Pathway to Japanese Literature

A fourth-floor chamber in a certain concrete building.
There were no interior decorations, but only a large round lampshade hung from the ceiling, filling the entire chamber with light.
On one side there was a window; outside the window stretched a dark night.
The entire space had the feeling of being inside a box.
On one side of the chamber stood a massive round table, near its edge several men and women gathered.
Opposite them, on the other side of the chamber, there was a square small table where Masao sat.
Masao usually kept his face bowed over the table and rarely looked up.—This work is merely an allegory, not a play, so the characters' words and actions were often abrupt, creating an atmosphere akin to puppet theater.
Moreover, only the man sitting directly across from Masao at the large round table had the appearance of an ordinary human, while the men and women surrounding him seemed somehow deformed and grotesque.
What would become of things, I (the author) had no idea.
This was because I had merely been present in a corner of this box-like room. A long silence lingered.
Masao stood up, stretched, sat back down, and bowed his face over the table.
The man at the front of the round table, Ichi, called out.

“Masao-kun, you seem bored.”
“Boredom is life’s greatest evil.”
“You remember that saying, don’t you?”
“But let’s set that aside.”
“Since our last meeting, we haven’t met even once.”
“To say ‘we haven’t met once since our last meeting’ sounds peculiar, but that’s my genuine perception.”
“It’s been far too long.”
“No changes on your end, I trust?”
“I... no—let me say we.”
“Though I’m the sole cultural conference member present here, I speak for everyone.”
“Thus, we too remain unchanged.”
“However, should ‘unchanged’ imply stagnation, we must correct ourselves—we are not unchanged.”
“For with each assembly, we advance step by step.”

“By the way, something interesting happened at today’s meeting. As you know, our cultural conference’s main focus is examining the nature of culture, and we’ve agreed not to touch on political issues. However, the current political situation—whether we speak of its reactionary offensive or the direction of the Reverse Course—has reached a point where we can no longer remain silent. In other words, even if we on our part try to avoid touching on political issues, politics itself comes encroaching upon our immediate surroundings. Such discussions arose among everyone. So, the question became: what is the cause of this? To put it simply: pressure stemming from the perilous international situation, the distortion of state power under that pressure, the various oppressive legislations arising from that distortion... This is already full-fledged fascism. The conflict between left-wing and right-wing factions intensifies needlessly; fundamental human rights are violated; freedom and peace come under threat. Is it permissible to leave this unattended? Shouldn’t we submit some form of protest against this distorted state power? That was roughly the conclusion reached, but regarding immediate practical action, it was decided to discuss it at the next meeting.”

“If I’ve said this much, Masao-kun, something ought to stir within you.”
“It’s identical to the opinions you yourself used to put forward.”
“Yet after that—who knows why—you nearly stopped attending meetings altogether, and even when you did come occasionally, you barely spoke.”
“So if we happened to recall you during today’s gathering—during the informal chatter after proceedings—it shouldn’t surprise you.”
“Your name surfaced from nowhere in particular.”
“That pitiful weekly rag you run—*Dawn*—came up too.”
“It was supposed to be some cultural enlightenment pamphlet for a handful of readers, yet there’s talk it’s grown decidedly political lately.”
“Some say secret funds must be feeding it from somewhere.”
“The rumors weren’t exactly fragrant.”
“So Masao-kun—no, we—we want a clear answer.”
“Did you sell yourself for money?”
“Well, let’s not phrase it so harshly—but at minimum, it seems undeniable you’ve turned your back on the cultural conference.”
“Turning your back here means facing there.”
“A man can’t wear two faces looking opposite ways.”
“Where exactly is your face pointed?”

Masao suddenly raised his face.
He furrowed his brows, a faint wry smile playing on his lips.
His well-defined features imparted to that bitter smile an impression that could even be called defiant.
He merely glanced toward Ichi before lowering his face again, supporting his cheeks with both fists planted on the tabletop, keeping his eyes fixed on its surface as he spoke.

“My face faces downward,” said Masao.
“My eyes look at my feet.”
“I want to keep this up awhile longer.”

Ichi suddenly stood up, stared fixedly at Masao, then sat back down.

Ichi—That’s your current posture, I suppose.
“That’s not what we’re asking about.”
“What we’re asking about is the state of your mind—the disposition of your spirit.”

Masao—I do not consider physical posture and mental state to be separate things.
“For a while longer, just leave me like this.”

“Ichi—Very well. If you say so, I won’t interfere.”
“But…”

Silence.

“We may have gone a bit too far earlier,” said Ichi.
“We still consider you one of us.”
“We have no desire to succumb to that common vice—this bad habit of ours Japanese—where we rush to slap labels like ‘right-wing camp’ or ‘left-wing camp,’ ‘enemy’ or ‘ally,’ onto trivial matters from the very start.”
“But neither do we wish to be misled by cloying sentimentality or lingering attachments.”

