Pathway to Japanese Literature

Mitsugu Oosato

Makiko Oosato

Yorie Takao

Toshio Nishihara

In the suburbs of Tokyo.

Mid-January, 5 PM—

Act I

The reception room of Mitsugu Oosato’s house—a kerosene stove—dull-colored wallpaper—furniture with rigid lines—through the wide glass door at the front, parts of the greenhouse, glasshouse, frame, and flower bed could be seen.

Near the glass door，Yorie Takao—who appeared to be twenty-five or twenty-six—gazed fixedly outside.
Smart Western-style attire.
——Pause——

Makiko Oosato—an unremarkable woman around twenty-eight or twenty-nine—appeared hurrying in.

“I’m terribly sorry to have kept you waiting.
Since Brother didn’t tell me anything about it, I ended up getting all flustered…”
(Both sat down.) “Brother will be Brother, and I will be myself.
He doesn’t let me help with a single thing, you see.
And I too have been taking advantage of that situation, doing nothing but selfish things.
But... so in times like these, it’s quite troublesome.
But being away from home is such a rare occurrence for us.
That’s right—since we secluded ourselves here, today is practically the first time we’ve gone out to Tokyo or such…”

YORIE: “Your health has completely recovered now, hasn’t it?”

Makiko: “I do think that’s likely… but since then, I haven’t caught even a single cold… With this complexion of mine, I must be perfectly fine.”

Yorie: “I truly can’t believe you were ill for so long at all. But still, you managed to…”

Makiko: “Yes, this too can’t be helped.—Though saying it that way makes me sound terribly enlightened, as you know, we’re quite unusually without any relatives to speak of. Ever since we were old enough to understand things, it’s just been Brother and me growing up together, so living our whole lives taking care of each other like this doesn’t seem all that unnatural to me.” (Pause) “Well… if only Brother would show some willingness, I could entrust his care to ‘that person’ and go out into the world or do something else—though that’s precisely why I made sure to learn all those practical skills. Who knows when they’ll ever be of use…”

“Yorie... I heard you even worked with a typewriter…”

“I only handled Japanese typing on it,” replied Makiko Oosato, “but I did properly learn shorthand too...”
“Moreover—we met once in Kanda before this, didn’t we? Back then I was operating a sewing machine.”

“That’s right,” said Yorie Takao.
“It must have been four or five years since then...”
“You were commuting from Zushi at that time?”

“Yes.”
“When Brother’s condition was still severe.”
“We had a daytime nurse staying with us then...”
(Pause)
“Though I was still young enough back then.”

(Silence)

YORIE: “But how strange it is to meet you in a place like this...”
YORIE: “When I saw the nameplate—Mitsugu Oosato... I did think it sounded familiar.”
YORIE: “I pass by every day.”
YORIE: “Had I known he was your Brother...”
YORIE: “Still—there was no telling whether you’d be here together...”
YORIE: “If we hadn’t met at the station yesterday—why—I might still be walking past that house unknowing even now!”

“When you look at me... what do you think...?”
(Pause) A woman too would come to ruin living this sort of life.
(Pause) Now that you mention it... how should I put this... to what sort of person’s place are you...

“I… live alone.”
“Please… Don’t look at me like that…”

Makiko: “But……”

Yorie: “You mean to say that can’t be true, don’t you?”
“Yes—you already know about that, don’t you?”
“When I graduated from school, I did go there properly at first, but soon left.”
“Or perhaps I was made to leave.”
“Ever since then, I’ve been working like this.”

Makiko: “You’ve been working...”
“I haven’t yet heard that story.”

Yorie: “You know the cosmetics shop in Ginza called Piriette—the one run by a French person?”
“I work at that shop.”

Makiko: “Oh!”

Yorie: “Mother and I manage quite well.”
“At least we don’t have to burden any man.”

Makiko: “Truly…”

“That aside, Brother’s business here seems quite interesting.”
“It’s splendid that it’s thriving.”

“But this so-called business is really just a hobby in name only.”
“So even if we tolerate its lack of popularity—given how fundamentally unsociable he must be—once customers visit once, they generally never return.”
“(Pause) Though when there are customers like you, that does bring us joy.”
“No—you see—it’s because we have no social connections whatsoever.”
“Though I don’t say it aloud, he must feel lonely.”
“Not one friend from our school days has visited since we moved here; and as I’ve always been withdrawn by nature, I scarcely engage with neighbors either...”
“(Pause) Besides, there must be many things we could discuss.”
“Truly—you must come visit us sometimes.”
“Even daily visits would be most welcome.”
“You could stay at your leisure tonight.”
“He’ll return soon.”

Yorie: “Well, thank you.”
“Though I only met him briefly yesterday, I somehow felt he was someone I could grow close to.”
“How strange—even so, I found myself recalling various things from the past.”
“And after all, someone who grows plants like that must be breathing in harmony with nature somehow.”
“I look forward to being able to chat now and then from here on out.”

Makiko: "How strange that he doesn't remember anything at all, you know. Brother may appear that way, but during his school days he studied law and dabbled in literature. Though he disliked law from the very beginning—and as for literature, claiming it complicates things—he sold off every book he'd collected, you see. But it seems he still occasionally composes songs and such."

Yorie: "As for someone like me—even if I wanted to read books, I simply don't have the time, you see."

A long silence.

(At this moment, through the glass door, Mitsugu Oosato could be seen inspecting the Furem.)

YORIE: (noticing Mitsugu’s presence) “It seems Brother has returned.”
“I wonder if I should take my leave…”

MAKIKO: (turning to look outside) “Oh, when did he…”
(Standing up, approaching the glass door, and opening it slightly) “Brother, have you already returned?”

MITSUGU: (still bent over) “Did someone come?”

Makiko: “From the florist in front of the school—the usual person came and said they’d share some tulip bulbs.”
“Since they didn’t understand, I told them to come back tonight.”
“Then that old gentleman who came once last year—you know, the one wearing what looked like a Russian-style hat—he came again. Oh! And he had that fellow with him—remember? That driver-like man who spoke insolently and made you angry that time...”

