Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Ube Tokichi, the young master of Yamagataya, left for Tokyo to purchase goods and had not returned for two weeks now.
Moreover, all contact had been completely cut off.
Since this was an unprecedented situation, Miyoko, the wife left behind, had already cried her eyes out; Monshichi, her father-in-law, was fuming inside the kotatsu; and the entire neighborhood was abuzz with rumors.

Crossing the temporary bridge over the Azuma River—recently rebuilt where the prefectural road from Jōshū Mihara via bus over Toriitoge Pass had been washed away by floods—led to Kamahara village at the base of Asama Mountain’s lava fields known as Oni no Oshidashi (Devil’s Eruption). Though not widely recognized as a trailhead, the nearby area included so-called tourist spots such as Shikazawa Onsen and Tashiro Lake, making it a place where hiking visitors came and went in considerable numbers each season. Yamagataya was a diner combined with a general store located in front of that bus stop.

Ube Monshichi—who had originally drifted into this area as a peddler—had managed to build up Yamagataya over twenty years, but it remained a shop without a single redeeming quality. He prided himself on having gained some local influence through cunning dealings with mountain folk accustomed to hardship; though not yet fifty, he had entrusted the shop to his adopted son Tokichi and engaged in unlicensed antique trading instead. After securing a wife for Tokichi, he now wandered about enjoying the carefree life of a bachelor who slept wherever night found him.

Now, their son Tokichi was a fatherless child born to a traveling female performer. At age five, he had been taken in by Ube Monshichi and his wife through some twist of fate. After parting early from his adoptive mother through death, he had since been raised solely by his adoptive father, just as the expression "by a single male parent’s hand" suggests.

It wasn’t solely because of this upbringing, but he was renowned as a filial son and remained a dutiful, diligent young man.
He was fair-skinned, with thick eyebrows and a strangely charming mouth; despite his small stature, he possessed strong arms.

His school grades weren’t particularly strong, but he was well-liked by everyone and, instead of becoming the ringleader of the local brats, always received treatment akin to that of an honored guest.
Of course, upon entering adolescence, his popularity with the opposite sex became overwhelming, yet he maintained an almost indifferent equanimity toward it.
This matter added even more luster to his reputation.
However, among them were flippant girls who stubbornly challenged him, lurked in the shadows, and spread indecent rumors too scandalous to ignore—yet he showed not the slightest inclination to pay them any mind.

When the diner became busy, Father Monshichi would ask one or two neighborhood girls to help on a monthly basis.
Moreover, he never asked the same girl twice; different ones came in constant rotation.

Tokichi was simply acquainted with all these girls and made no particular effort to distinguish between them.
They all looked the same.
If spoken to, he would respond, but he never went out of his way to start a conversation himself.
The girls uniformly believed him to be an extremely bashful young man.

However, this spring, his father Monshichi suddenly said to Tokichi:

“Hey, Tokichi! It’s about time you got yourself a wife.”

“I don’t need one.”

“Don’t need it? That ain’t how this works.
I’ve decided to hand over the shop to you.
I’ll get you a wife—you two better make it work proper.”

Tokichi flushed crimson, pursed his lips tautly, averted his gaze elsewhere, and stifled the pounding in his chest.

“Now then, how about it? Once things get settled, sooner’s better than later.”
“If there’s some lass you’ve taken a liking to, go on and say so.”
“There ain’t any such thing.”
“Don’t matter if there is.”
“I told you, there ain’t any.”

“Ain’t that so? Then I’ll pick out one I think suitable by my judgment—that work for you?”

“I’ll do as you say, Father.”

“I see.”
“Then there’s nothing more to discuss.”
“You’ll take Naito’s eldest daughter.”

“The butcher’s?”

“She’s a good-natured girl.”
“Regardless of looks, when it comes to a wife, that’s the sort of woman you’d call ideal.”

The word “ideal” coming from his father’s mouth made Tokichi’s tension ease slightly, and he involuntarily smirked.

