Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Yoshie Hamura and Atsuko Sahara were both typists working in the Document Section of a government office; they first spoke to each other on the day of their employment exam, congratulated one another on their success when they finally began appearing at the office, and had now spent three full years working side by side at adjoining desks.

Yoshie was born in Asahikawa, Hokkaido, where her father managed a fairly large-scale farm cultivating apples and pyrethrum. When she completed her education at an old-system girls' school, he permitted her to move to Tokyo and pursue her own path.
Initially, she had intended to pursue music, but due to her family’s sudden financial decline, she resolutely abandoned her musical studies and resolved to learn typing to support herself.
She was fair-skinned and firm-bodied, fast-talking with a dialect that sometimes made her speech hard to catch, yet possessed a bright, lively voice.

On the other hand, Atsuko Sahara was a college graduate who unabashedly claimed to be the illegitimate child of a certain famous actor—a free-spirited girl who would even correct office officials’ English pronunciations when the mood struck her, yet never refused any request and would go anywhere with anyone if invited. That she had never gained notoriety was not necessarily because her looks were too striking or too plain, but rather because she oddly exuded a bossy demeanor that somehow inspired trust precisely in that regard.

As for their ages, Yoshie had turned twenty-five this past March, while Atsuko had only just turned twenty-three this November.
So marked was this disparity that anyone might have thought their ages reversed—Yoshie appearing youthful where Atsuko carried herself with an older air.
This contrast extended to their temperaments and preferences as well; these two would often stroll side by side, coax each other up to the rooftop, and share laughter in perfect accord—only to abruptly ignite into debates fierce enough to spray spittle from their lips' corners.
The aftermath would see them maintain two days of silence before, on the third day, one would type phrases like "Proposing unconditional peace" or "How tedious" onto a paper scrap and flick it onto the other's desk.

Given such a relationship, though they did confide in each other to a considerable extent—sharing candid stories or exchanging veiled words about their anxieties for the future—this was not born of complete mutual trust. Rather, they believed it was precisely through such topics that they could most elegantly demonstrate what they prided themselves on: their education and wit, in a manner befitting women.

For instance, when Atsuko would critique a marriage proposal from some quarter based on her own position, then subtly seek the other’s opinion.
Yoshie would first attempt pointed questions in response, offer seemingly sincere yet inoffensive impressions, and then divert the issue altogether by questioning what marital happiness even was.
But in truth, it was precisely these general discussions where she poured her erudition—the entirety of knowledge she had acquired through reading over several past years became concentrated there.

Then again, for example, Yoshie would take a certain friend as an example regarding the value of chastity, present concrete facts of their distress, and then demand a verdict.
As for how Atsuko responded to this—rather than claiming she herself had experienced such a problem, she instead linked such distress to secular moral arguments and ridiculed the foolishness of becoming slaves to convention.
And with a straight face, she would go so far as to declare that if she were ever placed in such circumstances, she would prove herself free from guilt by repeating the act—all to maintain appearances.

They were, in truth, gradually growing anxious as they reflected on their own situations—already approaching what is called the passing of marriageable age. However, they intended not to show even the slightest hint of such feelings to each other. Yoshie employed her foundational skepticism toward marriage, while Atsuko—citing modern men’s lack of common sense—affected an air of indifference toward the unnaturalness and constraints of singlehood, advocating only for romantic freedom and her own independence as a precaution against contingencies.

Their opinions were indeed aligned on that point, but when it came to love itself—the actual object of affection—both kept their lips sealed.
They never flatly denied its existence nor ever spoke words that might hint at what sort of person such an object could be.
Their mutual curiosity had sought tirelessly to ascertain each other’s truth—yet even today neither had met with success.

“You’re in an unusual hurry to leave today, aren’t you? Do you have plans with someone?”

“Yeah, I promised to take my brother to the theater.”

“A college student who looks like your brother, I suppose?”

“You shouldn’t say such vulgar things.”

Conversations like these would sometimes be exchanged midway down the stairs at closing time.

Just when one thought that,

“Hey, did you see Mr. Abe’s tie? Weird, isn’t it? The face men make on the day they wear a new tie…”

“Huh, I didn’t notice. You’re the one bringing up Mr. Abe—this is the third time this week. If you mention him again, people will get suspicious.”

“Aren’t you being noisy?”
“With all due respect, our ways of taking interest differ. But really, at our age, shouldn’t we be past hiding our appraisals of men? Between us…”

The frequency of these exchanges—where either could have said anything—gradually increased until not only the men in their office but everyone from the chief of the neighboring accounting section down to the office attendants had all been graced with the honor of having their names listed on the two women’s evaluation roster.

II

Now, one day—the first truly spring-like, pleasantly clear day in March—during their lunch break after finishing their lunchboxes, the two of them ventured up to the rooftop for the first time in a while.