“What of it?”
“They asked to see the greenhouse...”

“And then…?”
“I told them I didn’t understand and refused.”
“A visitor?”

Makiko: “Now?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you try guessing who it is?”

Mitsugu: “Yorie Takao.”

Makiko: “Oh! You knew?”
“Well, I can’t believe it…”
“Then why haven’t you greeted her sooner?”

Mitsugu: "I'll go now."
"Just need to wash my hands..."

Makiko (smiled at Yorie): "He knew, you know..."
"He must have felt awkward."

Yorie (amused): "Really?"

Mitsugu (appeared): "Oh, excuse me..."

Yorie: "Yesterday was..."

Mitsugu: "Welcome..."
"We may have forgotten how to entertain guests, but please bear with us and visit awhile."
"In time, as we grow accustomed again, I suppose it will become somewhat less dreary."
"Well now, how about I make some tea?"

Yorie: “There’s really no need to trouble yourself…”

Makiko: “If only we could attend to you properly… We got so caught up in conversation… Brother, Ms. Yorie—well… (putting both hands to her head) all sorts of things have gotten so tangled up…”
(Stands up)

Mitsugu: “Well, let’s hear it properly. More importantly—do we have any sweets?”

Makiko: “Well…”
(Exits to the rear.)

Yorie: “Did you go all the way to the pier in Yokohama?”

Mitsugu: “Yes, I went to see where the ships dock.”
“Portus, or whatever they call it—a French mail ship—it’s quite splendid, isn’t it?”

Makiko (appearing with tea utensils): “Did you figure it out right away?”

Mitsugu: “I figured it out.”
“That Nishihara’s become completely Westernized over five years.”
“He’s done rather well for himself.”
“The welcoming party was something else.”
“First some association representative showed up—then newspaper reporters—surrounded by those types of people—all I managed was a quick nod when eyes met.”

Makiko: “What research brought him here?”
“Labor issues?”

Mitsugu: “Well, that’s right.
“That fellow’s quite the talented man, I tell you.
“Seems he’s been researching theater matters too.
“He was telling newspaper reporters about it.
“Says he’s going to start a grand people’s theater movement.
“What do you say, Ms. Takao? Won’t you go see one of my friend’s people’s theater shows?”

Yorie: “As for plays—I simply adore them!”

Mitsugu: “Haven’t seen a play myself in ages.”

Makiko (offering tea): “Why don’t we have Ms. Yorie guide us there sometime?”

“I’d be grateful if you’d take such initiative,” said Mitsugu. “Ms. Takao has come to bring something truly precious—something like light—into our lives, hasn’t she?”
“Forgive my asking—does your husband work somewhere…?”

Makiko hesitated. “Well... he’s on his own now, I hear….”
“Though I do live with Mother….”

Mitsugu murmured vaguely, “Oh... is that so?”

A long silence.

Makiko: “Ms. Yorie said she’d like to see the greenhouse once.”
“Brother, you’ll show us around later, won’t you?”

Mitsugu: “Ah, sure thing...”
“Not many flowers are blooming now.”
“Shall we take a look before it gets dark?”

Yorie: “But aren’t you tired...?”
“This doesn’t have to be today.”

Mitsugu: “Not tired at all.”
(Stands up)

Makiko (interposing): “Why not have tea first...?”
“It’s not that large anyway...”

Mitsugu (sitting down): That’s right.

Yorie: “What kind of flowers are blooming now?”

Mitsugu: “Right now... cyclamen, heliotrope, cineraria...”

Yorie: “Oh, cineraria...”

Makiko: “They’re really not that impressive.”
“They’re just blooming out of obligation.”

Mitsugu: “If she says such things, come see for yourself this spring.”
“When the tulips bloom—it’s just like being in Holland.”
“And hyacinths—they put on the most splendid blooms in all Tokyo.”

“Enough with the efficacy pamphlets already… If you could say all that to other customers, that would be something…”

“I’m telling them—telling everyone.”

“I wonder if I should have someone teach me how to grow flowers too…”

“Do you like that sort of thing? Would you like to try doing this kind of tending?”

“Well, as long as I can get by...” (laughs)

“Well, that’s the issue.”

Mitsugu (standing up): “Then I’ll accompany you.”

Yorie (rising as if drawn in): “Please….”

(The two exit; soon after, their retreating figures become visible through the glass.)
Makiko gazes blankly in that direction for a moment; then, as if remembering something, she turns squarely forward, plants both elbows on the table, rests her chin in her hands, and sinks into meditation.
During this time, the figures of Mitsugu and Yorie appear and disappear.
A long time passes.
Makiko abruptly leaves the table; with restless motions, she tidies the tea things, gazes out the window, stands before the mirror to adjust her hair, and studies the back of her hand.
Again, a long silence.
Before long, once again, she takes out the photo album from between the bookshelves and begins turning its pages.
And in a low voice, she murmurs, “Nishihara... Nishihara...”
It is as though trying to rouse a fading memory.
She turns the pages of the photo album again.
She gazes at a single photograph for a long time.
Startled by footsteps outside, she returns the photo album to its original place.

(Mitsugu appears, followed by Yorie)

Makiko: “It must be cold outside.”

Yorie: “I didn’t want to leave the greenhouse.”
“Well now... I really must take my leave…”

Mitsugu: "Well, that's fine."

Makiko: "Truly, if your household permits..."

Yorie: "No, if I stay late, Mother will be alone... Besides, that neighborhood is—well—rather desolate."

Mitsugu: "Shall I see you home?"

"I'm quite alright still. Well then, I must take my leave."
"I'll impose upon you again ere long."

Makiko: "Don't say such things—you must come daily..."

Yorie (laughing): "I'll choose moments when Brother's away..."

“Why would you…? Huh, why—”

(After seeing Yorie off, Mitsugu and Makiko exit)

Mitsugu’s voice: “Goodbye.”

