Pathway to Japanese Literature

For Nakayama Toshiko, who was now twenty-four years old, there had been two marriage proposals in the postwar period.
The first proposal hadn’t been particularly promising, so her mother had terminated it without even informing her.
The second one had been brought by Aunt Soejima, and her mother, being quite enthusiastic about it, arranged for Toshiko and the man in question to meet discreetly at the Soejima residence.

The man in question, Tsutsui Naosuke, was said to be an upstanding person.
He was employed at a company directly connected to the one where Soejima’s uncle served as a director.
He held a bachelor’s degree in economics, had been mobilized during the war, and had worked for about two years in the Army Accounting Department.
He was said to be gentle in nature, completely without rough edges, and had never quarreled with his colleagues.
He had yet to display any exceptional talents, but was extremely diligent and reportedly had the lowest absence rate.
Since his deceased father had left a considerable inheritance, it was said that there would be no anxiety regarding his future livelihood.
He had once suffered from a brief stomach ailment, but it was reported that he was now in perfect health.
He was said to be of medium build and height, with a fair complexion and facial features of the handsome type.
It was said that his drinking, smoking, and other hobbies and amusements all struck a moderate balance.—While this overview was quite detailed for a marriage proposal, in reality, it said nothing at all.

Nakayama Toshiko had been told all these things by her mother and had even been shown a photograph of the man, but everything seemed like unrelated matters that had nothing to do with her.
It had only been a few months since the war ended, and matters like marriage did not resonate with her heart—she was simply filling her chest with a vague, expansive breath of freedom.
Even when she met the man in question at the Soejima residence, she remained relatively composed.

At the Soejima residence, close acquaintances unrelated to business were invited every year on March 15th, the wedding anniversary of Aunt and Uncle Soejima.
The afternoon was a tea gathering primarily for old acquaintances; the evening was a dinner gathering mainly for relatives by marriage.
In days of old, during a time when they had endured quite difficult circumstances, such things as how Aunt had taken all the main belongings—starting with the bridal trousseau she had brought—to the pawnshop, leaving the house an empty shell, were always brought up as boasts.
Since these were boasts, they were naturally underpinned by their current wealth.

That gathering had been interrupted for a year due to air raids and was revived in the year following the war’s end.

Nakayama Toshiko was taken by mother and went to the Soejimas’ house early in the afternoon.
From what was usually an evening gathering becoming daytime, being made to apply makeup more carefully than usual, being taken to the tatami room despite few guests having arrived, and various other signs, Toshiko realized this concerned that marriage proposal.

In the large hall formed by combining ten-mat and eight-mat rooms, there were only Uncle and Aunt Soejima with four or five guests.
Among them, the youngest person proved to be Tsutsui Naosuke himself, Toshiko realized.
Strangely enough, no mutual introduction ever occurred between them.

Later, her mother said.

“The youngest person there at that time was Mr. Tsutsui.”
“What do you think?”

Toshiko had a mischievous look in her eyes.

“That’s impossible, Mother. There’s just no way for me to feel anything about it.”

The answer concerned the marriage proposal, and as for Tsutsui Naosuke himself, Toshiko had made various discoveries.

He was a man as neatly put together as a doll.
He wore a well-tailored suit and sat facing straight ahead.
He did not seem to twist his body left or right.
He had fair, upturned facial features, with a faint shadow across his forehead.
That shadow seemed to restrain his facial expressions, giving them a refined quality.
Even when laughing, there seemed to be a fixed limit to his voice, gaze, and facial movements.
Even his heartbeat seemed to always maintain a perfectly regulated rhythm.
And all these things clung closely to his very being; he never furrowed his brows nor grew bored, maintaining a serene sense of self-sufficiency.

Uncle Soejima occasionally directed words his way as well.
He never initiated conversations himself, but when others directed remarks toward him, he responded with inoffensive, balanced replies.
In other words, he seemed well-versed in the technique of speaking as frankly as possible while saying as little as possible.
But regarding this matter, Toshiko didn’t quite understand.
Politics, economics, law—matters she couldn’t muster much interest in—had become the main topics.
In between these discussions, lighter topics like fishing, horse racing, and Go or shogi were brought up as well, but to each of these too, he seemed to have appropriate opinions.
Regarding the question of which was more interesting—Go or shogi—he said.

“I believe it depends on whether one improves quickly or slowly.”
“For those who improve quickly at Go, Go would be more interesting, and for those who improve quickly at shogi, shogi would also be interesting.”