“For instance, we could bring up the story of young girls watching a movie.”
“Suppose they’re fans of a star actor named N.”
“The girl sitting on the right said happily, ‘Whenever N turns this way, he always looks at me.’”
“The girl sitting on the left also said happily, ‘Whenever N turns this way, he always looks at me.’”
“The girl sitting in the center seat also says the same thing.”
“Whether in seats on the first floor or the second floor, it’s the same.”
“Movies are such things—because N’s eyes are looking at everyone, that means they end up looking at no one.”
“We hope you won’t become like that actor on the screen.”
“When I speak of eyes here, it’s a metaphor—what we’re really talking about is your face.”
“The problem is which way your face is turned.”

“Turning your face toward the ground and fixing your eyes on your feet—that’s your freedom, and we have no desire to criticize it. You claim that physical posture and mental state aren’t separate—very well, I’ll tentatively acknowledge that. However, if such physical posture and such a state of mind mean you’re still one of us after all, it actually worries me. That is to say, it’s a sign of illness or weakness. What on earth do you mean by wanting to stay like this a while longer? Are you simply waiting to destroy yourself?”

Ichi violently pounded the table.
Masao briefly raised his face but lowered it again and said quietly.

“I don’t intend to force myself to die,” Masao said, “and by the same measure, I don’t intend to force myself to live.”

“Nonsense!” Ichi retorted. “Are you saying you’ll practice total nonresistance? Let everything follow its natural course? Then where has your once-active ideology gone—your anti-violence stance, your opposition to authority? Whether it’s illness or weakness, there’s something disturbingly resigned about you now. Why have you become like this? What caused this change?”

He leaned forward, knuckles whitening on the table. “Resignation is worse than self-destruction. At least self-destruction contains some resistance—some fire. Resignation has nothing. Not even the vigor of true decadence.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “There’s something inside you now... like an abyss. A void.”

“So I’ve come to understand now. I’ve come to fully grasp both why you’ve nearly stopped attending the cultural conference and why you’ve almost ceased showing up to other gatherings as well. Not only have you practically stopped appearing anywhere, but even when you meet people, you just give them that creepy smirk and hardly engage in any proper conversation. Of course, you don’t have to speak when you don’t want to, but everyone’s saying your condition is somewhat abnormal. But let’s stop criticizing you any further. Very well then—keep your face turned to the ground and turn your back on us if you must. Keep your eyes fixed on your feet and don’t look up at the blue sky—that may as well be permitted too. And may you be utterly swallowed by that abyss within you—by that void—if you must.”

“Hey, Masao-kun—don’t just make us do all the talking. Why don’t you try saying something yourself?”
“Yet you’re the one who’s bored, aren’t you?”
“What on earth are you doing all day?”
“Are you just bored all the time?”
“How exactly are you killing your time?”
“Why don’t you try saying something?”

Ichi wildly pounded the table with his fist.
Masao remained motionless, propping his cheek on his hand.
Ichi continued to pound the table.

A pause.

A hand from the side restrained Ichi’s arm.
And the owner of the hand stood up straight.
A man with a short torso, long legs, and an extremely emaciated frame; because he wore clothes that fit his body tightly, he appeared as elongated as fire tongs.
He remained standing rigidly, surveying the room imperiously, fixed his eyes on Masao, extended his right hand, then thrust out a single index finger to point at him.

“Tokihiko—my name is Tokihiko, and I know this person well,” he said. “Stop making such a racket—it’s too noisy. This person is never bored at all. He’s never once been bored. He’s just despising me. In other words, he’s just ignoring me.”

“This person is an appallingly lazy individual. That’s all there is to it. So, as a lazy person’s habit dictates, you’re never bored. Even if there’s nothing to do, you don’t get bored; even if you’re doing nothing, you don’t get bored; no matter how busy you are, you don’t get bored. A fortunate disposition. Right? That’s how it is, isn’t it, Masao-kun?”

After calling out “Masao-kun,” Tokihiko lowered the right hand he had extended for the first time, placed the backs of both hands on his hips, and remained standing straight as he spoke.

“Tokihiko—There was something interesting that happened once.”
“You sprawled your hungover body in the sunlight and were looking at a picture book.”
“The open page showed that part where the rabbit takes a nap midway through the race with the turtle.”
“You kept staring at it endlessly—and what’s more, you seemed to be enjoying it so much that I grew curious and asked what you found so fascinating about it.”
“Then you answered that this rabbit’s nap was truly splendid.”
“You couldn’t possibly not know that old tale.”
“And there’s no way you don’t know the moral contained within it.”
“I pressed you on that point.”
“Yet you dismissed such morals from the very start, solely fixated on delighting in the carefree attitude of the rabbit napping mid-race and its innocent disregard for time.”
“When this led to a brief debate between us—when I told you ‘That’s all well and good for a rabbit, but life doesn’t work that way’—do you remember how you responded?”
“Whether it’s rabbits or life itself—it’s all the same. A confident person doesn’t fuss over anything—that’s how you answered.”
“If I were to say, that kind of confidence is nothing more than a lazy person’s confidence.”