Yorie’s voice: “Goodbye.”

(Before long, Mitsugu appears.)

Mitsugu (looking around): “This reception room has been useful.”
(A beat) “Hey Makiko, come here and look—” (taking out various cosmetics from his pocket) “Come look, I said!”

Makiko (appears): “You must be hungry.”

Mitsugu: “I’m not hungry.”
“How’s this?”

Makiko (suspiciously watching Mitsugu’s actions): “What in the world is that...?”
“What could you possibly want with such things...?”

Mitsugu: “What would I even do with it?”
“I bought them for you.”

Makiko: “I don’t use things like eyebrow pencils or rouge anymore.”

“You don’t have to use them—just keep them stored away.”

“What made you think of buying these things?”

“I remembered all sorts of things. That reminds me—you know Nishihara came back alone? Even though he said he’d bring some blonde beauty with him...”

“How could you possibly know that yet? There’s also the possibility of someone coming after him later.”

“You’re such a suspicious one. But would he even come here to visit someone like me? I was thinking of sending him a letter today to suggest we finally have a proper talk after all this time... For now, it seems he’s staying at a hotel called Housenkaku in Kanda. Being alone, he probably can’t afford to keep a house on his own. If he saw you like this, he’d be shocked for sure.”

Makiko (as if uninterested in the topic): “Well then, I’ll go prepare dinner.”

“It’s still early,” Mitsugu said. “Why don’t we talk a bit more? Today feels like the kind of day when all sorts of things are beginning anew. Into this dark life we’ve led until now—cut off from the world, just the two of us—unexpectedly, two brilliant—yes—two brilliant friends are coming to visit us at once. You could say they’ve already come. He’ll definitely come.”

“Brother,” Makiko said. “What do you think of Yorie…?”

Mitsugu: “She’s pleasant company. What does she do?”

Makiko: “They say she works at a foreigner’s shop...”
“Probably just a salesgirl or something...”
“But she doesn’t seem vulgar.”

Mitsugu: “Ah, a working woman then.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“What about that marriage business?”
“You mentioned it last night.”
“Was that wrong?”

Makiko: “She went through with it once, but it seems things didn’t work out.”

Mitsugu: “Hah.”
“Why should I care about that sort of thing...?”
“When associating as friends, I couldn’t care less whether it’s her first attempt or second.”

Makiko: “Must you keep insisting on this ‘as friends’ nonsense?”

Mitsugu: “Now don’t be so blunt.”
“But I’m hopeless.”
“Better not entertain such notions.”
“More importantly—as I keep telling you—I worry about you.”
“In our life till now, there was never any hope of ‘when’ or ‘how.’”
“Yet now that things have come to this, a bright, gentle air begins swirling around you.”
“You must sense it too.”
“To deny it would be false.”
“You must make yourself feel it.”
“That would be ideal.”
“You’re still young.”
“No—you are young!”
“Look at her—Yorie...”
“You’re the same age, aren’t you?”
“That very quality proves she’s attuned to her surroundings.”

“You should become like that—would anyone laugh?”

Makiko: “Men are such carefree creatures.”
“No matter how old they get, they still have their fantasies... and the excitement that matches those fantasies...”

Mitsugu: “What are you saying?”
“I’ve been thinking today that even I might be getting a bit too carried away.”
“Even so, there’s no particular need to suppress such feelings, is there?”
“This is just a hypothetical, mind you—if Miss Yorie were to become my wife, and Nishihara, well, your husband, and if such two new lives were to begin for us both—wouldn’t we have reason to rejoice?”
“That may well be impossible.”
“But compared to two days ago, it might be possible.”
“Isn’t it happiness enough that we’ve encountered such a day today?”
“Hope is the kind of thing that slips away.”
“But if hope would just turn our way and smile for even a moment, shouldn’t we smile right back with all our might?”

“I don’t know if that logic holds water, Brother, but just seeing your cheerful face like this brightens my spirits.”
“Miss Yorie may have her circumstances, but I’m sure she’ll come to like you before long.”
“If even you maintain your current feelings, Brother, matters will settle themselves in quick succession.”
“Should that come to pass, I too shall find peace of mind.”
“I’ll entrust the household management here to that person and go out to work somewhere.”
“If possible, I’ll arrange to have her current position transferred to me.”

“You don’t need to do such things. You should focus on properly getting married and having a house in this neighborhood... Until then, there’s no need for you to go out working—we can just handle the household chores together. Since that person says she enjoys fiddling with flowers, we could have her help with that side of things...”

“Anyway... we won’t know unless we spend a bit more time together.”

Mitsugu: “That’s also true.”
“There’s no need to rush—if we bring it up clumsily and get told she won’t come here anymore, it’ll all be for nothing.”
“If it comes to that, it would’ve been better to say nothing from the start and just have her keep visiting forever as a friend.”
“Such friends are absolutely necessary—for our lives...”
“Earlier, in the greenhouse—she looked at my hand and said it was just like a tree root.”
“She said, ‘Touch it,’ so I held out my hand, and she found it amusing, stroking it with her fingers.”
“Such friends are absolutely necessary, you know—for our lives...”

Act II

The same reception room.

Late March—around 1 PM.

Potted plants—a new nude painting—a sleek table lamp and such.

Mitsugu and Nishihara are talking.

“When you come to visit us like this,” Mitsugu said, “it’s as if we’re being shown that we still have a purpose in life.”
“When you toasted to my health like that—Makiko was crying.”
“Even now, she’s probably gone off somewhere and is still crying.—Why must she be so fragile-hearted? These days she does nothing but weep.”
(loudly) “Hey—Makiko…!”

Nishihara: “Well, perhaps it’s best to let her remain quiet a while longer. Being cooped up like this makes one dwell on all manner of things.”

Mitsugu: “The truth is... we’ve grown too removed from society.”

