Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Toyoshima Yoshio

Sano Yōkichi experienced what he called "cheerful fits" once or twice a month.

At first came a hazy, smoke-like mood tinged with turbidity... This gradually condensed into a thick murkiness that stagnated within him, producing two distinct effects. One was his mind growing severely dulled. A poisonous miasma seemed to fill his skull - complex thoughts became impossible, subtle sensations unreachable, all nuance and shading vanished until existence turned unnervingly stark. It resembled overcast daylight. The second effect saw his body abruptly vitalized. His blood volume swelled beyond measure, creating such spleen-tormenting excess that he craved violent physical exertion. These separate phenomena would eventually snap into perfect alignment. Then he would leak an eerie snickering smile... This condition he personally termed humanity's beast-like transformation.

The beast-like transformation of humanity was not necessarily dishonorable or unpleasant. No, rather, for Sano Yōkichi, it was a pleasantly vivid period. It was a step beyond concerns like social propriety, personal reserve, or self-respect. And he conjured up the alluring postures and scents of women who fawned over him, making various choices in his imagination.

――I should go out today. With a springy, leaping mood, he went over to Toshiko. By her side lay their baby - now about 150 days old - sleeping peacefully within the hooded mosquito net. He crawled on his stomach into the netting, thrusting only his head inside to lightly poke the infant's soft cheek with his fingertip. "Oh don't! He just fell asleep!" "Hahaha - fast asleep."

Still startled by his booming laughter, her brows slightly furrowed as she peered at the child, he gazed at Toshiko’s face while springing upright. Toshiko’s furrowed brows gradually relaxed, and an artless smile rose to her cheeks like a reflection of the child’s sleeping face. Along with her, he also beamed a gentle smile. “The child’s sleeping face is such a wonderful thing,” he blurted out thoughtlessly, “It’s just like the sea.”

“Huh... The sea...?” “I suddenly want to see the sea.” “Why don’t you go see it then?”

“Yeah, maybe I should go now. But…”

“Oh, it’s nothing…” “It’s still hot out, and…” “That’s precisely why the sea would be pleasantly cool, don’t you think?” “Is that so… Why don’t we go together?” “Me?” Her eyes glared with a petulant edge. “You know perfectly well I can’t…”

“Why’s that?” “What about the baby?” “Ah, the child.” “You’re so mean, playing dumb like that… Go ahead then.” “Hmm… But looking at the baby’s face is nice too…” “Oh…” He was someone who claimed not to particularly like the baby and rarely held it. He immediately seized upon the flicker of her usual dissatisfaction that had briefly flashed in Toshiko’s eyes.

“No—I... I *do* like the baby’s sleeping face.” “It’s just that… well, it feels so pure and innocent, almost otherworldly, you know?” “Babies are really good when they’re always sleeping, but…” “Then wouldn’t dolls be the same?” “Right, a living doll… It’d be wonderful if such a thing could exist.”

“Again… That’s why you’re hopeless.” “Huh… Am I really that hopeless?” “What are you marveling about? …Just go already. You keep spouting nonsense and you’ll wake the baby again.” “Is there no place for me in the three realms? …Maybe I’ll go… Where would be the closest spot with the best view of the sea….”

"Shinagawa... Ōmori... Haneda..." Muttering these names to himself, he settled in and slowly began shaving his beard.

I don't care about the sea at all. I... No—it's you being like that that's cute. It's precisely because you're cute... There was no logic to it, but regardless, he found Toshiko endearing in those moments—the more endearing she became, the more cheerfully his mood lifted, until the notion of bustling off toward the vibrant streets settled perfectly in his heart. "Dinner... Well, I'll just grab something somewhere. ...Might be back a bit late."

“Isn’t lateness your usual habit?” To Toshiko’s unsuspectingly smiling eyes, he responded with a smile. “Ah, absolutely.” “Walking back late at night through streets where the trains have stopped running, strolling aimlessly—it’s such a wonderful feeling.” “I wonder if you’d ever understand…” “……”

Her face—caught between understanding and not understanding, restless and unsettled—and her entire figure made him want to pull her into an embrace and shake her. Resisting the impulse while taking her hand, he lifted his heel and managed a smooth tiptoed mimicry of dance steps.

“Stop that—what are you doing?” “Hahaha, just… you know…” “How unlike you.” She wore an expression as if declaring it absurd, yet still looked happy. “You’re right—a walk suits me best. …Well then, I’ll be off.”

And he rushed out of the house.