“Truly, you are a lazy person and a self-assured individual. The two combine perfectly, causing you to disregard time. As a result, you never get bored under any circumstances. Do you understand now?”

Masao raised his face and gazed at Tokihiko with a look of bewilderment.
Then, once again, he propped his cheek on his hand resting on the table and lowered his face.

“Masao—who are you talking about?”

“Tokihiko—well, this is a surprise! I’m talking about you, aren’t I?”

Masao—Some parts might have seemed slightly accurate, but in truth, they were quite off the mark.

“Tokihiko—Are you planning to argue again? Then I’ll lay it out plainly. Your sloppy behavior all springs from ignoring time. Instead of feeling boredom, you can’t lift your face or eyes to walk straight ahead. You know this full well yet pretend not to understand. That’s what we name cowardice. There—another title for your collection: Coward.”

“But no matter how cowardly, self-assured, or lazy you become—no matter how hard you try ignoring me—it won’t work. You must follow my every step and time’s every second. Unbreakable iron chains bind you. Thrash and writhe all you like—it changes nothing!”

“So why don’t you just submit to me obediently? Don’t look away—keep your eyes fixed on me. I’ll be ever so kind to you. Then you’ll be able to walk with your head held high. In any situation, you’ll be able to speak freely. Well then—follow me obediently. Don’t look away—keep your eyes fixed solely on me.”

Tokihiko tapped rhythmically on the table as if trying to catch Masao’s attention.
But Masao kept his face down, hung his head even lower than before, and covered his forehead with both palms.
From beside Tokihiko, a woman stood up.
Red clothing.
Her body and limbs twisted unnaturally, as if clockwork springs had replaced her bones.

“Aiko—Aiko has her say too,” she declared. “You can’t keep Mr. Masao all to yourself just by trying to monopolize him.” Then softly cajoling: “Hey, Mr. Masao.”

Masao raised his face, gazed at Aiko with a look of bewilderment, and then immediately lowered it again.

Aiko extended one arm toward Masao, stuck out her index and middle fingers, and waved her hand unsteadily.

“Mr. Masao, Mr. Masao... look this way at Aiko.”
“You mustn’t look away!”

Aiko suddenly burst into laughter, withdrew her arm, planted both hands on her hips, and struck a pose mirroring Tokihiko’s.
Yet where Tokihiko stood rigid as an iron rod, Aiko never ceased wriggling her body like serpentine clockwork.

“Mr. Masao, don’t let yourself be fooled by someone like Tokihiko. You have such a tendency to be easily tricked by people, you know. If you must be deceived, then let yourself be deceived by me instead. Because you do like me, don’t you? You’re always clinging to me—‘Aiko, Aiko’—never leaving my side for a moment. When I go out and come home even slightly late, there you are sprawled on the floor, giving me the silent treatment like some sulking child when I call out to you. And yet your eyes are brimming with tears all the while. You were lonely without me there, weren’t you? When I see those tears, I truly feel wretched about it all. Even when I go out, I fret over how you’re faring and can’t properly attend to anything.”

“Even when we sleep at night, you always make me turn my face toward you.”
“When I turn away, you tickle my neck and make me face back.”
“And then you press your forehead against mine and rub your nose against my nose.”
“Like a little child, aren’t you?”
“Yet despite that, you’re so sharp-eyed.”
“When I make the slightest movement, you snap your eyes wide open and stare at my face.”
“I sometimes wonder—do you ever really sleep at all?”
“Maybe sleeping in the same futon is the problem.”

“And yet somehow I can’t settle into this calm. I know you truly love me.”
“I know that, but there’s still something else.”
“Something cold.”
“It’s inside you.”
“All those people coming and going for your ‘Dawn’—I couldn’t care less about them.”
“I won’t deny sometimes thinking you should quit that measly thrice-monthly newspaper, but since it’s men’s work, I don’t dwell on it.”
“Nor do I believe you’re making eyes at that female clerk.”
“And I don’t mind being poor.”
“Even if we had money, you’d just drink it all away anyway.”
“None of that matters to me—but there’s something cold inside you.”

“When I put on a smiling face, you get carried away and drink yourself drunk. When I put on a slightly sullen face... anyone can be in a bad mood sometimes... then you just get up and leave abruptly. So I told you so. If Aiko were to fall ill, what would you do? You’d surely abandon me and wouldn’t even care for me, would you? When I said that, you made a bitter face and fell silent. Staying silent is the same as saying yes. In other words, you have no human kindness. You have no human warmth.”

"This was another matter entirely—though trivial conversations about newspaper articles, movies, and rumors did occur from time to time. In such cases, you would analyze their feelings through psychological criticism, but never make moral judgments—whether someone was good, bad, or terrible. On top of that, you'd always say morals were trivial things like some catchphrase. But in truth, ordinary people's morals are rooted in human compassion. When I said that, you laughed like it was ridiculous."

