would exhibit an oddly protective air toward the baby—while simultaneously appearing triumphant. She even seemed triumphantly proud. For someone as carefree as her—untouched by worldly suffering—such behavior was exceedingly rare. Yet it appeared almost instinctive and natural.

There was not the slightest pretense in her demeanor. With that triumphant pride, she seemed to be protecting the baby. Takeda appeared slightly irritated. But in an instant, his expression turned terribly lonely. A faint shadow of a smile drifted across Toshiko’s cheek. Before long, everything vanished, and a quiet time continued. A lull…. From the depths of the lull, the baby began to squirm. Toshiko and Takeda both turned their gaze in that direction. The baby made a strange noise. It was neither crying nor shouting. “Oh, you’re awake.” Toshiko approached. The baby let out a loud cry. The mosquito net was removed, and from within the all-white expanse—the white quilt, the thin white blanket, the white kimono—a red face and reddish hair squirmed restlessly. “Oh poor thing, it must be time for your milk.” The wobbly neck, the tightly clenched perfectly round hands, the long kimono hem entangled with legs—this oddly precarious whole was cradled in Toshiko’s lap. “Excuse me.” She turned around while opening her collar and let the baby suckle at her breast. A faint sweetish scent of milk.

Takeda let out a deep breath and looked toward the garden. The glorious sun shone on each and every leaf of the trees. A quiet afternoon… “There we go, Uncle… peek-a-boo…” The baby tilted its unsteady head quizzically, smiled brightly, babbled excitedly, and occasionally—as if remembering something—kicked up its legs like a mechanical doll. Takeda’s eyes widened in a manner that seemed to say “ho.” Only his eyes were round, causing wrinkles to gather on his forehead and giving him a comical, old-man-like expression. Toshiko smiled cheerfully at the baby, her white teeth gleaming. Takeda didn’t ask to hold the baby. Toshiko didn’t offer to let him hold the baby either. There was a strange barrier there. Within that barrier, the baby bounced up and down. The maid arrived. The baby passed back and forth from Toshiko’s hands to the maid’s. Takeda was entranced by the baby’s movements. “My, what has you so fascinated?” “Well, actually…” Whether to call it amusing or splendid, Takeda couldn’t decide—he showed this with an awkward expression. Toshiko and the maid laughed. “When I think that I too was once a baby, it feels rather strange.”

“Why…?” “Why…? Well, suppose there were someone who had never seen a baby. That person would surely never even dream that they themselves were once a baby.” “They might at least see it in a dream.” “Well… “I’ve never once dreamed about a baby.” “Really?” “Yes.” Toshiko made a disbelieving face. Takeda smiled forlornly. Then, he suddenly became like a melancholic mask. The baby was cheerfully bouncing around. It was quiet…

Sano felt as though he alone had been cast outside that circle.

――This feels a bit off.

He stared fixedly into Toshiko’s eyes.

Toshiko did not flinch even slightly. She had gained composure compared to before, acquired a certain weight, grown somewhat more beautiful than she once was, her flesh fuller and her complexion healthier.

“You’ve become oddly frivolous lately, haven’t you?” “What’s gotten into you?” “You’re a full-fledged, proper father now, aren’t you?”

“Hmm, right, right.” “That’s why I’ve been thinking about it too.” “About what…?” “About straightening myself out.” “That’s just how it is—it’ll pass soon enough.” “You never make it clear whether you’re joking or being serious.”

“…………”

He suddenly lifted Toshiko up. She was light. With a muddle of satisfaction and dissatisfaction—an incomprehensible feeling—he wandered unsteadily outside.

Sano returned home by taxi late at night. He got off at the corner of the train avenue and walked about three blocks.

The dimly lit alley lay hushed in slumber. The cold night air brushed against his cheek.

As was usual in such situations, the woman he’d been with at midnight had already begun to fade from his mind. And he was far calmer and more serious in mood than usual—a state of mind where he contemplated life deeply.

What on earth am I living for? He passed by a dog sniffing around the area with a sense of familiarity, then suddenly felt intensely lonely. He felt a chill, as though standing stark naked and utterly alone.

He entered the gate, closed it, and was about to enter the house when he was startled. The front door—always drawn shut late at night—had been left wide open with one panel gaping. To his greater surprise still, light seeped through a black cloth draped over the sitting room lamp, revealing Toshiko sitting rigid in the hazy glow while the child slept with a flushed red face. "What's wrong?" Though she should have come to greet him at the entrance, Toshiko remained seated and met him with a cold glance. With that same gaze still fixed, she pointed toward the baby.

“Huh? The baby’s sick?” The head on the water pillow burned with a viscous heat that seemed rooted deep within. In eerie discord with this, the breathing remained peaceful and quiet. The child lay in profound slumber. Its small-wrinkled lips had dried. Until evening, it had been well, but around eight o’clock, it suddenly developed a blazing fever and grew listless. The temperature was 39.3 degrees. The doctor came. “This might be a neurogenic paroxysmal fever,” he said while handing over transparent liquid medicine, “but we’ll need more time to be certain.” They were instructed to withhold all milk and administer only this medicine when thirsty.—Toshiko relayed this in a low voice, her words clipped like broken twigs.

“Where have you been? Even Mr. Takeda has been kindly waiting here worried about you…” “Huh? Takeda…?”