Such opinions only served to wither the conversation rather than develop it.
And he himself, with utmost seriousness, listened attentively to everything while eating sweets, snacking on peanuts, and drinking coffee with a splash of whiskey added—just like the rest of the gathering.
He seemed to be paying almost no attention toward Toshiko’s direction.

Toshiko hadn’t exactly been paying attention to him either.
She sat demurely with downcast eyes, keeping Aunt Soejima company while fiddling with the tea sweets.
And just occasionally, she would glance his way.
Moving her gaze had been an act of mischief, but the gaze itself pierced through the gathering’s void, threaded through gaps, and captured various things.

I wonder if he isn’t bored like that.

That was the conclusion.
And Toshiko herself had already begun growing bored with her gaze's mischief.
Seizing the opportunity when three new guests arrived, she stood up, withdrew to the tea room, and chuckled under her breath.

The mother who had followed behind, seeing Toshiko's apparently cheerful state, smiled with relief.
Then from Aunt Soejima they received cordial hospitality in the tea room, and since nighttime was unsafe, took their leave while daylight remained.

Until then matters had progressed smoothly, but beyond that point everything grew thoroughly ambiguous. Regarding the marriage proposal itself - that she could neither feel nor think anything about it had been Toshiko's reply; regarding Tsutsui Naosuke personally - that he was an admirably doll-like person had been Toshiko's reply. With only these responses they found themselves unable to either advance negotiations or terminate them.

From Aunt Soejima came frequent urgings to confirm Toshiko's intentions, followed later by suggestions that she might call together with Tsutsui Naosuke himself. Toshiko's brother - still unmarried and commuting daily to his science university research laboratory - paid no attention whatsoever to marriage talk and simply declared they should leave everything to Toshiko's own will.
And so her mother alone fretted.

Her mother tried to persuade Toshiko in various ways.
She repeatedly spoke about how Toshiko was already twenty-four years old, about Tsutsui Naosuke’s family standing and personal qualities, about how deeply invested Aunt Soejima was in this matter, about how much they had relied on Aunt Soejima’s support after her father’s passing, and about how they now owed it to her to provide a definite answer.

At such times, Mother would always peer into the large paulownia-wood hibachi and adopt an attitude as if smoothing ashes with her gaze.
Her tone was so heartfelt that it seemed she spoke not to Toshiko, but to herself.

“Well, how about just trying to get acquainted for now?”
“In these times, there should be no issue with clearly deciding one way or the other after you’ve spent some time together.”
“Since Aunt Soejima says she’ll bring him along, we should simply entrust this matter to her.”
“However, if when the time comes you take a dislike to meeting him and try to run off, that would truly cause problems, so we must be perfectly clear about this in advance.”

Toshiko, not knowing where to look, answered while gazing at her small white fingernails.

“If it were just courtship alone, that would be fine, but courtship aimed at marriage is utterly pointless.”

Her mother raised her eyes and stared fixedly at Toshiko.

“So you dislike the marriage proposal with him?”

“It’s not just him specifically, you know. Marriage itself is still too soon.”

“You say such things, but you’re already twenty-four. How can you tell Aunt Soejima ‘marriage is too soon’? Anyone would feel it’s still early to marry. I too once tried to run away when first meeting your father and was scolded terribly afterward. But you’re turning twenty-four.”

“Oh Mother, you’re always mentioning my age, but that’s not it at all.”
“The war has only just ended… That’s why I think it’s too early for marriage.”

Once it reached that point, the conversation no longer flowed smoothly. To Toshiko, the free era that had opened up postwar felt fundamentally incompatible with marriage itself. Especially when it came to marrying someone of Tsutsui Naosuke’s character—the very notion felt inconceivable. Yet if she were to reject this proposal now, another would inevitably follow later. She resolved to use this one as a shield against all future marriage talks. It wasn’t that she championed singlehood; she simply wanted to breathe unfettered air for a while—until her spirit settled. These thoughts proved difficult for Toshiko to articulate to her mother, and equally hard for her mother to grasp.

As if to pierce through that murky feeling, Toshiko said.

“Even Yoko is older than me, but she’s still single.”

Akita Yōko was Nakayama Toshiko's hometown friend who, after completing girls' school in her hometown, came to Tokyo to study at a specialized school, lodged at a relative's house, and was employed at a publishing company.
She had round eyes that moved briskly, which at times appeared utterly innocent and at others wildly free-spirited.