“You’re truly a cold-hearted egoist.”
“Whenever I touch on that part of you, I grow cold all over.”
“And the more you cling to me, the more I feel like I’m being deceived somehow.”
“What I want is true love—the current of human kindness, warmth that overflows naturally from the heart.”

“So I’m telling you now—when Aiko’s warm heart gets chilled by your cold personality, that’s when we’ll part ways for good.”
“Please think carefully.”
“Before things reach that critical point, you’re free to either part ways immediately or make an effort to cultivate human compassion.”
“I’ll await your reply.”
“How about your reply?”

Aiko tapped the table as if trying to catch Masao’s attention.
She tapped it again and again.
Yet Masao remained motionless, his face still lowered.
An obese man stood up next to Aiko.
His face was thick, his body was thick, his limbs were thick, and especially his belly was protruding.
Moreover, since he wore extremely baggy clothes, he appeared even more obese.

“Sakutaro—according to this Sakutaro, it was Aiko who was being unreasonable. Even though there was no clear reason whatsoever, she was pointlessly finding fault. In the first place, everything women say is subjective and worthless. I’ll give you a truly objective take. In that case, you should be able to approve it, right? Masao-kun.”

Masao glanced up briefly, gazed at Sakutaro with a puzzled expression, then suddenly grimaced and lowered his face again.

Sakutaro extended both arms and fluttered his fully splayed palms.

“Sakutaro—You’re always so sturdy，aren’t you?”
“That’s why I like you.”
“There are those who say drinking too much harms the body，but you shouldn’t lend an ear to such talk.”
“Drink without restraint.”

Sakutaro placed both hands on his hips and stared fixedly at Masao.
Nearby, it was Aiko—wriggling her body—who appeared to be drunk.

“Masao-kun, your capacity for drink is truly impressive.
Most people in this world are fools, so unless you repeat things over and over to drill it into them, they won’t properly understand.
You’ve grasped that point well.
You repeat the same thing over and over.
Of course, there are interludes mixed in between, but they repeat the same thing about four times while opening one bottle of sake.
That’s the only way with fools.”

“The only slightly odd thing is how you later nonchalantly forget what you said while drunk.”
“So doesn’t that make a sliver of doubt arise in me too?”
“In other words—when you repeat the same thing four times while opening one bottle of sake, is it because you’ve forgotten saying it before and repeat it like it’s new? Or because you’re dealing with a fool? Which is it?”
“This I can’t grasp unless you confess.”

Masao—I don’t know either.

“Sakutaro—Ah, well, no wonder I don’t get it. Though come to think of it, completely forgetting your drunken antics afterward isn’t half bad. You’ve got a wicked sharp tongue, see? And you just blurt out whatever’s on your mind without a second thought. People end up gutted—left bleeding from deep wounds. Now, the other person’s one thing, but if you yourself remember that mess later? That’s real trouble. Even if you preach about smashing conventions and ignoring morals, social life still needs some basic etiquette. There’s got to be at least some hesitation about facing those you’ve skewered. But forget it all? Perfectly fine. That’s how us drunkards keep skating through.”

“Now then, let me just give you a warning. Even if you later forget everything nonchalantly, your attitude and words when drunk show not the slightest disarray—if anything, they’re rather more composed than when sober. So the other party can’t really tell you’re drunk. That way of getting drunk is far more dangerous than being completely wasted, you know. It risks causing serious misunderstandings. I don’t care how many matters you forget. I don’t care how many jokes you crack. But if the other party happens to be an overly earnest woman or a scrupulously upright gentleman, you might end up in a situation where there’s no possible way to explain yourself afterward. You’d better be careful on this point.”

In any case, your composed drinking was perfectly commendable.
Your increased talkativeness leading to mental clarity was perfectly commendable.
That you'd speak to anyone—even people without discernment—was perfectly commendable in the spirit of universal brotherhood.
Everything was commendable, but the only problem was your lack of money.
You had no assets to speak of—the manuscript fees from essays you scattered across magazines and newspapers amounted to little, and even Dawn's thirty-yen monthly subscription fee couldn't bring much income.
So it's only natural you'd occasionally crave questionable donations for Dawn.
Still, it's admirable you've managed to make a living somehow.
You probably don't have that much debt either.
Though the money for drinks always seems to come from somewhere.