Nishihara: “I get it already.”
“There’s no use saying those things forever.”
“From now on, you should actively broaden your social circle.”
“Why don’t you find yourself a wife sooner rather than later?”

Mitsugu (flustered): “Well—we need to start by dealing with her first, you see.”

Nishihara: “You’ve got enough wealth to live comfortably. Settle your sister’s matters quickly and take a trip abroad—to the West or somewhere.”
“Then you won’t feel so awkward around people anymore.”
“Say it fast and you’ll grow bold—like me...”

“Well—in that regard, someone like Makiko—though partly because she’s a woman—can’t even hold a proper conversation with you whom she hasn’t seen in ages, as you’ve seen.”
“So this makes it the fourth time today?”
“She still doesn’t seem to be back to her old self.”

Nishihara: "When you've been apart seven years, I suppose that's how it goes—though I like to think I haven't changed all that much myself..."

Mitsugu: "That's why I can't say what I'm thinking. The things I mean to say all get said by them first."

Nishihara: "That's... hard to say..."

Mitsugu (rephrasing): "Not everyone, but... things that don't really matter." (He gives a wry smile.)

(Makiko appears with a tray bearing cups. One could indeed tell she'd been crying, yet she looked remarkably youthful.)

Makiko: "Does this... suit your taste? How about it..."
Nishihara: "Isn't that person here today?"

Makiko: “Ah, Yorie...”
“Well, she might be here soon.”
“On Sunday afternoons, she usually comes...”

“She said she’d planned to tell you all sorts of things once she met you.”

Nishihara: “Who?”

Mitsugu: “No—she’s the one.”
“But when I saw your face... somehow I lost my nerve...”

Makiko: “Oh now... losing nerve? That’s hardly...”

Nishihara: “You know, Makiko—while I was away over there, I didn’t send letters anywhere—but just once, I thought about sending you a picture postcard. Merely thinking about it wasn’t any use—the truth is, I didn’t have money for stamps then. That picture postcard I mentioned—it’s probably still stored away somewhere, so I’ll bring it next time.”

Makiko: “My, what sort of picture postcard could it be?”

Nishihara: “It’s a picture postcard of an actress who resembles you.”
(To Mitsugu) “She bears a striking likeness.”
“French women don’t have that foreign air about them, you see.”

Makiko: “My goodness—could there truly be an actress resembling me?”

Nishihara: “Speaking of actresses—Makiko, have you considered becoming one yourself?”

Makiko: “Myself?”
“As an actress?”
“People would laugh.”

Nishihara: “Ah, but they wouldn’t.”
“To explain why—we perform plays beyond professional actors’ capabilities.”
“We’re organizing a mobile theater troupe called Citizen’s Theater.”
“What say you—are you free evenings from seven to ten?”

Makiko: "Well... But if I were to appear on something like the stage, my legs would freeze right up."

Nishihara: "Why don't we assign those kinds of roles? A role where your legs freeze up... (Everyone laughs) We've got plenty of men, but no women."

Mitsugu: "Why didn't you marry that woman over there?"

Nishihara: "Why ask? There's no point in bringing up such an impossible thing. Hey, Makiko."

Mitsugu: "Hmm, I wonder... After all, Japanese women are better, aren't they?"

“No—that wasn’t quite what I meant.”
“Though now—I suppose there’s nothing for it but to speak plainly.”

“What sort of Japanese women do you prefer?”

“Ah—that sort of thing—one can’t know without seeing.”

Mitsugu: "Of those you've seen, what type was good?"

Nishihara: "One would need to look with that particular intention."

Mitsugu: "Then look with that intention."

Makiko: (Unable to endure) "Brother—if Mr. Nishihara is willing—perhaps you might take a stroll together around there..."

Mitsugu: "I've resolved to take short walks after meals. But today—it hardly matters."

“If we’re going to walk, then let’s walk.”

Mitsugu: “The woods around here are nice.”
“Ah right—you still haven’t found a house.”

Nishihara: “The thing is, the city center’s still no good. Too many customers, you see.”

Mitsugu: “Then why not come to this area?
There are plenty of houses available here.
It doesn’t have to be that big, I suppose.
How about that house—the one next to the nunnery.
There was a notice up until just the other day, you know.”

Makiko: “That one is probably noisy being right by the roadside.
Instead, how about that one…
Although it’s a bit inconvenient, I hear there’s a house in Ms. Yorie’s neighborhood that a painter built and has been left just as it was built…
It seems they’ll rent it out if there’s someone to take it.”

Mitsugu: “It comes with a studio, huh?”
“That’s perfect then.”

Nishihara: “Good.”
“I wonder if I might have it shown to me…”

Makiko: “If I speak to Ms. Yorie’s mother, it should be settled. Shall I go and inquire?”

Nishihara: “If you like, I could join you for a walk along the way.”

Mitsugu: “Well, that’s fine but…” (muttering to himself) “I can’t just leave the house empty, and since it’d be my first time suddenly visiting Ms. Yorie’s place… it’d feel rather awkward…”

Makiko: “I don’t mind that at all, but it’s such a hard-to-understand house...”

“Then I’ll accompany Ms. Makiko.”

Mitsugu: “Ah, go ahead then.”
“That’s fine.”

(After seeing Nishihara and Makiko off, Mitsugu soon appeared on the other side of the glass door.)
For a while, he remained standing, staring fixedly at a single point.
A bright smile.
He then removed his jacket.
He lit a cigarette.
He blew the smoke deeply toward the sky.
When he finished his cigarette, he began carrying out pots two at a time from the greenhouse and arranging them in the flower bed.
A long time passed.

At this moment, Yorie's figure appeared once more beyond the glass door.
She noticed Mitsugu and approached him.
They stood talking.
Yorie's lively laughter came.
Mitsugu set about his work again.
Yorie was watching that.
Before long, she too began to help.
When they reached a stopping point in their work, the two entered the reception room.)

Mitsugu: “The one said to have rented the current house—is he still a painter?”