“See? You don’t dislike it either, do you?”

But in truth, Miyoko from the butcher shop was utterly unexpected even to him.
Of course, no one would have called her a beauty; in fact, she was one of the girls in the entire village with the most unremarkable features.

Could she have ever laughed?
He could not even recall that.
If you were to speak of someone being inconspicuous, there were scarcely any girls as inconspicuous as she was; when she once came to help at the shop, it was only then that he could finally confirm her presence.
What on earth had his father seen in this girl?
If he had to force an answer, perhaps it was her seemingly patient nature.

The matter progressed swiftly without a hitch.

Bride Miyoko’s attire, showcasing Naito the butcher’s boldness, stood as one of the post-war era’s grand spectacles in this mountain village. The wedding reception was held by specially borrowing the village hall, and the grand feast contributed by both families astonished everyone. The sake, though local, was procured through Monshichi’s connections—he had three eighteen-liter barrels brought in. Needless to say, thick-cut beef steak was served as the main dish.

Thus, on the surface, Yamagataya’s shop became the domain of the young couple, while father Monshichi would occasionally appear from somewhere to fulfill his responsibilities as guardian.

There was not a single sign that could have foreseen any turmoil.

It had been barely half a year since Ube Tokichi, the young master of Yamagataya, went to Tokyo and vanished without a trace.

Two

Father Monshichi stayed at the shop all this time while worrying about his son’s whereabouts.

“Hey Miyoko don’t just keep crying! How ’bout you try sendin’ telegrams t’any leads y’might have?”

“Leads? I ain’t got any clue.”

“At th’candy supplier—there was that house in Kanda where he used t’stay sometimes...”

“Could be he got caught carryin’ rice again?”

“Two-three times woulda just needed written reports.”
“No way they’d drag it out so damn long!”

“Tokyo might’ve gotten interesting.”

“What’s so interesting ’bout a place like that….”
“Where’d he even get money to go gallivantin’ round?”

“He’s got the restockin’ money with ’im.”

“You damn fool.”
“That guy ain’t got the stones for such things.”

“Could be he’s gone an’ hurt hisself somehow?”

“Don’t worry.”
“In that case, they’d check his identity and send word right away…”

The two of them had no recourse but to keep repeating these exchanges.

However, when it came to that point, others boldly ventured various speculations.

A police officer stationed in the village and one of the Public Safety Commissioners were having a standing conversation.

“My gut tells me that guy’s dropped his cash somewhere. He can’t go back even if he wants to—got no spine, see? My bet’s he’s been wandering all over trying to scrape up some cash.”

“How much money do you suppose he had on him?”

“Well, around twenty or thirty thousand yen, I’d say.”

“He can’t keep that hidden from his father.”

“At his age, it’s downright strange he can’t stand up to his old man.”
“He’s no fool, I tell you.”

Meanwhile, in front of the cooperative warehouse serving as a vegetable collection point, four or five young men around the same age were engaged in this sort of conversation.

“Chief – don’t you think he’s been actin’ a bit off lately?”
“Y’know – ever since that time he claims he ran into a bear.”

“Aye,” agreed another voice elsewhere, “the look in his eyes when he told that tale was downright unnatural.”

The story of Ube Tokichi encountering a bear goes like this.

That summer, shortly after their wedding, he was returning home on foot late at night from Mihara after fire brigade business. Intending to take a shortcut, he absentmindedly climbed the new mountain path when a dim silhouette resembling a cow materialized in the twilight ahead. Assuming someone from the frontier settlement must be taking livestock to the vet even at this hour, he approached casually—yet no human figure materialized. The instant he thought This is odd, the creature reared up on hind legs. When recognition struck—Bear!—his gaze froze on those massive paws anchoring the beast. Folklore claimed bears never attack head-on but always retreat when encountering humans—except nursing mothers guarding cubs. He remembered being warned: startle a mother with stationary offspring, and she'll charge without mercy. There they sat—two plump cubs behind their hulking parent, necks craned forward in perfect stillness.