Be that as it may，lately there’s something that just doesn’t sit right with me.
You couldn’t possibly be planning to turn your back on me now，could you? It’s just that your approach to alcohol has changed.
Two measures or three measures—then two measures or three measures again—day after day you call the liquor store multiple times.
Even the liquor store clerks must be astonished.
At times it started first thing in the morning and continued until evening.
It often amounted to over one sho（approximately 1．8 liters）in a day.
If that’s the case，instead of getting small amounts bit by bit，why not order a 1．8-liter bottle from the start?
The other day，you were probably teased by Aiko.
Calling for two measures or three measures over and over like that—the phone charges must be piling up.
“If it were me，I’d order a 1．8-liter bottle from the start and plonk it right on the dining table．”
“That way，it’ll surely work out．．．”

At the time, I carelessly let it slide, but what did she mean by 'work out'?
I can't help growing suspicious myself, don't you think?
You couldn't possibly be scheming to quit drinking, could you?
You and I have been partners in crime for ages.
And considering how you've always sworn that if exiled—to an island with women but no booze versus an island with booze but no women—you'd pick the island of booze without a second thought.
I don't believe it's true, but it nags at me.

“Ordering two measures here and three measures there—this isn’t some sneaky plan to cut back as a first step toward quitting drinking altogether, is it? And lately when you get drunk, you’ve turned downright irritable. It used to be such cheerful, pleasant drinking. You’re not getting angry at yourself for overdoing it again and causing this change, are you? If that’s how it is, I’ve got my own ideas about this. I won’t let it go unanswered—you’d better brace yourself. Masao-kun, what do you have to say? Why don’t you splash some liquor on your face and give me a straight answer?”

Masao raised his face, stared fixedly at Sakutaro with a hostile expression, but as if reconsidering, looked downward again.

From beside Sakutaro, a small man stood up.
He had a slender build like Tokihiko’s, but whereas Tokihiko was extremely tall, this one was ridiculously short.
He was clad in clothing that looked translucent.

“Enkichi—From where I stand, you all look ridiculous,” he said. “Dripping with lingering attachment to Masao-kun while scheming to claim him as your own.”
“I’m not scheming anything like that,” he continued. “The world will only turn out how it’s meant to anyway.”
“Whether you try to part with Masao-kun or not makes no difference to me.”
“Masao-kun feels the same way.”

Masao raised his face and stared at Enkichi with a puzzled expression, forming a sarcastic half-smile. Yet despite this, he sighed and lowered his gaze again.
Enkichi kept glancing toward him and crossed his arms.

“Masao-kun, you seem quite fond of cigarettes, but overindulgence harms the body,” said Enkichi. “They’re said to eliminate bad breath, stave off hunger, organize thoughts—but only in moderation. Smoke too much and your appetite vanishes, focus scatters, memory weakens. When I tell you this, it’s undeniable.” His voice sharpened. “Far from freshening breath—your mouth reeks, Masao-kun. Your tongue’s gone rough, teeth black with filth. Try exercising restraint.” A pause hung like smoke. “And let’s not forget nicotine’s vile poison.”

Enkichi turned and gazed at those standing rigidly nearby.

“Enkichi—It’s you people’s fault Masao-kun turned out this way.”
“Drink alcohol, and you’ll crave cigarettes like mad.”
“Think about love, and you’ll crave cigarettes like mad.”
“Laze around doing nothing, and you’ll crave cigarettes like mad.”
“Smoke that much, Masao-kun, and frankly—judging by your appearance—you can’t be called healthy.”

“So then, what do you say—why don’t we give Masao-kun some sort of gift to make amends? First off, you all just standing around here like this isn’t very smart. I hate staying still. I want to move around! Isn’t there something fun we could do? How about some fun and games? No, that comes later. First, we’ll start with gifts for Masao-kun. How about it? Don’t you agree?”

Enkichi called out to each in turn.
The others nodded twice in response, bobbing their heads each time.

Enkichi—"What about you, Sakutaro?"

Sakutaro—“Very well.”
“Agreed.”

Enkichi—“What about Aiko?”

Aiko—“Fine.”
“I agree.”

Enkichi—“What about Tokihiko?”

Tokihiko—“Very well.”
“Agreed.”

Enkichi—“Masao-kun, each of us will give you a gift.”
“They may not be rare finds, but these are heartfelt offerings—so stand up, bow properly, and accept them with due respect.”

A strange procession began.
With Enkichi at the head, the group slowly advanced toward Masao.
However, Masao glanced at the group, hunched over the table, cupped his forehead in both hands, and remained as still as a held breath.
Instead, Ichi, who had been sitting at the head of the round table, stood up and saw the group off from behind.

Enkichi approached Masao, observed his condition, paused for a moment, shook his head, and started walking again.
When and from where they had produced them, no one could tell—each member of the group now held an item in one hand.
And before Masao, Enkichi presented a tobacco can.
Sakutaro presented a sake bottle, Aiko a honey jar, and Tokihiko an iron-cased clock before Masao in turn.

Masao remained prostrate without moving a muscle.
Paying no heed to this, with Enkichi at the lead, the group circled around Masao once, twice, three times—round and round—with dancelike steps before returning to the round table.

Enkichi—"That concludes the gifts for Masao-kun."

Aiko—"I think we’d like to have our own feast this time as well."

Sakutaro—"Right, let's have our own drinking party!"

When Sakutaro pulled out a sake bottle, the group each produced the same items they had given Masao.