Yorie: “Well, that’s how the story goes, but…”
“But that person doesn’t seem like a painter….”

Mitsugu: “That might actually be true.”
“Then if Nishihara claims to be a painter, it’s acceptable for him to move in, right?”
“The teachers will come back disappointed.”

Yorie: “If it’s about houses, there are plenty of other good ones available—as many as you could want…”

Mitsugu: “We don’t go out much ourselves, so we wouldn’t know, but do keep this in mind. They did say any amount of inconvenience wouldn’t matter…”

Yorie: “When you say ‘Nishihara-san,’ you mean Mr. Toshio Nishihara, correct? He gave a lecture at Hochi Auditorium recently.”

Mitsugu: “Is that so? I haven’t been reading newspapers or such things lately…”

A long silence.

“Yorie seems to be quite active.”

“That’s probably so.”

A long silence.

Yorie: “Haven’t you been busy lately?”

Mitsugu: “Me?
No—” (Pause) “I’ve composed a song like this—what do you think? ‘Without catching breath, without footfall’s sound—something creeps close unseen, mending what’s torn’—that’s how it goes.”
“It’s from real experience.”

Yorie: (Thinking) “Well...”
“I don’t really understand songs or such things...”
“But you—do you actually mend tears like these yourself?”

“It may sound strange to say this before you,” Mitsugu began, “but even a sister can’t properly manage her brother’s daily needs.” He let out a dry laugh. “She doesn’t seem to consider this her real home at all. Honestly—could you imagine her tending to a husband in this state?” His fingers drummed against the armrest. “Not that she’s lazy about it, mind you—there’s just no... vigor in her efforts.” Leaning forward abruptly, he thrust out his jacket sleeve. “Look here—” A button dangled by loose threads. “—like this! It’s been hanging by a thread for a week now!” With a sharp tug, he ripped the button free. “She won’t lift a finger unless I bark orders like some foreman!”

“But that’s because you’re always here at home, Brother. If you had work that took you outside, you’d surely pay more attention.”

“Then you mean the inside of the house doesn’t matter at all?”
“Exactly. Even this room—she didn’t hang a single picture until people like you started visiting...”
“Such things depend entirely on a woman’s whims.”
“The way interiors get decorated...”

Yorie: “I wonder if that’s really so…”

Mitsugu: “I don’t consider myself a man of particular refinement, but I’ve always thought—how good it would be to have someone beside me who could lend some semblance of taste to my life.”
“Or failing that—vigor.”
“That’s what I want.”
“Truly—since someone has us all bound up this way—our lives…”

Yorie: “It doesn’t appear that way to me.”

Mitsugu: “It’s been recent, I suppose.”
“That is...”
“It’s thanks to all of you.”
“Especially yours.”
“No, it’s true.”
“The reason I’m working so vigorously like this now is because I have the hope of making as many beautiful flowers bloom as possible for your sake.”
“If you were to stop coming to see them, all the flowers in my greenhouse would surely lose their color.”

Yorie (taking it as a jest): “Oh, now really...”

“Do you think I’m lying? Then let’s talk more. The reason we—well, I should say I—started this work wasn’t out of necessity to make a living. I kept wondering if there might be some wholesome work that could brighten my life without burdening others, and after turning it over every which way, I settled on trying to grow flowers. Makiko doesn’t understand the joy of making things. She can preserve objects well enough. But she seems to take no interest in nurturing growth. Do you see? This darkness certainly hangs over her life. And therefore, mine... This may sound like more complaining, but it makes half my life unhappy.”

“But for whose sake has Makiko been remaining alone like that all this time?”
“If we suppose Makiko’s life—well, if it’s a dark one—then whose responsibility is that?”

A long silence.

Mitsugu (gradually grows gloomy)

Yorie: “You shouldn’t say such things.”
“I do think so.”

A long silence.

Mitsugu: “It’s not that I bear no responsibility.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Can that really be changed through my efforts?”

“What you must do is set Makiko-san free without delay.”

Mitsugu: “Free…?”
“She’s free.”

A long silence.

Yorie: “I didn’t come here to have this sort of conversation, you know.”

Mitsugu: “No, it’s quite all right.
“If there’s anything wrong with me, please tell me.
“Though I said such things earlier, truthfully I’m the one most concerned about Makiko.
“I don’t fully grasp what you mean by saying I should set her free, but when it comes to ensuring her happiness, I’m prepared to make any sacrifice.
“If she were to find some respectable position elsewhere now and marry or such, I would naturally endure whatever inconvenience that brings me.”

Yorie (laughing): “That’s only natural.”
“That cannot be called a sacrifice.”

Mitsugu: “Ah, is that so.”
“I see—that was a poor analogy.”
“Then what should I do?”

“I don’t think that’s something you should be asking me,” Yorie said. “Nor do I believe it’s something I ought to answer. That’s a matter Ms. Makiko herself should have thought about most carefully.”

“She has no will of her own.”
“Even if there are things she doesn’t want to do, there’s nothing she actually wants to do, you see.”
“That much, I know better than anyone.”

“How utterly pitiful.”

Mitsugu: “Through your power, please teach her to step forward.”
“She knows that right now, a great happiness waits before her very eyes.”
“Yet knowing this, she remains unable to act.”

“But that sort of thing happens to anyone.”

A long silence.

Yorie: “I’ll come again.”
“I’m in a bit of a hurry today…”
“I did say I’d return by noon.”

Mitsugu: “Well then, the meal isn’t ready yet, I take it?”

Yorie: “No, I had already finished that beforehand—that’s why I was late.”
“Even trivial matters never seem to get settled by morning, do they?”
“I’ll come visit again.”
(Rising) “I might encounter someone like Ms. Makiko along the way.”

Mitsugu: “There are still various things I’d like to discuss, but if this isn’t convenient for you, we can continue another time.”
(He too rose and escorted Yorie out.)
A long while passed.

Yorie’s voice: That’s perfectly fine, really.
Honestly...