Domestic harmony achieved. I love my wife. Nicely handled. Those two vague thoughts rendered his anticipation of that day’s dissipation all the more pleasant.

Dusk-lit streets—trains stream past，cars speed along，bicycles race by. Pedestrians walk briskly…. Everything hurries toward its destination.

Amidst all this, Sano Yōkichi walked alone, sauntering leisurely.

It’s still a bit too early.

But in such circumstances, being too early didn't trouble him in the slightest. Anticipating dissipation was also one of the items in the program. Lights were lit all along the streets and shopfronts. Amidst the bustle, the city began leisurely putting on its night makeup. As for me—time to fuel up. Something as simple as possible yet nourishing... The high white ceiling, neatly arranged pure white tables, water-sprinkled potted trees—amidst these, he took his seat. Avoiding the set meal, he ordered four or five dishes he liked, along with beer...

Coarse patrons… waiters… all strangers, their heads like rows of pumpkins. Yet amidst them, from a table in the far corner, a single downcast profile gradually emerged with vivid clarity... Takeda Keiji... He recognized him at once. Before the beer glass, he sat motionless as stone. I wonder if he hasn’t noticed. Sano stood up and went over. “Hey,” he said with a tone meant to clap Takeda’s shoulder, “What do you want to do?”

Toward his friend’s welcoming smile, Takeda raised a face as though waking from a dream. “Oh, hey there.” “It’s been a while.”

“Hmm.” “How’ve you been since then….” “Well, why don’t you come over to that table?” “Yeah.” Despite Takeda’s apparent lack of interest, Sano called over the waiter regardless. And when they faced each other across the table, somehow things didn’t quite settle. Around the same time that a baby was born in Sano’s household, Takeda lost his partner—though they hadn’t formally married, a woman he’d been cohabiting with for over two years. Amidst the commotion of both events, though they had once interacted closely, they had gradually grown distant.

Takeda's face was conspicuously sallow, the flesh of his cheeks hollowed out. "Eaten yet?" "Already did."

“You’ve already…” “If you like, since I’ve only just started, why don’t we do this together?” “No, really—I’ve already eaten.” But it didn’t sit right with Sano. Though there was no particular reason for it, he kept insisting on this persistent feeling that Takeda must not have eaten yet. “You sure about that?” “Ah, really.” Takeda stubbornly maintained a cold expression.

Sano continued his meal, and Takeda drank beer. "I kept meaning to go see you, but somehow never got around to it…" “No—the feeling’s mutual. …Is everyone at your place well?”

“Ah, they’re fine.” “You both…” “Both of them—well, keeping them well.” Toshiko’s face flashed briefly through Sano’s mind. At the same time, he was overcome by a strange, ticklish feeling.

“You too… Have you settled down now?” “If you say I’ve settled down—I’ve settled too much, if anything…” “That’s good.” And Sano gazed fixedly at Takeda’s face. “When my wife died—I figured you couldn’t really understand unless you’d experienced it yourself—so I ended up not coming by afterward…” “No—I was grateful for that. Rather than being comforted with awkward platitudes, I can’t tell you how much better it was to be left gently alone.”

“Hmm… Maybe that’s how it goes.” “Why…” “There’s no particular reason why… But what on earth were you feeling? You must have been quite troubled.” “At the time, I was completely at a loss. But…since there were no children, it was somewhat manageable…but once everything was over and settled down, that’s when it really became unbearable.” “The thing is…” “Something remains, you see.”

“Of course something remains.” “That’s the thing—it’s strange. If it were just my wife’s belongings lying around or my daily care getting neglected—those things would be expected, but….” “Is there still something else?” “There is… But let’s stop this talk now.” “If it’s something you don’t want to discuss, I suppose there’s no helping it… Ah well—everything will sort itself out in time. Actually, being bereaved is a wretched thing. I too remember when my mother died. But before you know it, it all becomes part of the distant past.”

“……”

Takeda blinked his darkened eyes and made a gloomy expression. His sallow, gaunt face, bathed in the stark white light of the electric lamp, looked like a mask. “Everything is a matter of time. You shouldn’t dwell on it too much.” “…It shouldn’t exist.” “If you think about it normally, it’s strange.” The mask-like face abruptly became real. “However, you must have had this kind of experience too. Suppose you move furnishings from one room to another… say, a chest or cupboard—things that have long stayed in the same place—and suddenly clear them away.” “Then, when you casually enter that room, you’re startled.” “The place where the chest of drawers used to be has become completely empty.” “The void cannot be filled by anything else.” “Unless you bring back the chest of drawers that was here before, it can never be filled. …You understand, don’t you?”