Sakutaro—"Hey Tokihiko, a clock ain't no damn use!"
"Bring out something with more kick!"

Tokihiko grinned, cupped the clock in both palms, and when he opened them—as if by magic—the clock had transformed into numerous small round balls.
Translucent spheres, pearl-like in appearance.
He dumped them onto the table with a clatter.

“Try it. It’s good.”
“However, I should warn you—if you eat this, you will not be able to sleep at all.”
“Is that still acceptable?”

“Sure thing—we’re pulling an all-nighter anyway.”

The group reached out for the pearl-like sweets and tried biting into them.
Exclamations of "Delicious! Delicious!"
And then they began drinking sake.
Sakutaro produced several more small sake bottles and urged them all to drink.
The group chugged down their drinks.

A pause.

Gradually, the intoxication began to take hold.
They drank sake haphazardly, smoked tobacco, nibbled on pearl-like candies, and even sampled the honey.

Ichi stood slightly apart, blankly gazing at the disorderly scene.

Aiko called out, “You’ve been planted there like a stump—what’s wrong with you?”
“How ridiculous.”
“Come over here and join us.”
“I don’t mind.”

Ichi hesitantly approached and joined the drinking party.
Yet he alone sank into a chair.

Enkichi announced, “I’ve grown restless.”
“I feel like singing something.”
“How about you lot?”

“All right!”
“With spirit now!”

Tokihiko took the lead and began singing La Marseillaise; everyone joined in harmony while beating on the table to keep time.
Ichi alone remained silent.
“Why aren’t you singing?” Aiko asked.
“I don’t know any such buttery songs,” Ichi replied.

Aiko—"Oh, that’s the French national anthem, isn’t it?"
"Then what do you know?"

Ichi—"Well... let me think."
"I guess it’d be something like the Noe-bushi folk song."

Aiko—"The Noe-bushi…"
“Ah, that must be the one called ‘The White Snow of Fuji,’ right?”

Sakutaro—"Good, let’s go with that one next."
“Spinning round and round—it can be sung endlessly.”
“It’s just like this round table.”

The group began walking around the round table as if dancing while singing the Noe-bushi folk song.
The song looped from end back to beginning as they circled the round table countless times—only Ichi remained seated throughout.

Suddenly, Tokihiko stopped beside Ichi and peered into his face.

“Well now, this is strange,” said Tokihiko. “Even though he ate my candies, this man is dozing off.”
“He shouldn’t be able to sleep at all though...”

They all gathered there.

Enkichi—“So this ‘can’t sleep’ thing—is it really true?”
Tokihiko—“I don’t lie.”
Enkichi—“Then this guy’s faking sleep?”

Enkichi struck Ichi's back.
The others joined in beating him.
Ichi woke up and looked around.

Enkichi—"Were you really asleep?"

Ichi—"I felt myself vanishing away somewhere smoothly."
"And then I had a dream."

Enkichi—“What kind of dream was it?”

Ichi—“It was a deep river abyss."
"The upper part had shallow rapids where clear water murmured over stones."
"The water flowed down and formed a deep abyss."
"When I gazed at that abyss within my heart, it grew deeper and deeper."
"It became unfathomably deep."
"The water turned murky black and stagnated completely."
“I can’t even guess what’s happening at the bottom.”
“There’s probably no air circulating there.”
"The water must be rotten."
“Fish don’t seem to approach it either.”
"That deep abyss continued all the way downstream."
"One side was a high steep cliff where I stood."
"When I peered into the abyss from the cliff, a terrifying force seemed to pull me in."
"Inevitably—fatefully—I was destined to fall into that abyss."
"I resisted with all my strength."
"I clung to the cliff’s edge."
"But I kept sliding down helplessly."

There was nothing I could do.
Look, I was nearing the abyss.
From above, rocks were falling.
They kept falling down one after another, hitting my back.
I thought it was all over.
And then I woke up.

Enkichi—“Hoh! So that’s the dream you had.”
“Well then, you should thank us.”
“You didn’t fall into the abyss because of us, you know.”

“It was just something from a dream.”

“Even if it was just a dream,” Enkichi said. “We’re the ones who shook you awake.”

Ichi—"Were you being haunted by nightmares or something?"
That deep abyss was truly awful.
His stomach churned.

Sakutaro—“Cut it out with this dream talk.”
“If your stomach’s churning, have some more booze.”

Aiko—“Wasn’t it because you ate those pearl candies?”

Tokihiko—“Don’t talk nonsense.”
“This happened because you ate these and then took a nap.”
But this man’s a bit strange.
The dream talk wasn’t entirely worthless.
He seemed to have a bit of backbone.

“What? Backbone my ass.”
“Drink up! Drink up!”

Ichi absentmindedly picked up a sake bottle.
The group resumed eating and drinking.
The seating became disorderly.

A beat.