The distance was no more than three ken.
He started running at full speed back along the path he had come.
However, the massive sound of footsteps cutting through the wind and giving chase from behind reached his ears.
He thought it was all over.
But suddenly, what caught his eye was one of the thick Hume pipes lying by the roadside—partially installed for channeling water to the reclaimed farmland—its construction still unfinished.
The pipe was about one and a half ken in length—just enough for his body to fit snugly inside.

“Got it!” he thought, abruptly thrusting his head inside it, contracting his limbs as much as possible, and holding his breath.

However, that alone wasn't enough.
The beast's ferocious snorting, sounding like flames erupting overhead, was followed by the Hume pipe creaking and groaning as it shook violently—then, in an instant, his legs were hoisted upward.
It was nothing more than this:
He was flipped upside down inside the Hume pipe.
He wondered what would happen.
At that moment, a strange association floated into his head—
the way humans pick meat out of crab legs.
He thought the bear was now trying to do just that.

However, the bear lacked that wisdom.
As if to say, "Ugh, what a hassle," it seemingly knocked over the Hume pipe just like that.
On one side of the road was a steep slope descending all the way to terraced mulberry fields at the valley bottom.
The Hume pipe tumbled down, struck several mulberry stumps, and vanished into the darkness.

Ube Tokichi arrived home two hours later.
There, he finally realized he had narrowly escaped death and first recounted the story to his wife Miyoko.

The rumor quickly spread throughout the hamlet, and people gathered at his house to hear the detailed story.

It was not precisely a heroic tale worth boasting about, but for those who knew his ordinary self, this remained undeniably a peculiar anecdote.

A certain friend linked this behavior to his philosophy of peaceful non-resistance.

However, another middle-aged man of common sense snorted derisively at this story, deeming it somewhat of a tall tale.

Ube Tokichi was not the kind of man to fabricate stories in a plausible manner.
For this very reason, among those who heard the tale directly from him, there must have been some who did not overlook the traces of a touch of abnormal excitement lingering in Ube Tokichi's eyes and voice.

III

Be that as it may, at the elementary school’s branch schoolhouse too, several teachers similarly engaged in various discussions about Ube Tokichi’s disappearance and exchanged their own opinions.

They never managed to reach a conclusion. But for Ube Tokichi—who had been childhood friends with him and had only completed elementary school himself—a certain teacher served as his sole intellectual guide and ideological mentor. This normal school graduate posed this question with grave seriousness.

“There’s something that just doesn’t sit right with me. It happened just the other day—we were talking, and out of nowhere he brings this up: ‘What do you think of the Communist Party?’ he asks.”
“I gave him my honest opinion.”
“As you know, I’m a socialist.”
“From that standpoint, I delivered a whole critique of communism.”
“Then he says, ‘What I want to know isn’t about ideology.’”
“‘It’s about the Party itself,’ he insists.”
“Apparently some district cell from Nagano way had approached him about joining.”
“I’ve got a fair idea who it might’ve been.”
“Must’ve said something clever.”
“That fellow was quite moved by it all.”
“Said it was his first time ever taking an interest in politics.”
“Pure-hearted soul that he is.”
“Now, I don’t mean to oppose him joining...”
“But just to be safe, I pressed him—‘Do you approve of violent revolution or not?’”
“His reply was so typical!”
“‘I absolutely detest violence.’”
“‘So wouldn’t it be better,’ says he, ‘to pack parliament with as many party members as possible instead?’”
“I laughed and told him, ‘Ah~, if you can manage that through your own power, go ahead and try.’”

“But gentlemen, I believe it’s futile to speculate about Ube Tokichi’s recent actions while excluding this issue—what do you think?”

The group, looking surprised by the unexpected turn of events, remained silent—not a single person interjected.

“However, gentlemen, let’s keep this matter between us here. I do feel somewhat responsible.”