“Hmm….” “It’s exactly the same thing. Since my wife died, I’ve grown indifferent to things like daily inconveniences or keepsakes lying around. But something that’s purely my wife’s form… physical, three-dimensional… something precisely resembling her body has become emptiness around me. We speak of ‘emptiness’ casually, yet even emptiness can assume a shape. An emptiness shaped exactly like my wife wanders throughout the house. No object can fill it… Nothing short of her own flesh—only her identical body could seal this void. Such emptiness floats weightlessly through the rooms, drifting everywhere.”

“……” Sano was at a loss for an answer.

“I believe what we call ghosts from antiquity ultimately signify that variety of Emptiness.” “It’s mistaken to think ghosts possess any physical substance.” “They’re simply Emptiness endowed with fixed form—don’t you agree?” “An Emptiness that can only be filled by the actual flesh of the very person themselves when alive.” “Though invisible and merely perceptible… But should Emptiness itself become visible….” “That… would prove troublesome…”

“It’s not a matter of being troubled or not.” “It’s something utterly unimaginable.” “Anyone would feel that way…” “But come to think of it, that too might be because of affection.” “Affection… That’s something entirely separate from such feelings.” “I’m even feeling some sort of eerie terror, you see.” As he listened, Sano found himself beginning to feel a strange sensation. He wanted to dismiss it as mere imagination, but faced with Takeda’s tone and expression, there was something he couldn’t entirely refute.

After remaining silent for a while, Takeda’s face once again took on the appearance of a melancholic mask.

“Shall we take a short walk outside?” “Yeah.”

Though the streetlights were far dimmer, to Sano it felt as if he had emerged into a much brighter place. A light wind swept over the heads of many pedestrians. High in the sky shone two or three stars. From radio speakers here and there spilled indifferent noise. Takeda walked straight ahead in silence as if angered by something. Clad in an unlined kimono with a heko obi and leaning on a thick Chinese bamboo cane...

Emptiness given a fixed form… Emptiness that roams about… Sano repeated such thoughts in his head. If Takeda himself—who had suddenly appeared in the restaurant after some time away, rambled on about strange things, worn that mask-like melancholic expression, and now walked along in silence—were emptiness with form… If he were to strike with a fist to rebuke him, and that fist smoothly pierced through... Sano couldn't help but find himself absurd. Suddenly, impulsively, he tapped Takeda’s shoulder. He felt a bony, thin hardness.

“Huh?”

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

“But… isn’t this strange?”

What exactly he meant by that… he simply tried saying it that way.

“What’s this, so suddenly…?” The sharp, curious gaze rendered Takeda’s presence piercingly vivid. “What… just a moment….”

As he thought this through, Sano began to calm down.

Young women with cheerful expressions passed by in numbers, men too…

“There’s this thing that happens.” “When you’ve been married two or three years, you enter what you might call a period of ennui… Anyway, you lose interest in married life, and a time of faint disillusionment sets in.” “Everyone apparently goes through that.” “And they come to envy free singles.” “Married life starts feeling like nothing but some strange constraint, and you even begin imagining scenarios like your wife dying.” “Of course, I don’t want her to die, but if she were to quietly disappear… well, that’s about where it stands, I suppose.” “Even that—if it’s something common to all men—you can’t really despise it so much.”

“Well, that’s something only men with wives ever think about.” “That may be so… But it’s all a matter of perspective.” “Married life? Maybe two or three years are plenty enough.” “So you’re 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 it—there are times I want to break free from the cage.”

“To break free from the cage…” “Well—forgetting everything and flying about freely… I suppose you could put it that way.” “But aren’t you always free to roam about as you please?” “Well… not quite.”

Sano smiled uneasily. Things from earlier in the day—various things—drifted through his head. “How about it?” “Ah, never mind… Instead of that, how about we go out for drinks again tonight? A little diversion now and then does you good.” “It’s fine to drink, but…” Takeda stopped walking and stared intently into Sano’s face. “You’ve started indulging lately, haven’t you.” “No—not quite to that extent.” “Just… very occasionally…”

“Are you paying for women?” “…………” Sano, who had been smiling cheerfully, collided with something unforeseen. In the past, he had occasionally—though never quite venturing to teahouses—summoned geishas and reveled with Takeda. That same Takeda... “And my wife…”

Switching from mild surprise，Sano adopted a cheerful，clownish tone. “It’s fine.” “She doesn’t know anything.” “And even if she did find out，it’s not something worth getting jealous over.” “I’d forget the woman’s face and name right away.” “Well，it’s just occasionally eating meals outside the home—that’s all it amounts to.” “And if I get my energy back，isn’t that good enough?”