A strange thing happened.
Excluding Ichi, the others would occasionally raise their hands to swat at the backs of their heads as if their hair were being pulled from behind and turn around.

Sakutaro—“Who’s pulling my hair?”

“Enkichi—Who’s pulling the hair?”

Aiko—"Stop pulling hair!"
Tokihiko—"Quit this mischief."
Each time it happened, they exchanged glances and wore baffled expressions.

Tokihiko—"There's something strange going on here."
"None of us are pulling anyone's hair."
"And yet we're being pulled by someone."
Even when they turned around, there was no one there.
But it was certain they were being pulled.
This wasn't because they were drunk.
Something was there.
Utterly bizarre.

“What could it be?”
“I’ve gotten so scared somehow.”

Sakutaro—“Nah, next time it happens, I’ll catch ’em.”

Enkichi—"There’s such a thing as logic beyond logic in this world."
"Could it be a ghost?"
"If it’s a ghost, this’ll be fun!"
"Ghost, come out!"

Sensing some presence and as if on guard, the group huddled together in one spot.

In front of the group—that is, behind Masao—at one end of the round table, a human figure materialized faintly. She was a white-haired old woman wearing a pale gray kimono, but her entire form remained blurred and indistinct.—From around this point, Masao lifted his face—still resting his cheek on the table—but without lowering his eyes, he gazed vaguely at the group.

“It was me who pulled you people’s hair,” said the old woman. “Oh, it’s nothing—just a little prank. There’s no need to get creeped out. There’s no malice in it, you know.”

“—I’m an old acquaintance of yours. My husband—Masao’s father—was just like Masao. No, I suppose Masao took after his father. Father was a heavy drinker—Masao was nowhere near that. He’d drink morning sake every day, drink midday sake, and then nightcap sake too. Though that was before he died. He never let tobacco leave his mouth. From his youth he was a womanizer, and in old age he only grew more vigorous. He must have sired several illegitimate children somewhere. Because of all that, he was a lazy person—never did any proper work, just idled about. And he damaged his liver and kidneys and died.”

“But such a man he was, he had one redeeming feature.”
“It was that he didn’t cling to things.”
“Whether you’d call it serene detachment or simple indifference—he never got attached to any single thing.”
“Even when he drank, alcohol never drank him.”
“No matter how much he smoked, tobacco never smoked him up.”
“He chased women, but women never chased him down.”
“In that way, I say he was admirable.”
“They claim you can’t grasp truth without wholehearted devotion—but flip it around, and getting too devoted often leaves you blind. Happens all the time.”

Compared to him, the men of this age had become so petty.
“Because they immediately drown themselves in everything.”
“Drowning in alcohol... drowning in tobacco... drowning in women... drowning in work...”
“Is there anything they don’t drown themselves in?”
“Once you drown, it’s all over.”
“Has anyone who’s drowned ever been cast out from water?”
“You only emerge from water when you’re already a corpse.”

“Therefore you people had best be careful.”
“If you’re careless, you’ll commit terrible murder.”
“After all—they are what they are.”
“They want to drown themselves in everything.”
“Those who can’t swim leap straight into deep abysses just because there’s drought.”

“And you people aren’t blameless either.”
“Everyone’s greed has grown deeper.”
“That grasping mindset where once you seize something, you never let go.”
“Petty creatures.”
“You people must have grown poorer than in the old days, I suppose.”
“Poverty makes one greedy.”
“But you must know your station in life.”
“Acting high and mighty is one thing, but don’t get greedy.”
“Mark my words—get too greedy, and you’ll lose everything.”
“Do you understand? If you do, that’s all that matters.”

The old woman’s figure vanished as if being erased.
The group began drinking alcohol as if relieved.

For a while, there was silence.

“Sakutaro—That damn hag.”

Enkichi—Had the nerve to lecture us.

Aiko—The moment she felt that person tug her hair, her entire scalp began itching.

Tokihiko—"But we were splendidly beaten, weren’t we."

Enkichi—“Who says?”
Tokihiko—“We all were.”
Enkichi—“No—I don’t think we were beaten.”
Aiko—“I don’t think so either. The times are different—it’s just that ways of thinking have changed.”

“Sakutaro—But that part about us having grown poorer—I’m confounded.”
“We’ve truly declined, you know.”

“I don’t care if we’ve fallen,” said Enkichi. “Everything’s that way, isn’t it?”

The group, clamoring about something, ate and drank in self-destructive abandon.
The scene grew increasingly chaotic.

Strangely enough, it felt as though they weren't the only ones in the room.
I (the author) had been getting that impression from the very beginning.
What was visible was only them, but there was a sense that various other people were still lurking somewhere.
Of course, those presences neither showed themselves nor spoke, but they were undoubtedly in that room.
Because of those presences whose true nature remained unclear, the atmosphere in the room had become strangely disordered and fraught with restless unease.
Therefore, even when the old woman's figure appeared and disappeared, it wasn't particularly surprising to me.
Even in the feast of the visible ones, it felt as though many shadowy figures were participating.
However, the fact that those shadowy figures do not readily show themselves is something I deeply regret.