“Oh my, this spot is completely soaked.”

Mitsugu’s voice: “Ah—the bucket leaks.”
Tsk—can’t be helped.

A long while passes.

Mitsugu appeared holding two or three pieces of mail.
He opened one of them.
He read it.
While reading, he pulled the chair closer and sat down.
He opened another one and read it.
All of them were just ordinary letters.
The listless expression he wore at times like these.
He picked up a potted plant, sniffed its scent, examined the roots and the undersides of the leaves, then plucked off unnecessary stems.
He stood by the window and looked outside.
He went outside.
He returned after some time.
He left again.
A long while passed.

(At this moment, Makiko and Nishihara enter.)

Nishihara: “There’s no particular hurry—it’s quite all right.”
“Let’s take our time searching.”

Makiko: “I truly am sorry.”
(Turning toward the entrance) “Please, come in…”
“It’s really not a problem at all…”
“How disagreeable you are.”

Yorie (entering hesitantly): "Oh, Brother is...?"

Makiko: "Where did he go, I wonder?"
"He’s out back."
"I'll just go call him, so please make yourselves comfortable..." (She exits after saying this.)

Nishihara: "If we had come a bit earlier or later, it would have been better."

Yorie: "It must be me."

Nishihara: "It’s us..."

Yorie: "It’s the same thing, then…"

Nishihara: "Your mother is still quite young, isn’t she?"

“Because I’m the old woman here.”
“It troubles me if you take it that way.”
“You are truly perceptive.”
“How about it—would you like to try acting in a play?”

“What kind of play is it?”

“A play to show to workers.”
“Though not strictly for workers—essentially, it’s a play with an engaging script, performed earnestly by clever amateurs, shown cheaply to large crowds.”

“I wonder if I could manage it…”

“You could manage it.”

“Would I have the time?”

“From what hour are you free in the evenings?”

“From five…”

“Until when…?”

“I’ll try speaking with Mother—if she’ll permit it…as long as there are trains…”

Nishihara: “Very well.”
“We’ll only cover train fare and boxed lunches.”

Yorie: “That will do perfectly.”

Nishihara: “Please come to my office starting tomorrow.”

Yorie: “I’ll try talking to mother.”

Nishihara: “The office is here.”
(Hands over a business card.)

“Yorie-san, have you tried telling Teacher about it too?”

Nishihara: “When Teacher steps onto the stage, her legs seem to freeze up.”

Yorie: “I might end up just like that.”

“It’s not a job one can push someone into taking, after all…”

“I’ll try recommending it myself.”
“As long as your mother grants her permission, that’s all that’s needed.”
“There’s no one else whose permission I need.”
“I see.”

(Makiko, followed by Mitsugu, entered with smiles on their faces)

Mitsugu: “I did something regrettable.”
(To Yorie) “Hey, make yourself at home.”

Yorie, lacking resolve, was pulled along and came in.

Mitsugu: “That’s precisely how it should be.”
“Shall we play cards or something?”

Nishihara: “I don’t know about such games...”
“Oh now, you two, stop that.”

“I'll teach you.”

“No—I’ll have to pass.”
“Instead, a glass of water please…”

“I’ll prepare some black tea right now.”

“No, water is fine…”
“Water is preferable.”

Makiko (goes to fetch it)

Mitsugu: “Well then, let’s have an interesting conversation.”

Nishihara: “Don’t mind me; proceed.”

Mitsugu: “It’s just killing time anyway.
“It’s all the same no matter what we do.
“When it’s just the two of us alone, we often play solitaire.
“When we sit there silent like that at night, each doing our own game—it feels almost mystical.”

Yorie: “You two seem to like that sort of thing...”

Nishihara: “In the end—you’re idle people through and through.”

Mitsugu: “No—we’re people tormented by idleness.”

Nishihara: “What we call idle people are precisely those tormented by idleness.
Those who actually enjoy leisure—they’re never called idle.”

Mitsugu: “That’s one theory, I suppose.
So does that mean...we simply have too much leisure time?”

Nishihara: “Excessively so.”

Makiko (bringing water): “‘Excessive,’ they say...
There’s no such thing as idleness here.”

Mitsugu: “This woman doesn’t even recognize idleness as idleness.
Goes on about being busy while accomplishing nothing.”

Makiko: “Oh, that’s a lie…”

Yorie: “There’s no such thing at all. Take someone like me—there are times when I think there’s nothing to be done, yet still feel compelled to do something anyway. That feeling gets all tangled up inside until finally… well, there are moments when I simply can’t settle down.”

Nishihara┐

(simultaneously) “That does happen.”

Mitsugu┘

Makiko┐ ┌There are times like that…

├(simultaneously)┤

Yorie┘ └In other words, that sort of thing...

Makiko ┐
(exchanging glances that said "After you")
Yorie ┘

Yorie┘

Nishihara (taking over): "Idleness mustn't be allowed to arise naturally."
"It has to be consciously cultivated…"

Mitsugu: "That's easily said—"

Nishihara: "It varies by trade."

Makiko: "But someone like Mr. Nishihara doesn't merely say things, does he?"

A long silence.

Mitsugu: “This room feels awfully gloomy.”
“The very fact that it's absurdly bright outside makes the inside of the house feel all the more dingy and wretched.”

Makiko: "Shall we have tea outside again?"

Yorie: "The lawn before the greenhouse is rather splendid, isn't it? When one partakes of something there, the flavor differs quite remarkably."

Makiko: “Then let’s do that.”
“Brother, could you help again for a moment?”

“The desk should be fine as it is.”

Yorie: “Yes… but as for chairs—”

Nishihara: “If it’s chairs, I’ll take them there.”

Yorie: “I’ll take them there too.”

Makiko: “Then we’ll each bring our own—”
(Exits first)

Yorie (following after her): “May I help with something?”

Makiko’s voice: “No.”
“It’s quite all right.”