And with that, the teacher furrowed his brow and sank into thought again.

Even amidst this, the local policeman—trying to be helpful—repeatedly appeared at Yamagataya and suggested to father Monshichi that they ought to file a missing person report. But Monshichi refused, saying, “No—that’d look bad for our reputation,” and finally declared he would go to Tokyo himself to search. He took out the suit he had long stored away, fretting over its moth-eaten spots, then boarded the bus bound for Mihara.
He bore a look of grim resolve.

When Miyoko found herself alone, she could sink into quiet contemplation at the shopfront.

Autumn was drawing to a close, and a thin layer of snow had settled on the peak of Asama.
The number of traveling customers had also thinned out.
This year, the frost came earlier than usual, and there were more windy days.

Her husband Tokichi seemed like an exceptionally kind husband.

In any situation, he had never been spoken to harshly, and no matter what was said, he would listen well, nodding along.
And yet, there was an indefinable robustness about him—to think that this was the kind of man she could rely on—there were times she felt like indulging in complete dependence from the bottom of her heart.
However, there remained a frustrating uncertainty for her: she couldn’t quite gauge how much affection she should openly show or how familiarly she ought to act.
That she wanted this clarity to come from him rather than from herself was, if it was dissatisfaction at all, indeed its source.
However, this was nothing short of extravagance—her upbringing at her parents' home had clearly taught her as much.

Now that she thought of it, though he wasn’t her husband, her father-in-law Monshichi had been full of demands toward her. As a bride serving her father-in-law, she believed she had the basic knowledge required, but less than a month after settling in, he was already demanding the full qualifications of a housewife.

The fact that they didn’t meet face-to-face every day was her only saving grace. However, every few days without fail, he would show up unexpectedly and immediately launch into a barrage of complaints. By his second sentence—"Do you think that’s enough to fulfill your role as a daughter-in-law?"—it would begin. She wanted to retort—"I could manage just fine"—so fiercely it ached.

When it came to minor details—how she cleaned, where she placed things, how to cook rice, how to chop vegetables, the seasoning of soup—and then if he spotted her wearing lipstick on a whim, he would immediately comment on that too. He proved especially strict about customer interactions at the shop—finding fault with every little thing: that her responses needed more warmth, that she’d forgotten to say "thank you," and so forth. What galled her most was this unsolicited interference regarding her supposed lack of attentiveness toward her husband—later, when she secretly confided in him and asked if he truly felt the same way, he told her there was no need to mind Father’s nagging ways. Though this finally brought relief, the humiliation of being criticized so bluntly even in her husband’s presence remained beyond any possibility of redress.

At such times, if her husband showed even a hint of displeasure, her father-in-law would act completely unperturbed—"I only speak these harsh words for your sake."
"If a husband and wife start airing their grievances to each other, that’s the end of it."
"When parents have a son who takes a bride, they’ve got to look after two people now, haven’t they?"
"It’s precisely because I know—through my own experience—how you two can get along best that I step in and worry more than anyone else."
"There’s no way you could understand that yet."
With these words, he skillfully dodged the issue.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand her father-in-law’s words—but as a wife, she wanted to discover things herself, devise solutions herself, and grow herself, without anyone telling her how. Wasn’t her husband the only one who would support those efforts from beside her?

She thought this way. Moreover, first and foremost, her father-in-law’s nagging did not stem from the magnanimous feelings he himself claimed—and seeing how he would grow oddly emotional or unnecessarily insult people, it was by no means something she should feel indebted for. What was most disheartening was how, as those nagging complaints piled up, she gradually began to lose confidence. It was a terrifying thing, but this much, at least, could not be helped.

IV

Yamagataya’s young master Ube Tokichi had completely spent his 45,000 yen over these two weeks and now stood dejectedly before the bear cage at Ueno Zoo.