Ichi, who had been sitting silently alone, suddenly noticed Masao facing his direction with his head raised, stared fixedly at him, and then stood up.

Ichi—"Masao-kun, was that old woman earlier really your mother?"
"She herself said as much…"

Masao kept his cheek propped on his hand, no longer lowering his face, and wore a defiant smile.

Masao—"Who knows? I can't say for certain."

Ichi—“What do you mean? Have you become unable to recognize even your own mother?”

Masao—“Since she was facing that way, it couldn’t be clearly discerned from just her back.”

Ichi—“Then why didn’t you either stand up and come over or say something to confirm it?”

Masao—“I had no interest in that.”

Ichi—“It’s not a matter of interest. It’s a matter of sentiment.”

Masao—For me right now, I’m completely occupied with my own affairs. However, what that person said was quite informative. Or perhaps she’d said it intending to teach me something. Still, some incomprehension stemming from generational differences was perhaps inevitable.

Ichi—"What points are incomprehensible?"

Masao—"The method of resolution differs."

Ichi—"What resolution?"

Masao—"I’ll show you that eventually."

Aiko—"Oh, Mr. Masao is talking."

The group turned their gaze toward Masao.
Strangely enough, they had been standing continuously since the moment they first stood up.

Sakutaro—“Well now, looking this way without any shame.”
“That’s right—you should show some spirit.”
“And well—have a drink or something.”
“We’ve gotten quite drunk already.”
“Earlier, we got quite an earful from the one who claims to be your mother—I’m sure you heard it too.”
“She’s quite the character.”
“Drowning in alcohol, drowning in tobacco, drowning in women, drowning in work—they say that’s the prevalent vice of our time.”
“A prevalent vice, however, is like the spirit of the age—one should at least acquire a basic grasp of it.”
“So go ahead and drown in them.”
“How about it? Won’t you come over here?”
“Or should we come over to you instead?”

Ichi—“Hey, you all, keep it down! Masao-kun asked me from the start to let him be for a while longer. Let’s just leave things as they are.”

Enkichi—"That's why we solemnly offered up our gifts."
"We won't meddle where we're not wanted."

Tokihiko—"That judgment waits upon chronology."
"We've no intention of abandoning Masao-kun to solitude."

Aiko—“That’s right, that’s right. I’ll go and bring him here.”

Enkichi—"Hold on."

Masao gazed at the items on the table.
He took the liquor bottle and gulped it down.
He took the honey jar and filled his mouth with it.
He gulped down the liquor again.
He took up the clock and looked at the time.
Then he took a cigarette from the can and leisurely puffed on it.
The group watched his every single action.

Masao—"Do you all understand what it means that I'm doing this here? This is my farewell! I've had enough—let's part ways decisively. But I'm not slinking away like some coward. I too have my pride to maintain. And I'll make you all understand it. Yes—I'll make you understand. This will be magnificent. Watch me—I'll make you understand!"

Masao took up each item on the table—the liquor bottle, honey jar, tobacco can, and clock—one by one, and hurled them at the window.
The sound of shattering window glass rang out, and the objects vanished into the darkness outside.—The window with its scattered glass gaped like a maw.
Masao twisted his body around for an instant, dashed forward, and leaped out through the window's gaping hole.

Ichi—“Oh no!”
Ichi—“Damn it!”

Ichi dashed to the window.
The group also rushed over.
They opened the other windows as well and peered through them into the outside.

“This is the fourth floor,” said Ichi. “No one jumps down from here unharmed. The body gets pulverized into dust. I’ll go investigate.”

The group turned around, opened the door on the side opposite the window, and went out into the hallway.

At that moment, I (the author) heard not only their footsteps but other rustlings too, distinctly.
It wasn’t just those visible to the eye—there must have been many more individuals in the room.
And Masao had likely been laid bare before that multitude.

Thinking that, I shuddered.

But after every last person had left, the room fell deathly silent—a silence that deepened further until it could be felt in my ears and on my skin, growing into an indescribably terrifying sensation.
From the window left wide open to the door left gaping, the chill night air drifted through.
When I glanced around, the feast items on the round table had vanished as if by miracle.
What had become of them?
Surely they weren't sorcerers, yet this was an utterly mystifying situation.
As I pondered this, the ceiling light suddenly went out again with eerie abruptness.
The room was sealed in darkness.

After a moment's hesitation, I groped my way toward the window with hands and feet.
The window was outlined in a faint glow.
I leaned out from the window and looked, but the outdoors held nothing but darkness deeply pooled.
No trees were visible, nor were any other buildings.
No ground was visible below the window—nothing could be seen, no lamplight was visible, and not a single sound could be heard—not even human voices.
What had become of Masao and the others?
They could only have vanished suddenly.
Could it be that I had been dreaming?
I could only stand there blankly.