Sano did not answer where he had been. He stood up to change his kimono.

In the tea room, Takeda was vacantly smoking.

“Even you had to worry about me….” “Oh, it’s nothing….”

The conversation had no continuation. “Is it serious?”

Takeda said something similar to Toshiko. He looked terribly displeased.

Sano once again approached the child.

“Today…” “I ended up mentioning a friend’s name at random—‘…I met him and got so caught up in talking…’.” “Shouldn’t you have realized?” “That’s… How could I possibly know?”

“Mr. Takeda said he came because he had a strange feeling too, you know.”

"A strange feeling..." "There's such a thing as premonitions... you know." "It's not like that." "Since I'm his father and no bug warned me... there's nothing wrong."

The baby’s forehead was still hot. It was a deep sleep from which one could not tell when it would awaken.

“If we cool it with ice…” “The doctor said we mustn’t cool it too much.” Toshiko’s demeanor was so resolute it verged on cruelty. She kept unwavering watch over the child. Sano felt there was no space for him to even lift a finger. The same interminable time stretched on endlessly. The lingering intoxication from chilled sake clung stubbornly to the recesses of his mind. Sano approached Takeda once more.

Takeda’s face had become a mask of melancholy. He remained completely still.

“There’s no use staying awake.” “Why don’t you sleep?” “You could stay over.” “Hmm… But there’s no use sleeping.” “It’s nearly two o’clock.”

“…” It was a hushed night, the dew seeming on the verge of turning to frost.

“Where have you been?” Suddenly, Takeda’s face, lit by the electric light, took on a dimly keen cast. “Where?…” “You’re being inconsiderate, at a time like this….”

“But… I didn’t know…” “Even if you didn’t know, that’s no excuse.”

“Hmm… I wonder.” Sano wore an unconvinced expression. If I were to say it was wrong… well, perhaps it was wrong, but in truth, not a shred of that wrongness took root in my heart.

“The baby’s fine.” “Even when ill，they don’t suffer at all.” “But if they were truly suffering like that—you wouldn’t be able to bear it.” “It doesn’t look that bad.”

“Whether it looks fine or looks bad—isn’t it all the same? An illness is an illness. After my wife died, I kept agonizing over why I hadn’t nursed her better. Whether I ever truly loved her—even that’s become unclear… It all belongs to the realm of the living.”

Sano flinched. “Huh? Did the doctor say something?”

“The doctor…” “Something about danger… or…” “I haven’t heard anything.” “That’s right. It can’t be that serious.” “Anyone would think that. I used to think that too.” “Just before she finally passed, my wife perked up a bit.” “Just when you start thinking things are fine, they suddenly take a turn for the worse.” “You could see it happening—how she kept sinking deeper and deeper, relentlessly—and there was nothing anyone could do.” “…”

Sano stared at Takeda’s face. “That must be an unbearable feeling.” “...”

At that moment, something strange happened to Sano. From a certain powerful, indescribably ironic satisfaction, he found himself smiling vaguely. And then he found himself at a loss. He stood up. “It’s fine. Come here.”

He walked toward the sickroom. Takeda followed.

When he removed the lampshade, the room suddenly brightened. “Oh my—what do you think you’re doing?” “Nah, it’s fine.” Its face was bright red. Its forehead glistened with sweat and felt hot. Its breathing stayed quiet. Around its slightly sunken eyes, it unconsciously furrowed.

“Alright, I’ll stay with it.” “It’s nothing.” Sano sat down by the bedside. “You mustn’t. You’ll make too much noise—” “You’ll make too much noise….”

Toshiko stood up and put back the lampshade. “Really, it’s all right now. Please go to sleep.” “Yeah.”

Takeda was half-crouched, staring blankly.

“Everyone, go to sleep.” “I’ll stay with it.” Sano crossed his arms and settled into position. Steam rose from the hibachi. Light filtered through black crepe cast a soft halo throughout the room. The baby’s breathing remained quiet.

Sano gradually grew disenchanted. He felt it was all absurd.

He spread out a futon in the corner of the room and lay down. And he fell asleep. He didn't remember a thing...

The next morning, he was awakened by Toshiko. The baby was sleeping properly covered with a blanket. The room’s door had been left open, and the bright morning sun was streaming in.

The baby was looking around at the ceiling with a curious expression in its large, vacant eyes. The fever had dropped to around thirty-seven degrees. “Last night, the only ones who slept were you and the maid.” “Wise ones sleep well.”

He got down on his stomach and poked the baby’s soft cheek. The skin, covered in fine downy hair that appeared golden and translucent, twitched unconsciously.

Toshiko’s pallid face, with its freckles seeming to float to the surface, struck him as unusual. But even more than that, Takeda’s figure—crouched on the veranda, on the verge of tears—looked comical. He hunched his shoulders, looking as though he were crying.

Not long after that, Takeda got engaged. “I’ll make a good baby for you.”

With a gloomy face that was not at all fitting, Takeda said. “Ha ha ha, try competing with me.”

Sano grew cheerful. And he told that story to Toshiko. Toshiko did not laugh. “I wonder if he did care for me a little after all.” “Don’t be silly. Quit flattering yourself.” Sano began to develop something like confidence in his daily life. He laughed cheerfully.