Mitsugu (forcibly takes the chair Yorie was trying to carry away and exits with one in each hand)

Nishihara (also carrying one in each hand and following after): "Coming through."

Yorie (alone at the window, gazing toward the greenhouse.
Takes out a hand mirror and briskly fixes her appearance)

A long pause.

“Yorie, do come.”

Yorie: "Yes." (Having answered, she stares fixedly, deep in thought.
(Rather, waiting for something.)

A long pause.

Mitsugu's voice: Do come, Yorie.

Yorie: Now, right away… (says this, yet remains still)

A long pause.

At this moment, suddenly, Nishihara's figure appeared near the glass door.
Yorie remained unaware of his presence.

Nishihara (in an utterly composed tone yet imbued with familiarity): “Your tea will grow cold.”

Yorie (startled, turns toward that direction)

Nishihara (responds to this with a bright smile)

Act III

The same reception room.

Early May evening, around 7 o'clock—

Dim lamplight—the window curtain swayed in the breeze.

Makiko appeared.
Of course, the youthful vigor from the previous act had faded, and she reverted to her original inconspicuous self.
She took a chair to the window and sat down.
She stared vacantly outside.

The doorbell rang.

She tilted her head slightly with a puzzled look but hurriedly rose from her seat. Soon her voice—“Oh, what have you done? It’s already over.” A pause—Mitsugu entered wearing his outdoor clothes, hat still on his head.

“It’s already over.” A pause—Mitsugu, dressed for going out, enters still wearing his hat.
He wore a dreadfully gloomy expression.
Makiko follows after him anxiously.

“I thought you would be much later today…”
“But isn’t this just about the time it takes to get there...? Then…?”

Mitsugu (sat down in the chair Makiko had been occupying and listlessly removed his hat.
Makiko (taking it from him): Right—I came back before even properly arriving there...

Makiko: "But you did at least show your face there, didn’t you?"

Mitsugu: "No—I didn’t show up."

Makiko: "Oh."

Mitsugu: "It’s better not to go through with it after all—suddenly, when I got there, I thought that.
If it's them, they're the ones who should be inviting us.
But we've got no obligation to go there."

Makiko: “But if we don’t go, they’ll think it strange.”

Mitsugu supposes they must find it odd—it can’t be helped. From our side, we’d still rather avoid going altogether.

Makiko….

“No matter what happens, as long as we can maintain our usual interactions, isn’t that fine?”

Makiko: “But this past month—we haven’t had any proper social interactions at all. After such a conversation, for them to suddenly stop coming here... How mercenary the two of them are.”

Mitsugu: “In the meantime, there was that whole play business, you know.”

Makiko: “I was appalled by the boldness of someone like Ms. Yorie. What do you think [she was like], in front of all those people…?”

Mitsugu: “If she weren’t that kind of woman, Nishihara wouldn’t be swayed, you know.”

“That’s a different matter, though…”

A long silence.

Mitsugu: “The Senseis finally found their perfect match, didn’t they? A revolutionary and a working-class woman…”

Makiko….

Mitsugu: “That Nishihara had been top of his class since middle school—but he’s always been a contrarian…”

Makiko: “Ms. Yorie was someone who gave her teachers such trouble during her school days too, you know. If you tried asking her even a simple question, she’d say ‘I don’t know’ and turn her face away with a huff.”

Mitsugu: “Nishihara had that sort of quality too. But he’s a passionate idealist through and through. These days he’s learned to speak calmly enough, but back then—when the term ‘hot-blooded youth’ was all the rage—he was the very model of one.”

“Yet despite that, Ms. Yorie was twice as quick to tears as anyone—constantly made to listen to friends’ personal stories and ending up crying alone.”
“Back then, personal stories were quite in vogue.”
“Even someone like me was often pestered—‘Tell me yours, tell me yours’—by people.”
“Since I’d been alone with Brother all this time, they must have thought there was some reason behind it.”
“The first person I ever told what you’d call my personal story to was Ms. Yorie.”
“Even when I meant to speak casually about myself, that person would start bawling.”
“In the end, even I grew sad… and then when they’d try to comfort me with kind words, my chest would tighten all the more…”
“It’s strange.”
“And then without fail, we’d end up becoming those ‘let’s be good friends’ types, wouldn’t we?”

“That Nishihara bastard once took me to this weird place, you know... Now that I think about it, it must’ve been the shooting range at Toyamagahara or something—in this dim little booth...”
“There he goes rolling up his sleeves and saying—”
“When I showed him by rolling up mine, he rolled up his scrawny ones too.”
“Then just when I wondered what he’d do next, he whips out this pencil-sharpening knife from his pocket—‘C’mon, I’ll draw blood too! You do the same—let’s drink each other’s!’—and suddenly tries to jam it into my arm! So I’m like, ‘Whoa, hold on—!’”

Makiko: “Yes yes—Mr. Nishihara’s passion for photography was truly remarkable indeed. Didn’t he used to bring around one newly taken photo each week? Each one had such unconventional angles—he’d even go so far as to change his hairstyle specifically for them. There were two or three times when I had my picture taken with him too.”

Mitsugu: “When I asked ‘Who’s this?’, you absolutely refused to say—that one’s the same, isn’t it? Look—you’re sitting there with your hand on his shoulder... No matter how many times I asked ‘Who’s this?’, you just kept laughing and wouldn’t tell me, so I threatened to go check at your school, didn’t I?”

Makiko: “Did such a thing really happen…? But before that, that person came to our house.”

Mitsugu: “No—he didn’t come. It was just before graduation that you brought him here for the first time. At that time, I thought, ‘Ah, so that’s how it was...’”

Makiko: “Even back then, he wasn’t so much pretty as he was striking, wasn’t he. There was something vivid about him…”

Mitsugu: “Come to think of it, I wonder if Ms. Takao and Nishihara ever met at our house back then... Though I might not have introduced them...”

Makiko: “Even if they did meet, both must have forgotten by now.”
“But Mr. Nishihara does have such distinctive features…”
“They might already be talking about such things.”