Around the time the marriage issue arose for Toshiko, Akita Yōko had returned to her hometown, but after not sending a single word, she suddenly visited upon returning to Tokyo.

Toshiko leapt for joy and welcomed her into her room.

Their faces staring intently at each other showed not the slightest change from before.
That alone already seemed to have concluded the real conversation.

Toshiko confided about the marriage proposal in a casual tone, as if making small talk.
She explained her own stance regarding it.
Yōko agreed to everything.
And she said.

“If you go through with marriage nowadays, I’ll cut all ties.”

With a smile on her face and those large eyes staring intently at her, Toshiko felt as though a nail had been driven into her chest.

Yōko had brought lightly grilled and sun-dried mountain trout from her hometown as a gift.
Toshiko turned the conversation toward that subject.

“It’s really lovely.”
Yoko rolled her eyes animatedly.
“The mountains are turning fresh green, and cherry blossoms are starting to bloom here and there….”
“The river water is turbid and flowing torrentially.”

“It’s turbid…”

“Oh, have you already forgotten?
“It’s the snowmelt water.”
“The river water swelling and turning turbid…”
“You were happy then, weren’t you?”

That was something only people from snow country could understand.
From the time she had first entered girls' school, when her entire family moved to Tokyo, Toshiko had nearly forgotten that.
But even more than that...

It wasn’t that she had forgotten, but rather that something she had quietly stored away in a distant place had come to appear close at hand.
Toshiko found herself dwelling on that thought more and more often.
After Yōko had left, she leaned against her desk alone and dwelled on that thought once more.

Snow play typically progresses from sleds to geta skates to skis, but at that time, despite being on the verge of entering girls’ school, for some reason she still kept wanting to ride the sled.
Was it because her brother had said that simply sliding the sled was boring and kept adjusting the rudder in various ways, or was it because that person had been riding the sled so much?
That person who had come to the hot spring town connected to the city possessed a kind of unattainable charm.
He knew about all sorts of things—taught me the names of poets like Heine, Byron, Verlaine, and many others—and read their poems aloud to me.
Then, when we went outside, he got on the children’s skis and rejoiced like a child…

It was a clear day.
As far as the eye could see was pure white—or rather, it felt as though they were enveloped in pure white light.
When he said, “Shall I give you a ride on the sled?” she got on while laughing.
She sat down right behind him.
He straddled the front of the sled and steered with a stick.
They glided smoothly.

When they slid down the slope, they next had to haul the sled back up, but she simply followed behind as he pulled it up alone.
They climbed far beyond where children ordinarily went—higher and higher, climbing and climbing.
When the two of them got on the sled and began to glide, it was as if they were flying through the air.
In the pure white light, the air was crisp, and it lightly brushed against their cheeks.
And a voice spoke.

“I love you.”
“I truly love you.”

Was it a line from a poem?
No—it was indeed that person’s own words.
That sank deep, lingered in her ears, and remained in her heart.

“I love you.”
“I truly love you.”

The sled gained momentum and slid.
It slid endlessly.
And then finally stopped.

That person got off the sled.
In an upright posture wearing a deerskin jacket, with long hair clustered in locks and a face as cold as drained blood, he gazed into the distance.
That somehow pure and crisp demeanor made it impossible to believe he was the same person who had uttered those words earlier.
If that was so, then who had spoken those words?

“Please let me ride the sled more.”

That person turned around and smiled.
He then hauled the sled up to a distant place once more.
The two got on the sled just as they had before.

The sled began to slide.
It glided swiftly.
Light flowed and air streamed.

"I love you.
"I truly love you."

A voice sounded, and the sled slid away into the distance.

“I love you.
“I truly love you.”

The sled slid increasingly fast.

When the sled stopped, that person got off and stood on the snow with the same crisp purity as before.
After a while, he turned and said.

“That’s enough for now.”
“Let’s get off.”

With a dazzled feeling, she was helped down by that person.
Since she couldn’t bring herself to try once more, she returned in silence.
That person stayed silent too...

At that time, that person was named Hoshina Tetsuo.
The fact that she had remembered this until now seemed so strange to Nakayama Toshiko.
She had neither met him since then nor heard any rumors about him.
They had become separated and drifted far apart.

Why had this now come back to her so vividly?
Toshiko sank deeply into meditation.
When she emerged from her meditation, she found herself wanting to see Akita Yōko again.