With the two office attendants playing catch in their peripheral vision, they walked toward the parapet overlooking Hibiya Park, cloaked in greenery. Instead of having a place to sit, they could converse with some composure by leaning both elbows on the thick parapet.

“What do you think of the new Minister?”

Atsuko Sahara said suddenly.

“What do I think? It doesn’t particularly spark any interest in me.”
“From what I’ve seen, he just seems uncouth and dim-witted, don’t you think?”

“The way he puts on that childish act of authority is ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“Because he puts on such a childish, bossy act—isn’t it absurd?”

“The previous one was different in that regard.”
“There was something scholarly about him.”

Yoshie Hamura said.

“I hate that sort of thing too.”
“You should laugh more when something’s ridiculous…”

Atsuko Sahara declared.

The Minister seemed slightly outmatched, so they turned their criticism to the secretary.
The secretary frequently appeared in the Document Section.

“Have you ever spoken with Secretary Yuki?”

Atsuko Sahara asked Yoshie.

“It’s not like I haven’t.”
“Why?”

“I’ve spoken to him once or twice myself, but doesn’t he use rather polite language?”

“Is that so?”

Yoshie turned her face away, appearing rather uninterested.

“‘Is that so?’ Well, isn’t that how it seems to you? I hear he’s a Gakushuin graduate, you know.”

“What does that even matter?”
“What could that upstart possibly accomplish?”

“Oh, even an upstart shouldn’t be underestimated.”
“I hear he’s even passed the diplomat exam.”

“Where do you hear such things…?”
“Then this isn’t even his field, is it?”

“So you see, it was by the Minister’s discernment that he was deemed necessary.”

“Hmm, a young gentleman right up your alley, huh?”

“You’ve got it backwards.”
“Isn’t he exactly the type you’re always admiring…”

Atsuko fired back.
Then, Yoshie slightly furrowed her brows,

“Cut out the jokes.”
“What’s so good about that type anyway?”
“Modern young men’s etiquette isn’t that formalistic.”
“What’s so—‘I stand corrected,’ huh!”

Atsuko laughed at Yoshie’s defensiveness,

“Oh? You know about that?”
“It’s fine—if those who should stand corrected do so…”
“But really—when on earth did you end up saying such a thing?”

Atsuko’s eyes, spitefully probing, shone unnaturally bright.

“But that’s what people say when things happen, isn’t it?”
“If you’d listen to someone talking with the section chief, you’d know.”
“You’re being strangely meddlesome again.”
“What does it matter if I spoke with Yuki?”
“Absurd person…”

Yoshie bit her lip in frustration.

Atsuko, unperturbed by this,

“You’re the one who’s acting strange.”
“I’m just saying I’ve got no business with some store-window boy.”

“Even I can’t stand someone as saccharine-sweet as that.”

“I get it already. There’s no need to get so worked up about it.”

“Well, it’s because the way you’re talking is so weird.”
“Stop teasing people already.”

“Alright—since we’re both in agreement now, there’s no need to hold back anymore.”
“As an aside, let’s tear Secretary Yuki to shreds.”
“I think I’ve interacted with that person a bit more than you have.”

With that, Atsuko glanced briefly at Yoshie.

“That might be the case.”
“Since you’re so skilled at reading, that must be why you have more business there.”

“As for that person’s pronunciation, it’s not proper at all.”
“He’s actually proud of that himself!”

“Honestly, doesn’t he use too much English or French even when talking about ordinary things…?”

Yoshie said exactly as she felt.

“To us, that seems especially true.”
“And what’s strange is that his economic sense is so different from the norm.”

“Oh? In what way?”

“I can’t quite put it into words, but his magnanimity and stinginess are jumbled together without any balance.”

Atsuko also stated exactly as she had observed.

"It’s the same way humility can come off as arrogance."
"It’s because of his upbringing."

"You’ve been watching closely."
"That’s exactly right."
"He seems feverish yet somehow cold, and for all his surprising attentiveness, he’s utterly selfish, wouldn’t you say?"

While Yoshie agreed with Atsuko’s argument, she harbored significant doubts—how had this woman perceived his character to such an extent, and on what occasion had he demonstrated it to her?—even as she...

“That might be the case.”
“But if that were all, it might even give him some charm as a man—though for someone like me, rather than those aspects, it’s his utterly obvious pretentiousness that I can’t help but notice.”
“Because he immediately provokes such resistance, that’s the end of it!”

“That’s exactly it. He makes you feel repelled, but still, since I think he’s a fascinating specimen of a man to observe, I’m just tolerating him.”

“I don’t want any personal entanglement, even if begged.”

Yoshie declared flatly.