Mitsugu: “Of course they finished that conversation ages ago.”
“‘Oh, so it was you there that time?’—they must have said something like that.”

Makiko: “Then Mr. Nishihara became more reserved after entering university, didn’t he?”

“Reserved... Is he really that reserved?”

“But he didn’t drink alcohol or use rough language like some others... Wasn’t Mr. Kamiya rather reckless?”

“Kamiya’s the fool here, that’s… Nishihara—right, you know—he’s really started putting on airs since coming to university. He’s even learned to talk while wiping his glasses, you know.”

“Speaking of which...”

Silence.

“What?”

“No, it’s nothing…”

Long silence.

Mitsugu: "With this, I feel as though Ms. Takao and Mr. Nishihara might simultaneously drift very far away from us—but conversely, I also feel as though they'll linger around here forever, stubbornly refusing to fade from our minds."

Makiko: "Either way, it's too..."

Mitsugu: "Yeah."
"It doesn't matter anyway."
(Pause.) "Hey—when people come back, make them drink tea."
"And haven't I been saying since the other day? We should replace this bulb with a bigger one..."

“Brother, you’re precisely the one who ought to buy and bring it while you’re at it.” (stood up)

“That’s precisely why it won’t do.”
“If you don’t even think to properly tidy up the house yourself…”
“Look—even this place could be made a bit more homelike, don’t you think?”

Makiko: “Is plain tea acceptable?”
Mitsugu: “You should think about such things yourself.”
Makiko exits.

Mitsugu (holds his head).

A long moment.

Mitsugu (with a vaguely unsettled air, paces around the room.
Stops occasionally, listening intently.
It’s unclear what he’s trying to hear.
But after each such motion, an anguished expression invariably surfaces.)

Makiko (brings in black tea): “The water’s a bit lukewarm, though.”

“I don’t want any.”

Makiko (leans back in her chair, utterly at a loss).

Mitsugu: “There’s nothing for you to think about.”
“You have your life—I have mine.”
“I have work.”
“Why are you turning away?” (snapping) “This isn’t working! No matter how much time passes—”

Makiko (startles, turns toward him—her eyes clouded with loneliness rather than resentment, closer to pity).

Long silence.

Mitsugu (as if suddenly remembering, pulled out a book—likely at random—from the bookshelf, threw himself into the armchair, and began flipping through its pages.
(Of course, this was undoubtedly preparation to change his tone of voice) "Could you go take out the office light bulb?"

Makiko (obediently stood up and exited).

Mitsugu (throws the book onto the table, takes off his left shoe, removes the sock, and fiddles with his toes).

Makiko (brings the light bulb; after casting a somewhat surprised glance at this scene): “Shall I replace the bulb?”

Mitsugu: “Yeah.”

Makiko replaced the light bulb.
(approaching Mitsugu) "Brother, is that a blister?"

Mitsugu: "Yeah."

Makiko: "Should I bring a band-aid or something?"

Mitsugu: "Instead of that, bring me some rice grains and a needle..."

"Should you really be doing that?"

Mitsugu: "It's fine."

Makiko went to fetch rice grains and a needle and returned with them

Mitsugu popped the blister with a needle
He applied rice grains on top
He affixed a piece of paper

Makiko stood vacantly nearby during this time

“Don’t you have anything to do?”

...

“Don’t you have your own matters to attend to?”

“No, not particularly...”

“It’s strange, isn’t it? Why is it that tonight of all nights, neither you nor I have anything to do?”

“Brother, there was something I thought to do tonight while you were out.”

Mitsugu: "What? Like what...?"

Makiko (sitting in a chair): “I thought I would write a letter.”
Mitsugu: “Where to?”
Makiko: “To my friend.”

Mitsugu: "A friend……?"
"What kind of friend…?"
"Who...?"

Makiko: "A friend... someone I was as close with as Yorie-san..."

Mitsugu: "So they're still alone after all?"

Makiko: "Until the year before last, they were said to be alone."

Mitsugu: "Until the year before last..."
"Hmm…"
"Ah... The one who said we met once somewhere..."

Makiko: "Yes, Mr. Shoji..."

Mitsugu: Why don't you write it then?
"They're in Tokyo."

Makiko: Are they still at their old place...?

Mitsugu: If you ask at the school, you'll find out. (beat) Though among my crowd... there's probably nobody who'd be glad to get a letter from us.
"Someone like Kamiya, maybe..."
"That guy's likely got two or three kids by now."
"There might be someone living right nearby that we don't even know about."

“Yorie-san was like that too.”
“Someone who doesn’t even pass through this area normally.”
“Yes.”

A long silence.

Mitsugu: "As for tomorrow..."
"Transplanting those..."

Makiko: ...

Mitsugu: I could go to bed now, but it feels like a waste to sleep tonight—the wind's picked up, hasn't it?

Makiko: ...

Mitsugu: “Somehow... I feel like some incident might occur.”

Makiko: “Hasn’t there already been an incident?”

Mitsugu: “Here too...
If we just wait quietly, I feel something might come our way.
Don’t you sense it?”

Makiko: “I do.”

Mitsugu: “See? It probably will.
Strange thing, isn’t it?
I suppose this is how it must be.”

Makiko: ...

“Should I stay up all night tonight?”
“Shall we stay here like this and watch?”
“There’s something… I’m sure of it—”

“No… I couldn’t let you do something like that—”

“Anyway, this is undoubtedly something significant.”
“Four souls might dance the Danse Macabre in this moonlight.”
“I want to see that.”
“I want to see it—even for just a moment.”

“What do you mean... that...”

Mitsugu: "You should just sleep quietly." (beat) "Or else—could you sing out loud?"
(beat) "Both seem rather difficult, don't they?"
"Then what should we do?"
(beat) "Isn't there no choice but to keep going like this?—Better than staying still like this…"

(Leans head against the back of the chair)

Makiko (wipes tears quietly)

--CURTAIN--