Pathway to Japanese Literature

One

The elder brother Matsukichi and his younger brother Sugisaku were a year apart in age but looked very much alike. Their foreheads were disproportionately large for their faces; when they laughed, wrinkles formed on their brows like a monkey’s; and when they ran, they both splayed their hands open—all these traits were identical. “You two aren’t different at all.” People often said this. At this, the elder brother Matsukichi would pucker his mouth and, spraying saliva from the gap in his rotten tooth, retort:

“That’s not true.” “I’ve got two warts!” “But Sugi doesn’t have a single one!” Having said that, he thrust out his bony right fist and showed it. Upon looking, sure enough, there were two small warts about a centimeter apart where the thumb and index finger met.

It was during last year’s summer vacation that their cousin Katsumi came from town to visit the brothers’ house. Katsumi was the same age as Matsukichi and in the fifth grade of elementary school. Though Katsumi was a fifth-grader, his small frame made him still about five centimeters shorter than Sugisaku, a fourth-grader, when standing side by side. Yet this fidgety, ever-active boy was promptly dubbed “Twenty-Day Mouse” upon arriving at Matsukichi and Sugisaku’s house.

Behind Matsukichi and Sugisaku’s house stood a large cinnamon tree with a trunk so thick it took two arm spans to encircle. When they crushed the bark of that tree with stones, it gave off a pleasant smell, so on drowsy afternoons when the adults were napping, the three of them would tap-tap on the tree trunk like woodpeckers. Another time, Katsumi discovered hair growing inside Grandfather’s ear and, “Ha ha! Grandfather, your ear has hair growing in it!”

there was a time when they joined in jeering. Matsukichi and Sugisaku had known such things for a long time. But since Katsumi was jeering so amusingly, they ended up joining in as well, “Ha ha! Grandfather’s ear has hair growing in it!” they joined in jeering. Then, Grandfather glared at Matsukichi and Sugisaku,

“What’s this, you brats? You see Grandfather’s ear hair every day and know all about it—yet you go mocking me!”

he snapped. Such things happened. Katsumi was fascinated by the foot-powered mortar and begged them to let him pound rice. However, after stepping on it about twenty times, he grew tired of it and climbed down, leaving Matsukichi and Sugisaku to finish the task. On the afternoon before Katsumi was due to return to town, the three boys carried a tub up to Kinugawa Pond on the back mountain. Kinugawa Pond wasn’t particularly large, but between its bottomless depths, crystal-cold waters, and distance from the village, even local children avoided playing there. The trio resolved to cling to that tub and cross from the southern shore to the northern bank.

When the three arrived at the southern embankment and looked, they saw that the pond—surrounded by mountains to the east, north, and west—held nothing but those peaks and pure white clouds floating upon it, with no trace of human presence anywhere around. The three of them already felt a slight unease. But after going through all the trouble of carrying the tub here, wouldn’t it be rather spineless to return without even entering the water? The three of them summoned courage and stripped naked. Then, cautiously, they lowered the tub into the reeds beneath the embankment.

The tub went *Splash!* The sound seemed so loud that one might think it had echoed throughout all the surrounding mountains. From the tub, ripples spread outward. As they watched, the ripples spread all the way to the farthest edge of the pond, where the shadow of a small pine tree swayed gently back and forth. The three of them began to feel a bit more spirited.

“Let’s get in.”

“Let’s get in,” said Matsukichi while looking back.

“Yeah.” Katsumi nodded.

The three naked boys slipped into the water with soft splashes and grabbed onto the edge of the tub. And then, with muffled laughter, they exchanged glances and laughed. Whether they were laughing because it was funny or because it was too cold, even they themselves couldn’t quite tell. Now that things had come to this, they couldn’t remain still. The three moved their legs. At first, because their rhythm wasn’t synchronized, they could only thrash about in one spot. But before long, they began kicking the water in the same direction. The tub began to inch forward, little by little, toward the center of the pond.

A long time passed.

The three were exhausted. They grew tired of moving their legs. Now, how far had the three come? When they saw their position, they were startled. They were right in the very center of the pond, weren’t they? In the surrounding mountains, cicadas were chirping loudly. Their minds alone grew frantic. However, their bodies would no longer move. “I can’t swim anymore.” ... said younger brother Sugisaku with a smile that was about to turn into tears.