“Even if you call it a personal relationship, it’s just casually having tea.”
“If it’s just something that trivial, I wouldn’t be picky about who it’s with.”

Atsuko had the privilege of being able to say that naturally.

“You might be like that, but first of all, isn’t that man a bit of a Don Juan type? His attitude toward girls—just look at it. And on top of that, it’s become so tacky that it’s unbearable.”

Yoshie said this as if she wanted to spit.

Atsuko, for her part, widened her eyes slightly at Yoshie’s declaration. But knowing inherently that when women label a man as a Don Juan type, it doesn’t necessarily carry purely negative connotations, she wrapped her widened gaze in keen interest and spoke.

“Oh, don’t say that. Any man wouldn’t appear as a Don Juan to just anyone…”

“Is that supposed to be a defense?”
“There’s no room for defense whatsoever.”
“Disgusting. That expression of his…”

“Well, that may not be strictly religious, but must a person’s upper body and lower body really remain separate entities?”

“That’s beneath consideration. Anyway, it’s just rumor, but they say that man’s notorious for preying on married women.”

“A married women predator? Ah, I see. He’d stoop to that level. Though the ones getting preyed upon deserve it too. And you—have you heard? How many typists has he supposedly tried to seduce so far?”

At Atsuko’s remark, Yoshie was caught off guard—
“How awful—such scandalous talk…”
“Aren’t you a disgrace to our colleagues?”

“But that’s actually true.”
“I don’t know about this government office, but where he’s worked before, there were probably two or three victims.”
“A friend of mine working at the House of Councillors told me that.”

Yoshie suddenly doubled over laughing.

"So that's it."
"You'd better watch out."
"You're being targeted."
"Well, this is getting interesting."

As Yoshie delivered these lines through laughter, Atsuko - herself still chuckling - retorted:

"Oh, was my choice of partner that poor?"
"I'll report back with results soon enough."

Then the two women slowly made their way downstairs.

III

And then, several days passed.

Saturday night was eagerly awaited by Yoshie Hamura.
She stood at the entrance of a modest, old-fashioned inn nestled in the thick woods deep in Meguro, precisely at nine o’clock.
This was the second time she had come here alone.
Her chest tightened painfully as if being squeezed, her heart pounding fiercely.

She was shown to the tatami room.
It was not the same tatami room as before, but a stylish eight-tatami one adjoining the next chamber.

The sound of a car eventually stopped outside.

Minister’s Secretary Shigeo Yuki entered lumberingly as usual, smiling only with his eyes.
Tonight too he appeared slightly drunk.

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes.”
“But what about you?”

“I could eat some chazuke if I had to, but whatever.”
“Shall I get some fruit or something?”

Apples and pears whose flavor had faded were brought in.

“With banquets piling up like this, I can’t endure it.”
“Moreover, the Minister is leaving for Kansai on tomorrow’s night train.”
“There’s no insight or anything to it at all.”

With that, Shigeo Yuki furrowed his thick eyebrows.

“I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

Yoshie twisted her body slightly and said in a low, coquettish voice.

“Heh heh heh.
“I’m not that old yet.
“By the way, I suppose no one has noticed yet?
“Somehow, I can’t help feeling a bit uneasy.”

Because Yuki always said that, Yoshie had no energy left to insist everything was fine.

"Why do I think that? Well... you see, these things just click together from various details."
"It's not that I distrust you, but if you'd clear up one doubt for me—I'm certain it's nobody but you—have you ever gossiped about me with someone at the office?"

When asked this, Yoshie flinched.
“Yes, that might be a little true… But that person—is she a woman?”

“To be frank, that’s correct? You must understand. Moreover, you gave the other party the impression that you know me in considerable detail.”

“Well, how should I put it… It’s not like there’s anything specific…”

“No, no—there’s no need to hide it. I’m not making an issue of what you’ve been talking about. The truth is, if you know too much about me, it only causes problems. Isn’t that right? Since there’s no way you should know… officially…”

“But since I don’t know any more than that woman does, I don’t think it matters.”

Yoshie said with a touch of resentment, her words ambiguous enough to be taken any which way.

“However, that’s not the case.”
“That woman didn’t explicitly mention your name, of course, but she tells a story about having a colleague who’s been making astonishing observations about me.”
“And whether she’s serious or not, I don’t know—but she teases me relentlessly.”
“She claims she had to listen to me prattle on about my love life.”

“That’s a lie! That’s a lie!”

Yoshie, unable to bear it any longer, shouted.

Shigeo Yuki raised his hand as if to suppress that voice.

“Now, now, listen here. What words they chose to interpret as love talk is their prerogative, but it seems to be a fact that some rather harsh criticism was mixed in there.”

With that, Yuki smirked in an unpleasant manner.