“Such a foolish thing…” “That’s just how it is, so there’s no helping it.” “It’s nothing—just some stimulating fragrance, that’s all.” “...Speaking of fragrances, there’s an interesting story.” “I have a friend who’s a medical graduate—he once had this idea to try using women’s hair oil in the hospital lab.” “Apparently, it’s an experiment where you tightly press glass against glass to prevent air flow, then examine the oxygen levels in blood within that glass apparatus.” “To adhere the glass together, they normally use Vaseline, but the adhesive strength is relatively weak.” “So they thought of using hair oil, and when they tried it, the results were quite good... However, when working with the hair oil, its smell would come wafting up to their noses...” “It was a solemn laboratory filled with the smell of chemicals.” “Amidst that solemnity, the scent of hair oil... and thoughts of the pleasure quarters suddenly come to mind...” “When that happens, that day’s a wash—but after one night’s indulgence, from the next day onward he throws himself into the experiments twice as hard as usual… or so he claims.” “For the average man, these indulgences are everything—and nothing more.”

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

“Well then, I’ll be off here.”

Takeda suddenly said that. He had become a mask of melancholy. “Huh… Aren’t we going to have a drink together?”

“No—let’s do it next time instead. I’ve got a bit of business today….” “But…”

“I’ll go eventually… Yes, let’s go see the baby.” “…………” Sano stood dumbstruck. Even after being left alone, he lingered vacantly at the spot. Then came an abrupt swell of peculiar emotion.

Well now, what should I do? Should I just take off? Street lamps and bright shops and unfamiliar passersby… Amidst them all, he stood chillingly solitary.

Four or five days later, it was afternoon.

“Mr.Takeda was here today.”

When Sano returned from outside, Toshiko reported to him as if it were a major incident.

“Well, Mr. Takeda.”

“Yes. He waited quite a long time—about two hours—but since you didn’t return…” “I wonder what he wanted.” “I asked him, but he said there was no particular business… He mentioned that you met him the other day.” “Oh, right—I forgot to mention…” Sano flinched. Given the circumstances, he had intended to vaguely mention having met Takeda two or three days prior when a later opportunity arose, but it had remained unaddressed.

Toshiko had a slightly suspicious look in her eyes. “What did he talk about for two whole hours…?”

“It was nothing serious... He just sat there silently staring at the baby as if speaking was too much trouble.” “Since his wife passed away, he must be lonely after all.” “Well, that’s…” “Oh yes, he said something quite similar to what you did.” “He said the baby’s scent somewhat resembled fruit….” “There, you see?” “But when I mentioned that you said looking at the baby’s sleeping face made you think of the sea, he suddenly burst out laughing.” “I was so surprised.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” “But what was so funny about it?” “He must’ve remembered something odd. …Speaking of which, maybe I should go see him.” “He said he’d come again tonight or tomorrow.” “Tonight or tomorrow… I wonder if he’s got some business after all.”

Sano was slightly concerned.

The other day... he had met him at an unseemly hour and prattled on about unseemly matters—or rather, the entire encounter now struck him as fraught with unease. Toshiko also seemed somehow concerned. “Well, it might be nothing.” “But it was strange—the way he would sometimes stare so intently at the baby… I almost felt frightened.”

“Hahaha, nonsense.” So that’s all it was.

Sano laughed and dropped the matter.

But when Takeda came to visit the following evening, for some reason, both of them went out to the entrance.

“Oh—I’ve come again.” Not only his tone but his entire demeanor left Sano slightly flustered. The gloomy shadow from days before had lifted, revealing Takeda’s usual self—somehow both guileless and persistent. “I’d actually been meaning to come over myself.” “No particular reason really…” “Just wanted to see the baby’s face…” “…………” Sano responded with a strained smile. “How delightful.” “Oh? Taken such a shine to him?”

“Ah, I’ve completely taken a shine to him.” “My goodness—what on earth are you saying?”

“No—it’s true.” “Mr. Sano—since you have a child at home—you’d do better gazing at their sleeping face than wandering about aimlessly.” “In that case, I agree too.” “And you…?” “Such trivial things…” “Whether I like it or not, I have to look at them every day.” “So… if it becomes an obligation… is that no good?” “Oh, it’s not an obligation.” “It’s natural affection.”