Matsukichi also felt like crying. He silently closed his eyes. “I can’t go on either.” “I can’t go on either,” Katsumi said. Matsukichi opened his eyes and declared firmly,

“Let’s go back. It’s time we got going.”

said Matsukichi. And then, he gave the tub a strong shove in the opposite direction. Sugisaku and Katsumi remained silent. However, they had no choice but to follow Matsukichi. On the thoroughly exhausted faces of the two, a faint glimmer of resolve could be seen. The tub did not seem to be moving. No matter how much time passed, returning to their original embankment seemed impossible.

The three of them occasionally cast fleeting, despairing glances toward the embankment that showed no sign of drawing nearer. At that moment, from Matsukichi’s lips burst,

“Yoitomake!” A shout of “Yoitomake!” burst out. Yoitomake—it was a chant that people in rural areas would recite in unison when preparing the ground before building a house, heaving and lowering heavy clods of earth together to combine their strength. It was a rural word. It was an embarrassing word for a town child like Katsumi to hear. Yet now, Matsukichi felt no embarrassment at all. He was desperate.

“Yoitomake!” And kicking the water, Matsukichi said again. Then, younger brother Sugisaku, in a tearful voice,

“Yoitomake!” he responded. Sugisaku was also desperate. “Yoitomake!”

Matsukichi raised his voice.

Then this time, not only Sugisaku but even Katsumi joined in, “Yoitomake!” they responded. Katsumi, too, was desperate. All three were desperate. There is nothing that bonds human emotions as tightly as desperation. Matsukichi felt as though the emotions of the three of them had been solidly clenched into the shape of a single fist. Then, a hundred times more strength than before powerfully surged forth.

“Yoitomake!” said Matsukichi. “Yoitomake!” said Sugisaku and Katsumi. Suddenly, the tub seemed to have sped up. The embankment was now right there. Look—already, a single reed touched the tub. Katsumi had stayed at Matsukichi and Sugisaku’s rural home for about ten days, but never before had the three of them grown so close in heart as on this final day.

When they returned home from the pond, the three boys were so thoroughly exhausted in both mind and body that they sat on the bench beneath the wisteria trellis, their stomachs hollowed out like deflated balloons. At that moment, Katsumi was stroking Matsukichi’s right hand and said with a laugh, “How do you get warts? I wish I could have one too.” “Want me to pass you one?” Matsukichi said.

“Want me to pass you one?” said Matsukichi.

“You’ll give me one?” Katsumi widened his eyes in surprise. Matsukichi brought a chopstick from inside the house. “Where do you want it?” “Here.” Katsumi chuckled disbelievingly and extended his left upper arm like someone receiving a vaccination. The chopstick was passed between one wart on Matsukichi’s right hand and Katsumi’s arm. Matsukichi put on an intensely serious face. And then, gazing upward at the sky,

“Wart, wart, transfer! Wart, wart, transfer!” he chanted in a clearly meaningful incantation.

On that very day, Katsumi, the town boy, received a heap of souvenirs—eggplants, cucumbers, watermelons—and returned to his home in town.

II

In the shadow of the cowshed, when the sasanquas bloomed white, Matsukichi and Sugisaku’s family made anko rice cakes. Called the Harvest Offering, this was a celebration observed by every farming household once the autumn harvest and rice preparation had been fully completed. When Matsukichi and Sugisaku returned home from school on Saturday afternoon, it was decided they would deliver the rice cakes to Katsumi’s house in town. This was something the two had already secured by pleading with their mother since yesterday when making the rice cakes.

Because there were two good things about this. One was being able to meet their cousin Katsumi, whom they had grown close with during summer vacation, and the other—though they didn’t want to state it too plainly—was receiving an allowance. Moreover, unlike country folks, the town uncle and aunt didn’t penny-pinch when it came to money. They always gave them an allowance of about fifty sen. As Mom was wrapping the tiered lacquered box containing rice cakes in a furoshiki cloth, Matsukichi—

“Hey, Mom—is it okay if I take the train?” he pleaded in a nasal whine.