“But that’s only because the other party brought it up first. Because I thought it would seem strange if I didn’t go along with it.”

“I do think that’s exactly right.”
“But was it truly just striking the chime of agreement?”
“If we let the other side speak their piece, didn’t you rather zealously delineate my particular traits?”

“My, what a pack of lies you’re spouting.”
“That aside, what reason would that person have to gossip with you like that?”

“That’s just how the conversation flowed.”
“It’s nothing but tea-time chatter.”
“Since she’s such an amusing woman, I naturally fall into speaking familiarly with her.”
“And once she gets carried away, she’ll prattle on about absolutely everything.”

“What exactly she’s been saying—I’d like to hear that first.”

“Well, I don’t remember every detail, but apparently you called me a sweet melon…”

“No, no! That’s because that person called you a mannequin boy. My goodness, how awful…”

“And then, you apparently called me a Don Juan and a wife-stealer or something of the sort.”

“Well, but that’s…”

“Fine, fine… I don’t mind such things.”
“I understand why it came to that without needing explanations.”
“You thought if you trashed me thoroughly enough, the other party wouldn’t notice our relationship, didn’t you?”
“I grasp the intent.”
“I only wish you’d thrown more haphazard, misguided insults.”
“Aren’t you probing a bit too keenly?”

“Oh, but I don’t think of you that way at all…”

“Is that true?”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
“However, what is that woman saying about me?”
“Just ‘mannequin boy’?”

What intention lay behind his desire to ask such things—Yoshie couldn’t quite fathom it.

“I don’t think it’s necessary for me to say it myself. As for why the other party would speak of me in such a way—you must understand that, don’t you?”

“Well, I understand. That I understand, but regarding your reluctance to tell me what that woman said—would it be incorrect of me to attribute it to your modesty?”

“Take it however you will—I don’t mind.”
“That aside, what do you think of that person?”
“Could you try telling me honestly—not viewing her as my friend, but impartially—what kind of person you think she is?”

“Impartially speaking, as I mentioned earlier, I think she’s an interesting woman.”
“By ‘interesting,’ I mean she’s suitable as a friend, suitable as a lover, suitable as a wife… I just have doubts about long-term prospects.”
“That’s why I chose you.”
“To be candid, I currently have a fiancée who holds no interest for me, but I can’t very well avoid making her my wife eventually.”
“Unless some unforeseen incident occurs beforehand that allows dissolving the engagement—that would change matters.”
“Under these circumstances, I was seeking a woman I could genuinely come to love.”
“When you and she appeared before me, I spent some time comparing you both.”
“And settled on you.”

“I didn’t intend to ask about that.”
“Just tell me more about that person.”

“That’s all.”
“It simply comes down to the word ‘interesting.’”
“She isn’t as intelligent as you, but has ordinary common sense; she isn’t as guileless as you, but makes up for it with a different sort of sharp wit and flamboyant gestures.”
“And I like how her repartee never falters.”

“She’s quite the socialite.”

“Hmm, in the positive sense.”
“She’s one of those rare women—unaffected, truly understanding how to delight people.”

“This is getting to me.”

“But if that woman amuses many men, you might be the sort who genuinely pleases the single man you choose.”

“How polished.”

“That person’s eyes are uniquely beautiful, but they aren’t as calmly clear as yours.”
“They’re always turbulent.”
“And they don’t let the other person settle.”

“What terrifying eyes.”

“You could certainly say that.”
“Are you truly that close with her?”

“Well, we’re on good terms.”
“But I feel uncertain about how things might develop from now on.”
“Hearing your words today has made me reconsider matters.”

“Why…?”
“That woman must have talked about you in various ways and tried to ferret something out.”
“That too—ultimately, I’d say the result was futile, you know.”

“Did you also speak ill of me?”

“I’m not that simple. For one thing, during those times, I pretended not to realize it was you.”

“Yes… yes, that’s right…. I’m simple. To think I’ve convinced myself I mustn’t accept praise…”

While saying this, she directed her gaze at Shigeo Yuki’s profile and found herself impressed—this man was indeed not simple, yet his lack of overt complexity struck her as thoroughly sophisticated.

Because not only did he refrain from needlessly disparaging Atsuko Sahara, but he had actually praised her quite appropriately. Here, no matter how much a woman might try to nurture suspicions, there was simply no space to do so. Though it rankled slightly, she found herself feeling happier than if he hadn’t shown such considerate gestures to offset it at all.

Wait, wait! She couldn’t deny that even praise carried a faint odor of suspicion. But having only fleetingly sensed this deep in her heart, she reconsidered—compared to the definitive stench of insults, praise still seemed preferable, merely hinting at a lighter, unresolved danger.

A bewildering dream was thus bestowed upon the two of them as lovers.