This afternoon, he absolutely had to scrape together five thousand yen and go to Café White Lily waitress Kaoruko.
Okachimachi lay right before his eyes.
Yet between here and there, no five thousand yen would magically materialize.
If I could peel off this bear’s hide right now, I’d do it without hesitation.
How he resented that pachinko—that heart-racing game that had devoured his money.

Resigning himself to abandoning any notion of skinning the bear, he gazed at the dear creature's face while wondering whether some clever scheme might yet come to him.
When he recalled Kaoruko's bashfully charming figure from their intimate moments and that cloyingly sweet scent of her skin, he could only lament how belatedly he'd realized his happiness lay not in those mountain thoroughfares but at the very heart of this sprawling metropolis called Tokyo.

The previous October when visiting Tokyo—having been invited by a young supplier and casually stepping into a café—he now found himself inclined to casually revisit that same establishment alone on his next opportunity.
Naturally, this impulse stemmed from how persistently the face of that waitress—the one who'd first brought him beer and lingered at his table—had imprinted itself upon his mind.
During his second visit, he learned her name, shared fragments of his own story, and timidly inquired about her hometown.
To his astonishment, it turned out to be Yamagata.
Overcome with delight that nearly made him dance on the spot, he claimed—though knowing nothing of the sort—that his own shop bore the name Yamagataya and that his parents too hailed from Yamagata.

“Oh, really… Then that means you and I are from the same hometown, Big brother.”
“I’m just… so happy.”
“Well, that’s right.”

In this manner, he raised a cup to the beauty from his supposed hometown, promised to meet again, and parted ways.

Returning home, he could not bring himself to look directly at his wife Miyoko’s face.
Already he harbored a lingering shadow of guilt within him, and his wife’s form appeared withered—devoid of flavor or allure.

"This won’t do," he thought.
However, his change was also his wife’s change.
Why had things come to this? He himself didn’t understand.
At this point, there was no longer any need to compare his wife Miyoko with that Kaoruko.
If this one was a Hirakuchi fruit that stung the lips, that one was a juicy peach melting on the tongue.

If this is what they call the temptations of the city, then so be it.
Why not let myself drown in that temptation just once?
There is nothing to fear.
I don’t believe ruin creeps up in some unpredictable way.
I intend to have enough self-control to stop myself one step before.

In mid-November, he left home as usual under the pretext of business. He did not forget to put every last yen he possessed into his coat.

Upon arriving in Tokyo, he went straight to open Café White Lily’s door and scan the interior. Kaoruko welcomed him in with glistening eyes. Happiness had been waiting for him. What manner of happiness was this?

It only became clear when they managed to carve out a time and place for themselves alone—a happiness that numbed his skull and left his feet hovering mid-air. He no longer remembered what gifts he’d bought her, what sights they’d shared, or where they’d walked hand-in-hand. The sole memory remaining was her earnest entreaty: she absolutely needed five thousand yen by five o’clock that afternoon.

He thought he could manage somehow.
There were long-standing business relationships with his suppliers.
He had believed that five or even ten thousand yen could be procured immediately.
Yet when he tried that morning, every attempt ended in failure.
The cause was an acute cash shortage.
Though it felt like whining unbecoming of a wholesaler, he couldn't borrow what they wouldn't lend.
He considered selling his wristwatch.
But with its broken mainspring, the buyer sniffed out his desperation.
Even converting it to a thousand yen would solve nothing.
Adrift, he wandered into the zoo.
This too was something he had no plan for addressing.
Perhaps he'd unconsciously preferred this to facing human countenances.

Once he resigned himself to the fact that theft was his only option, he felt somewhat relieved.

No matter how much she trusted and expected of him, surely she wouldn’t tell him to resort to theft.
He should clearly explain all the circumstances to her.
And he would ask her to wait two or three days.
He would go home and consult Father—tell him he had borrowed about five thousand yen from suppliers.

He dragged his heavy legs and entered Café White Lily.