“Exactly.” “The obligation was misguided.” “What does any of that matter?” “How tedious…”

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter.”

An elusive quality that was half-joking and half-serious emerged in Takeda’s demeanor. Sano and Toshiko found themselves involuntarily watching his face. When Toshiko left her seat, Sano directed his gaze intently toward Takeda. “Since then… if you stop coming around, it seems your feelings have changed.”

“I… haven’t changed.” Takeda pursed his lips and looked back. “However, you were awfully gloomy back then…” “Ah, well—even I myself sometimes get a chill.”

“A chill.”

“Sometimes things… the surrounding world… take on a mysteriously symbolic quality.” “At such times, my dead wife’s form… a kind of image… that part becomes a gaping void—almost like a vacuum—and emerges vividly….” “That… shaped void of yours?” “So I rush outside with this strangely unbearable feeling.” “And then I… wander aimlessly.” “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.” “Even I myself do it unknowingly.” “When I come to my senses…”

Takeda carved deep wrinkles between his brows and had a forehead like an old man’s.

“Well then, you should try having some fun for a change.” “Don’t be absurd. How could I possibly manage such serious dissipation? I do drink quite a lot, but blatant physicality is unbearable.” “Blatant physicality….” “Or is that not how it is for you….”

“My…” “That’s not it.” “Just…”

Sano was at a loss for words. He couldn’t say whether it was so or not. “What about the scent of pomade—isn’t that how it is?” “It’s just a smell. Besides, I don’t play around like that.” “That may be the case…” “No, really—it’s true. I can’t have you misunderstanding. That night—the conversation took such an odd turn, you see…” “Well… I’m glad I met you. I keep coming here so often—am I not a nuisance?”

“Often? It’s only been… twice….”

“Yeah, it’s about what’s to come.” “Not at all… If you feel like it, come every day.” “I won’t come every day, though… Actually, your baby is quite something. Since then, I’ve felt like getting a proper look at what sort of baby yours is…” “So it’s unexpectedly good quality after all?” Sano hunched his shoulders with a wry smile, but Takeda remained composed. “Whether it’s good quality or not, I can’t say… but babies as a whole are such wonderful things.”

“Why….”

“Utterly natural and raw.” “Shouldn’t that be obvious?” “Yet there exist babies quite withered away.”

“That’s because they’re sick.” “Whether it’s malnutrition or some illness—they’re fundamentally unhealthy.” “Any healthy baby should be naturally vibrant.” “This is when they’re straining upward to grow at their fastest rate…” “No—I’m speaking spiritually.” “Spiritual or physical makes no difference to a baby.” “Your nonsensical interpretations twist it into something bizarre.”

As he spoke, Sano suddenly became angry. Something indefinable welled up from the depths of his chest. “It’s not like I’m adding any particular interpretation…” “It’s a completely incomprehensible world, I tell you.” “There’s no question of understanding or not—it’s simply the world as it is, I tell you.”

After remaining silent for a while, Sano called Toshiko.

“Huh? What is it….” “Bring the little one here.” “Oh my… Why….” “He’s sleeping right now, isn’t he?” “It’s really all right—you don’t have to do that….” “What on earth is going on?” “It’s nothing important.” Stared at by both Takeda and Toshiko, Sano was momentarily uncertain where to direct his thoughts. “Since you started spouting such nonsense, I thought I’d demonstrate it practically…”

“You’re the one who started spouting nonsense.” “It’s not strange. It’s exactly as it is.” “What on earth are you talking about…?”

Toshiko looked back and forth between the two men’s faces with a puzzled expression.

“The baby’s world… what was it again….”

Even Sano had somehow become unable to understand it. “Hahaha, I forgot.” He covered it up with laughter, but something still lingered deep in his heart. Takeda remained composed with an almost insensitive calmness. Or perhaps he felt nothing at all. He began talking with Toshiko about 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 while smoking cigarette after cigarette.

When Takeda eventually left, Sano suddenly became angry again. And strangely enough, even he couldn’t make sense of it. He paced around the house, face twisted in a scowl.

“What happened… What are you angry about?”

“I’m not angry about anything at all, I tell you.”

“But…”

“Since even I don’t understand it… I guess that means I’m not angry, does it?”