The publisher where Akita Yōko worked was located in a building half-burned by an air raid.
In the uncleaned hall, a great many people were jumbled together in disarray.
Nakayama Toshiko hesitated slightly and stood at the doorway.
She didn’t know whom to ask for guidance.

After a while, Yōko in Western clothes came hurrying over.

“Oh, it was you.
I thought you were some strange person dawdling there…”

Yōko led Toshiko out into the hallway as if pushing her.
Then, after dashing into the hall and some time passing, she emerged this time with a composed demeanor.
And taking the lead, she descended the stairs and emerged onto the street.

“Aren’t you busy?” Toshiko asked.

“Yes, I’m very busy.”

“In that case, I’ll just be on my way since I only came by, so…”

“It’s fine.”
“Let’s have some tea or something.”
“Since I’m so busy anyway, there’s no harm in taking time to unwind.”

Yōko laughed, then continued beaming.
Beside her, Toshiko felt her heart grow heavy and sink.

There was a narrow shop with coffee and some sweets.
In that corner, the two took seats.

Yōko rolled her eyes, fixed them on Toshiko’s face, and said teasingly.

“How did the marriage talk go?”
“Is it settled?”

Toshiko simply shook her head.

“So it’s moving forward?”

“No, I’ve just scrapped it…”
“But more than that—all these old memories keep surfacing, making me feel like I’ve returned to childhood. What’s happening to me…?”

“Sentimentalism….”

After saying that slowly, Yōko suddenly became serious.

“Rather than returning to the past to become a child, you should forget the past and become one.”
“There’s just such an endeavor underway, you know.”
“Because of that, even I’m being made to do extra work.”

It referred to the artists’ new group.
It was said to be a gathering of diverse people—novelists, critics, poets, musicians, painters, entertainers, dancers, editors, and others—with tremendous ambition to bury all of the past and create everything anew in order to spark a new global cultural movement in postwar Japan.
They were said to be avant-garde people starting from a baby’s unique realm.

“Everyone’s lively and cheerful—there’s absolutely no room for sentimentalism to creep in.”

However, Toshiko didn't quite grasp what it was all about.

"Actually, I don't really understand it either."

Having said that, Yōko laughed.

“And what do they do?”

“They’ll play the second movement of Eroica—that funeral march—and then form a procession with lit candles, they say.”

“And then…?”

“In complete darkness, they say there’ll be midnight sermons or something like that.”

“And then…?”

“There’ll be plenty of alcohol, and everyone gets drunk, they say.”

“And then…?”

“Though it’s about the future, they say they’ll do everything—publishing magazines, putting on ballets, art exhibitions, plays… anything at all.”

“What kind of people gather there?”

Yōko began listing names from her memory.
There were a few that Toshiko knew, but most were ones she didn’t.

When the names trailed off, Yōko suddenly rolled her eyes.

“There’s more.”
“It’s someone both you and I know.”
“Though young, he’s said to be a genius poet.”
“Mr. Hoshina Tetsuo… Do you remember him?”

Toshiko widened her eyes and stiffened her shoulders.

“When you were in the countryside—the student who used to come to the hot springs. You rode sleds together, didn’t you?”

“I remember.”

“I remember.”

That was all Toshiko finally said.

Then Yōko continued talking about the group.
After listening silently to that, Toshiko eventually asked.

“May I come to see that gathering too?”

“Yes, do come.”
“Our building’s the venue, and since I’m helping organize it, there’s no problem.”
“But you can’t become a member.”
“From what I heard, their selection’s terribly strict—you can’t do this or that.”
“Even so, they apparently have nearly a hundred members.”
“Everything about them is downright bizarre.”
“But they’re sure to be fascinating.”

“Then I’ll entrust it to you.”

“Yeah, you’ll come for sure, won’t you?”

The gathering was scheduled to begin around 3:00 p.m. on April 20th.
However, since it was a gathering of free-spirited and self-indulgent people, it was said that things would likely start considerably later than planned.

For those few days until then, Toshiko spent her days with a somehow new feeling.
She held not the slightest expectation of what might come from meeting Hoshina Tetsuo, yet the group’s purpose as explained by Yōko had touched her heart even if she didn’t fully understand it.
Even in those words that simply said 'bury all of the past,' she sensed something new—a breath of freedom in the air.
In the snow, on that sled, even the phantom of those words she’d once heard might have vanished had she met the real Hoshina Tetsuo.