“I’m sorry, but it’s just impossible today.”
“Can’t you wait two or three days?”
“Once I get home, I’ll send it immediately by telegraphic transfer.”

he said apologetically.

“Oh? Only five thousand yen.”
“You’ve really lost it.”

Her tone now bore no resemblance to what it had been before.
He flinched as if he’d seen a demon’s true form.

“It’s just five thousand yen, you say, but after all, I’m traveling…”

“Enough, enough…”

He stood dumbfounded by her fierce demeanor, his mouth hanging open as he stared at her face.

“Thanks to you, I was humiliated.”
“So today, I suppose you don’t even have money to spend here anymore.”
“Come back when you’ve got your act together.”

With those words, she abruptly stood up from her seat.

5

Finally managing to scrape together just enough for his return travel expenses, Ube Tokichi returned to his home in Jōshū.

This sudden return home made his wife Miyoko cry tears of joy and left the villagers flabbergasted.

No matter who asked him about it, he would just laugh and never give a proper answer.
However, toward his wife Miyoko,

"I was wrong, ah... Forgive me.
"I ended up fooling around in Tokyo.
"I nearly got tangled up with a woman."

he confessed.

“I thought it might be something like that. But you really decided to come home after all.”

Miyoko said—not with sarcasm but in a trembling voice steeped in gratitude.

"That’s how it goes."
"You’re here."

This too was not a lie.
Ube Suekichi felt like spitting on the remnants of his nightmare while aboard the train.
And now, recalling his wife’s refreshing impression from their wedding night—that emotion she had shown him through sparse words and a sign of love brimming with shyness so intense it seemed to vanish—he found it mystifying even to himself why he had forgotten it.

As a husband, what was likely their first maddening embrace was given to his wife Miyoko that day.

“Father has gone to Tokyo to look for you, but…”

“Huh, where’s he planning to look?”

He muttered as if to himself while letting his gaze fall upon his wife’s trembling eyelashes.

And then, on the third day, when his father Monshichi restlessly stepped over the shop’s threshold and entered, Ube Tokichi calmly called out from the back office.

“We must have missed each other.
I’ve been back for ages.”

The father peered into the back with a stern expression.
And when he saw his son sitting there cross-legged with perfect composure,

“You idiot! Where the hell have you been wandering around all this time?!”

“Were you worried?”

“What? Was I worried?”
“You spineless fool!”
“You went and left home without a word for ten or twenty days, and now you have the gall to talk like that?”
“Act like a parent deserves and show some respect!”

Father Monshichi roughly sat down on the threshold step and glared fixedly at his son's face.

“Ah, if that’s your wish, I’ll give you your proper greeting.”
“From today onward, I’ll have you sever our parent-child bond.”

“Wh-wh-what did you say?”

Slightly flustered, Monshichi, his father, found his tongue tangling.

“It’s simple—as of today, I’m no longer your son.”

Overwhelmed by Tokichi’s coldly dismissive tone, his father Monshichi grew somewhat subdued,

“Then why’d you do it?
“Give me a reason, a reason…”

“Because of you, I nearly did something awful.
“Came this close to abandoning my wife... this blameless wife.”

“That... I still don’t get it...”

“Don’t you get it? Listen here—who was it that kept harping on Miyoko’s faults and made me sick of her? I was a fool—a complete fool. Anyway, I realized that Miyoko here is a wife without a single flaw. She doesn’t utter a single word of complaint. That’s all.”

“Hmph… Had to come to this, huh… What a heartwarming tale, ain’t it? So it’s finally turned out exactly as I wished.”

“Stop abandonin’ things.
I’m serious.”

“I’m serious too. Once I see that’s settled, there ain’t nothin’ left for me to linger on in this house.
Well now, cherish your wife proper from here on out. You’ve had yourself quite the rough spell these past days, huh.”

With those words, Father Monshichi—like he’d swallowed down every last thing—looked all around the store one final time, then stepped slow and slump-shouldered out onto the frost-thawed street.