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

Takeda came often. During the day, there were many times when Sano was absent. And he would lie sprawled near the baby’s hooded mosquito net without particularly conversing with Toshiko, peering at the child or staring vacantly, then leave abruptly as if suddenly 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, frequently marveling to himself. “Mr. Takeda is so peculiar.” “He’s become completely infatuated with the little one….” “Hasn’t he fallen for you instead?” “If that were the case… it might still be all right….”

“Stupid.”

As he heard one Takeda story after another from Toshiko, Sano began to feel a kind of interest resembling concern.

So many things had occurred.

The baby gave off a different impression 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 had oddly thick thighs with slender feet, thin arms ending in plump hands. The baby’s eyes were clear but lacked true beauty. The lips were ugly. The most beautiful part was the nails on the hands and feet. The baby’s seemingly meaningless vocal sounds could be intensely expressive or utterly devoid of expression depending on the moment. The more expressive the vocal sounds, the more active the mental activity.

The baby had a completely fruit-like scent. The stronger the scent was, the better the nutrition. It was strange how the expressiveness of the baby’s vocal sounds and the body’s scent usually existed in inverse proportion. One would have expected better nutrition to correlate with more active mental functions, but perhaps good nutrition actually halted mental desires. The baby’s skin was covered in downy hair, with neither moles nor freckles to be found. Sano had many moles. Toshiko had faint freckles.

“Hahaha, he’s been comparing the little one to us, hasn’t he?”

“But Mr. Takeda has quite a lot of freckles too, doesn’t he? It’s just that his dark complexion makes them less noticeable…” “But what does he mean by observing the little one so closely?”

“That’s why he’s infatuated with the little one, I tell you.” “Don’t be ridiculous.” In reality, it was no joke. It wasn’t that all their household secrets were being exposed… but Sano felt as though even their daily lives had been strangely laid bare in broad daylight. The sensation was unpleasant.

Even when Sano was at home, Takeda would not go to the study but instead enter where the child was on his own accord. Toshiko warmly welcomed this.

An eight-tatami-mat room. Near the north window distant from sunlight, the hooded mosquito net was spread out. The baby was sleeping soundly. Beside it, Toshiko was doing needlework. Her hair was done up in a tightly pulled-back bun. That suited her well, making her look younger than her age. Because her face was long with a broad forehead, a tightly pulled-back bun made her look more youthful than a voluminous one would. A tortoiseshell comb provided modest ornamentation. A short distance from the mother and child, Takeda lay sprawled on the engawa. He had spread out newspapers and magazines to stave off boredom, but didn’t seem to be actually reading them. He would lose himself in idle daydreams or stare fixedly at the baby. His long hair was disheveled. Even when neatly combed back, it would immediately become disheveled—fine, supple strands. In strange contrast to that hair, his gaunt, sunken face stood out with sharp angularity. It was skin with a cold, hard texture—sallow and lackluster. His eyes alone reacted with acute sensitivity, darkening one moment and flashing the next. The gaze directed at the baby would occasionally grow insistent. Each time this happened, Toshiko showed an oddly protective air toward the baby. At the same time, she appeared triumphant. She even appeared proud in victory. For her carefree nature untouched by worldly suffering, such behavior was exceedingly rare. Yet it appeared almost instinctive and natural.

There was not the slightest attempt to conceal it. With that triumphant pride, she seemed to be protecting the baby. Takeda appeared slightly irritated. In an instant, his eyes took on an intensely lonely look. A faint shadow of a smile drifted across Toshiko’s cheek. Everything disappeared, and a quiet time continued. Calm... From the depths of the calm, the baby began to squirm restlessly. Toshiko and Takeda both fixed their eyes in that direction. The baby made a strange noise. It was neither crying nor screaming. “Oh, you’ve woken up.” Toshiko approached. The baby let out a loud cry. The mosquito net was removed, and from amidst all that pure whiteness—the white futon, white thin blanket, white kimono—a red face and reddish hair squirmed restlessly. “Oh, poor thing. It must be feeding time.” The unsteady neck, tightly clenched perfectly round hands, kimono hem entangled with legs—the strangely precarious whole was gathered into Toshiko’s lap. “If you’ll excuse me.” She turned her back and, while opening her collar, let the baby suckle at her breast. A faint sweet milky smell.