When the day arrived, Toshiko put on a lightweight brown wool suit and her Kiddo red shoes, setting out cheerfully.

The car was late, and she arrived at the venue past three-thirty.

Bewildered, Toshiko went outside.
After walking around the street and returning, as she slowly climbed the stairs, she unexpectedly encountered Yōko.

The two nodded to each other.
Yōko pulled Toshiko to the unoccupied end of the corridor.

“Mr. Hoshina was here earlier.”
“Wait right there—I’ll go look for him.”

There, Toshiko was made to wait for a long time.
Then she went outside and stood absently on the street, waiting.
While gazing half-consciously at the passersby, she felt as though her heart were fluttering back to that distant snow country.

After a long time had passed, Yōko arrived.

“So this is where you were.”
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“But this time, it’s Mr. Hoshina who’s gone.”
“His companions say he’s vanished off somewhere.”
“Somehow there were a lot of mishaps, so it seems the event isn’t proceeding as planned.”
“But it’s strange how everyone’s acting so unfazed.”
“It’s about to start.”
“Shall we go to the venue?”

Toshiko wore a lifeless smile and made no attempt to move.

Yōko also remained there absently.
And after a while, she suddenly started laughing.

“It’s just like we’re lying in ambush.”

After that, Yōko dashed off.

From afar, two young men approached.
Yōko turned around and beckoned to Toshiko.
Toshiko walked slowly and straight ahead.

Yōko was already talking with two young men.
Toshiko realized that one of them was Hoshina Tetsuo.

Hatless, with curly long hair, from behind his glasses shone eyes that seemed to peer from some deeper place.
His tall, slender frame was dressed in slightly baggy trousers and a neatly fitted jacket.
Toward him, Toshiko walked straight ahead.
She felt neither timidity nor embarrassment, only a sensation as if in a dream.

Hoshina Tetsuo began to raise his left hand slightly, lowered it again, stopped, and gazed intently at Toshiko.

“Are you the Ms. Nakayama from back then?”
“You haven’t changed a bit.”
“Or rather, you’ve grown quite a lot.”

At that moment, Toshiko noticed he was slightly drunk.

"You came after all."
"You should become a member."
"Since Ms. Akita kept quiet about it, I didn't know anything about you."
"Come on, let's go."
"We'll talk properly later."
"Our group is quite enjoyable."
"Naked savages who know only etiquette—that's the kind of people our group consists of."

Yōko and a young man walked ahead, and Toshiko walked alongside Hoshina.
Hoshina turned around.

"Is your brother well? And your parents too?"

“Yes, they are with me,” Toshiko answered.

“Where do you live?”

Toshiko stated her address.
Hoshina stopped walking, took out his notebook, and wrote it down.

“I’ll come to visit you soon.”

At that moment, Toshiko spoke nonsense without even realizing it herself.

“From May 5th onward, I might go on a trip.”

“Huh? Where are you going?”

"I haven't made up my mind yet, but I've settled on May 5th."

Even afterward, Toshiko couldn't comprehend why she had said such a thing.
Yet both then and later, she felt strangely convinced that May 5th had been predetermined as the deadline all along.

Hoshina stared fixedly at Toshiko's face before resuming his walk.
At the building entrance, he paused once more to gaze at her.
Toshiko kept her eyes averted, staring blankly into space.

When they climbed the narrow stairs and reached the venue entrance, they realized something had already begun inside.
When Hoshina moved to usher Toshiko in first, she stepped aside to let him enter ahead of her, waited a moment, then softly closed the door.
And then Toshiko turned around and left.

The latter part of April passed like a dream.

When the marriage proposal discussion arose, Toshiko said to Mother:
"But May Fifth hasn't arrived yet."
"Why May Fifth?"

“The fact that I decided that—I did tell you, Mother.”

“No, I never heard anything like that.”

Mother had a puzzled look.
But Mother herself had long been mindful of the May Fifth festival.
Though fuel was scarce, she would talk at dinner about wanting to at least heat the bathhouse for an iris bath, or how even if rice dumplings were impossible she could manage oak-leaf cakes, or how now that the war was over they might display some old warrior dolls.
What connection existed between this festival and Toshiko's May Fifth, Mother couldn't begin to fathom.
This was only natural - for Toshiko too, there had been no such connection at all.