Takeda let out a deep breath and looked toward the garden. On each and every leaf of the trees, the brilliant sun shone. A quiet afternoon... “There we go, Uncle… peek-a-boo…!” The baby tilted its unsteady head quizzically, broke into beaming smiles, babbled in energetic bursts, and occasionally—as if suddenly remembering—jerked its legs up like an automaton, kicking them out in mechanical little hops. With a “Hoh” sound, Takeda widened his eyes. Only his eyes were round, causing wrinkles to gather on his forehead and giving him a comical, elderly-like expression. Toshiko smiled cheerfully with her white teeth at the baby. Takeda did not ask to hold the baby. Toshiko did not ask to hold the baby either. There existed a peculiar barrier there. Within that barrier, the baby hopped up and down. The housemaid came. From Toshiko’s hands to the housemaid’s, the baby went back and forth. Takeda was entranced by the baby’s movements. “My, what has you so fascinated?” “Well, actually…” Takeda showed with an awkward expression that he couldn’t tell whether to call it interesting or splendid. Toshiko and the housemaid laughed. “When I think that I too was once a baby, it feels rather strange.”

“Why would…” “Why you ask… Well, suppose there exists someone who has never seen a baby. That person would surely never even dream they themselves were once an infant.” “They might at least see it in a dream.” “Well… “I’ve never once dreamed of a baby, you know.” “Really?” “Yes.” Toshiko wore a look of disbelief. Takeda smiled a lonely smile. Then suddenly he became like a mask of melancholy. The baby was bouncing cheerfully. It was quiet…

Sano felt as though he alone had stepped outside the circle of that group.

This whole thing feels a bit off.

He stared intently into Toshiko’s eyes.

Toshiko did not flinch in the slightest. She had gained more composure than before—acquired a certain weight—grown somewhat more beautiful than she had been—her flesh fuller and her complexion healthier.

“You’ve become strangely flighty lately.” “What’s come over you?” “Aren’t you already a full-fledged proper father now?”

“Hmm, right, right.” “So I’ve been thinking about that too.” “What are you…” “Trying to shape up.”

“It’s that time again, you know. Soon.” “You can’t tell the difference between jokes and seriousness at all.” “……” He suddenly lifted Toshiko up. She was light. With a muddled feeling that was something like satisfaction yet also dissatisfaction, he wandered aimlessly outside.

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

The dim alley lay hushed in sleep. The night air brushed cold against his cheek. As usual on such occasions, he was already beginning to forget about the woman from those late hours. And he found himself calmer and more earnest than ever in his daily life. A state of mind where he contemplated existence with profound clarity.

What the hell am I even living for? He passed by a dog snuffling around the area with a sense of familiarity, then suddenly felt terribly lonely. It felt chilly, like standing completely naked and alone.

He entered through the gate, shut it behind him, and was about to step into the house when he froze in shock. The front door—always drawn closed during late returns—stood wide open. What startled him further was the parlor light left burning beneath a black cloth drape; in its muffled glow sat Toshiko with rigid composure, while the child slept crimson-faced. “What’s wrong?” Though protocol demanded she greet him at the entrance, Toshiko remained seated and acknowledged him only with an icy glance. Without shifting her gaze, she motioned toward the child.

“Huh? Is the baby sick?”

The head on the water pillow burned with an intense, deep-rooted heat that clung like resin. Strangely discordant with this—and all the more eerie for it—was the calm, quiet rhythm of breath. The child lay in profound slumber. Its finely wrinkled lips had dried out completely. Until evening it had been healthy, but around eight o'clock suddenly turned feverish as if aflame, collapsing into limp exhaustion. The temperature read 39.3 degrees Celsius. A doctor arrived. He suggested it might be a paroxysmal nervous fever requiring observation, then provided a vial of clear medicinal solution. No breastmilk was to be given—only this liquid when thirst struck. Toshiko relayed these instructions in a voice flat as planed wood.

“Where have you been? Even Mr. Takeda has gone to the trouble of waiting here worriedly…”

“Huh? Takeda…?”

Sano did not answer where he had been. He stood up to change his clothes. In the parlor, Takeda was smoking vacantly. “To think I made even you worry…” “Oh, it’s nothing—” The conversation found no continuation.

“Is it serious?” Takeda said something similar to what Toshiko had said. He looked thoroughly sullen. Sano went over to the baby again. “Today….” He randomly invoked a friend’s name and continued, “...got so caught up talking with [him] that...” “Shouldn’t you have realized?”

“As if… I could possibly know.” “Even Mr. Takeda said he came because he felt something strange.” “A strange feeling…” “There’s such a thing as a premonition, you know.” “That’s not it. Since the ‘bug’ didn’t inform me, the father, everything must be fine.”

The baby’s forehead was still hot. It was a deep sleep from which there was no telling when awakening might come. “If we cool it with ice….” “They said not to cool it too much.” Toshiko’s demeanor had gone beyond resolute to what could almost be called cruel. She kept single-minded watch over the child. Sano felt there was no room for him to even insert a finger. The same kind of time dragged on endlessly. The lingering effects of sobering alcohol clung strangely deep in his head. Sano went over to Takeda again.

Takeda’s face became a melancholic mask. He remained completely still.

“There’s no use staying awake. Why don’t you get some sleep? You can stay over if you want.” “Hmm. …But there’s no use sleeping either.” “It’s nearly two o’clock.” “…………” It was a hushed night, so still that the dew seemed on the verge of turning to frost. “Where have you been?” Suddenly, Takeda’s face, illuminated by the electric light, began to take on a dim clarity. “Where…?” “This is no time for such things…” “But… since I didn’t know…”

“Not knowing doesn’t make it right.” “Hmm, I wonder...” Sano wore an unconvinced expression. Bad… If I called it bad, then bad it might be—but that concrete sense of wrongdoing never truly took root in my chest. “The baby’s fine. Even when ill, it doesn’t suffer at all. If it were to suffer terribly like that, you would be unable to bear it.” “It doesn’t look that bad.” “Whether it looks fine or looks bad—doesn’t it amount to the same thing? An illness is an illness, you know.” After my wife died, I kept agonizing over why I hadn’t taken better care of her. Whether I truly loved my wife or not—even that had become unclear... “Everything belongs to the realm of the living.”

Sano jerked upright.

“Huh? Did the doctor say something?” “Doctor….”

“Dangerous or… something…” “I haven’t heard anything.” “That’s right. It can’t be that bad.” “Anyone would think that way. I used to think that way too. Just before she finally took a turn for the worse, my wife had perked up a bit. When I thought she’d be fine like this, she suddenly took a turn for the worse. She was visibly, steadily sinking into some deep place—I couldn’t do a thing about it.” “…………” Sano stared at Takeda’s face.

“That must be an unbearable feeling.” “…………”

At that moment, something strange happened to Sano. From a powerful, indescribably ironic sense of pleasure, he found himself smiling vaguely. Then he was at a loss.

He stood up. “It’s fine. Pray come and see.”

He walked toward the sickroom. Takeda followed.

When he removed the lampshade, the room suddenly brightened. “Oh my, what are you doing?” “Nothing’s wrong. It’s fine.” The face was bright red. The forehead was sweaty and hot. The breathing was quiet. The area around the slightly sunken eyes was unconsciously furrowed.

“Okay, I’ll stay with him.” “It’s really nothing.” Sano sat down at the bedside. “You mustn’t.” “You mustn’t raise your voice like that….” Toshiko stood up and put the lampshade back on. “Really, it’s quite all right now, so please go to sleep.” “Right.”

Takeda stood vacantly in a half-crouch.

“Everyone go on to bed. I’ll stay with him.” Sano crossed his arms and settled into a stance. Steam rose from the hibachi. The light filtered through black crepe cast a soft halo throughout the room. The baby’s breathing was quiet.

Sano’s mood gradually soured. Somehow everything became absurd. He spread out a futon in the corner of the room and lay down. Then he fell asleep. He remembered nothing… The next morning, Toshiko woke him. He found himself properly covered by a blanket. The room’s door stood wide open, bright morning sunlight streaming through. The baby gazed around at the ceiling with large bewildered eyes. The fever had dropped to nearly thirty-seven degrees.

“The only ones who slept last night were you and the housemaid.”

“The wise sleep well.”

He got down on his hands and knees and poked at the soft area around the baby’s cheek. The skin, covered in fine down that appeared translucent gold, quivered unconsciously with tiny movements. Toshiko’s pallid face, its freckles seeming to surface through the sallow complexion, struck him as unusual. But even more than that, the sight of Takeda crouching on the veranda, eyes brimming with unshed tears, struck him as absurdly comical. His shoulders were hunched forward in a posture that mimicked weeping.

Not long after that, Takeda got engaged.

“I’ll make a fine baby too.” With a gloomy face that didn’t suit his words in the slightest, Takeda said. “Ha ha ha, go ahead and try competing with me.” Sano felt cheerful. And he told Toshiko about that conversation. Toshiko did not laugh. “Perhaps he did care for me a little after all.” “Don’t be ridiculous. Quit flattering yourself.” Sano began to develop something resembling confidence in his life. He laughed cheerfully.