Until that day, Toshiko did not want to say anything about anything and did not want to meet anyone.
Even when Aunt Soejima came by，she only exchanged brief greetings before retreating.
Even when friends visited，she treated them curtly.
She had nearly stopped helping the maid with cleaning and cooking altogether.

On May 2nd, when Hoshina Tetsuo came to visit, Toshiko remained seated for an extended period for the first time. Like a mischievous student before a former teacher, she fidgeted hesitantly with few words.

In the conversation between Hoshina and Mother, various things came to light.

Mother learned for the first time that Toshiko had attended the April 20th gathering.
Hoshina learned for the first time that Toshiko’s father had died.
Mother learned for the first time about Toshiko’s intention to depart on a trip after May 5th.

“Are you truly considering something like going on a trip?”

Mother asked Toshiko.

Toshiko looked alternately at Mother and Hoshina and said in a coaxing tone.

“I was just considering it,”
“But gradually it became my true intention.”
“Mother, it’s all right, isn’t it? Just a week—won’t you let me go?”

“Where on earth are you going?”

“I’d like to go visit a country town.”
“I’ll stay at Uncle Ichirō’s place, look at the mountains, watch the river with snowmelt water flowing—I’ll behave properly, so please, isn’t it all right?”

Mother wore an unconvinced expression.
Hoshina smiled quietly beside them.

“That sounds good. Gazing at mountains and snowmelt water… You’ve become quite the poet now, Miss Toshiko.”

Toshiko grinned like a child.

Yet contrary to expectations, the travel plan she proposed at such a moment easily gained Mother’s consent.
Mother had gradually grown troubled by her inability to grasp Toshiko’s true feelings, and so resolved to grant her some measure of freedom.
Though Hoshina never voiced it aloud, one could discern he shared similar sentiments.

Toshiko thanked the two of them and cheerfully rose from her seat.

Toshiko went to her room and rapped her knees.
Her feelings had completely changed from how they were that evening.

Two nights prior, Toshiko had also rapped her knees.
She felt somehow frustrated and couldn’t keep still.

While I despised marriage, I still found myself yearning for an imaginary one.
Using my engagement talks with Mr. Tsutsui as a shield to reject all marriage proposals had also been because I wanted to avoid marrying any particular person while yearning for an imaginary marriage.
The reason I had newly evoked the phantom of the sled was not because I loved Mr. Hoshina, nor because Mr. Hoshina had loved me, but because I was dreaming of an imaginary love.
I’ve had enough.
I’ll throw everything away.
And I want to become truly free.

Toshiko rapped her knees.
Her groin muscles ached, and her fingernails grew sore.
Even so, she kept rapping her knees.
When she glanced up suddenly, another self in the full-length mirror was tapping knees too.
When she stopped knocking, the mirror figure stopped knocking.
When she stared fixedly, the figure stared fixedly back.
When she sprang up in alarm, the figure sprang up too.
At that moment, the figure made an intensely sorrowful face before finally shedding a single tear.
A tear dampened her cheek.
Toshiko collapsed there and wept.
Tears kept welling up endlessly.
After crying until spent, she straightened up and resumed knocking her knees.

I wonder if I’m suffering from neurasthenia.

Toshiko rapped her knees again.
Her thigh muscles had gone numb.
But when she peered into the full-length mirror, there was no longer any trace of her there—only her own figure remained…
That lifted a weight from Toshiko’s chest.

How ridiculous.
I'll despise everything and cast it all away.

Toshiko returned to a childlike feeling.
Then she began preparing for her trip.
Simple personal belongings alone were sufficient.

On the morning of May 5th, Toshiko gave mother a clear answer.

“Mother, I’ve caused you worry, but could you please decline that proposal to Aunt Soejima? However much I think about it, I just can’t feel inclined.”

Mother wore an expression that seemed to say she had already given up, yet nevertheless let out a deep sigh.

Brother, who had been listening nearby, said in an impressed manner.

“Your tone reeks of childishness, but your refusal cuts clean—quite the accomplishment.”

Toshiko shot her brother a glare.

“Brother, *you* managing to grasp that fact is the real accomplishment.”

Brother laughed, and Mother was left speechless.

“Are you all set for your trip?”

Brother asked.

“Yes，Ms.Yoko has arranged everything for me from train tickets onwards.
On the way back，just like Ms.Yoko did，I’ll bring some dried yamame trout as souvenirs.”

And then Toshiko looked up at the blue sky and the sunlight.