“What’s this? “The train? “If you can’t even walk to such a close place, then I’ll just stop asking you to go altogether. “Have your father make a quick bike trip there—that’d settle it all.”

“Hmph.” Matsukichi snorted through his nose. However, he found slight consolation in thinking that on the return trip, he could ride the train with the allowance he would receive. Matsukichi and Sugisaku left home without wearing their hats. If they wore hats to town, the town children would surely notice the badges and realize that Matsukichi and Sugisaku had come from the countryside. That was what the two disliked. As the two passed by the stone torii gate of Hachiman Shrine, there stood Kenbō, holding a spinning top and looking dejected all by himself.

“Sugi, where you off to? Wanna play?” he called out.

Sugisaku said,

“We’re goin’ to town, y’know.”

said Sugisaku. And the two of them passed by without so much as a glance to the side, like people advancing toward newfound happiness.

Kenbō wore the expression of a kitten that had been sent flying as he watched the two depart. By the time they had left the village, Matsukichi noticed his right hand was aching. When he looked, he saw the tiered lacquered box was held in his right hand. Just then, by good fortune, a bamboo piece about one meter long lay by the roadside. The two threaded the bamboo through under the knot of the furoshiki cloth and decided to carry it together. The younger brother Sugisaku took the front, and the older brother Matsukichi took the rear. Carrying it between them this way, the tiered lacquered box became remarkably light. It was a clever setup.

The two of them walked on in silence for a while. Matsukichi began to idly think—if they give us fifty sen— Would they even give us fifty sen? But Auntie had given fifty sen last year and the year before that, so she’d probably give it this year too. If they gave us fifty sen, what should I buy with it? Materials for a model airplane—the kind that Tōichi-kun from the rice shop has—how much would that cost? I wonder if fifty sen isn’t enough to buy it. Or maybe I should buy a magazine. As for my brother, I wonder what he wants...

Matsukichi’s aimless dream—suddenly,

“Boom!”

Matsukichi’s aimless dream was shattered by a monstrous sound— Matsukichi was so startled he nearly let go of the bamboo he was holding.

It was younger brother Sugisaku, walking right in front, who had let out that sound. When Matsukichi realized it was Sugisaku, he became irritated. “What the heck was that idiotic noise you made?”

Then Sugisaku, without looking back, said the following. “Oh—’cause there was a kite sittin’ right on top o’ this tree here—so I fired a cannon shot, that’s all.”

There was nothing to be done.

Again, the two of them walked on in silence for a while. Once again, Matsukichi began to think—would Katsumi be at home today? When he sees our faces, how happy he’ll be. Did the wart take hold properly on the arm? One of my warts has disappeared, though.

Matsukichi gently looked at his own right hand.

Three

When they entered the town, the two of them suddenly felt as if they had become shabby. In this state, even without seeing the cap insignia, one could tell they had come from a mountain village. First of all, townspeople didn’t go around staring vacantly at their surroundings like souls had been sucked out of them, nor did they nearly collide with horse-drawn carts and get yelled at. However, both of them found themselves unable to stop this vacant staring.

The two of them felt one anxiety in their hearts. It was the fear that they might get caught by town children and bullied. So they kept their nerves taut, proceeded warily, and chose to go through places where there were as few children as possible. After passing Dōmei Shoshin, a large bookstore, and walking a short distance, Katsumi’s house stood in a narrow alley leading east. So when they passed Dōmei Shoshin, the two stretched their necks like geese and peered into every narrow alley. They peered even into places that weren’t proper roads—mere gaps between houses.

After a while, Sugisaku, “Ah, here it is!” he exclaimed, as if he had found a dropped wallet. Sure enough, in the middle of that alley, there was a barbershop sign shaped like red and white twisted candy. —Katsumi’s house was a barbershop.

The two of them proceeded calmly forward like someone who had firmly grasped the tail of good fortune. They pulled out and discarded the bamboo piece. Matsukichi took charge of the tiered lacquered box. Matsukichi silently rehearsed in his mouth—as people there would say—the things his mother had taught him. When they reached the shopfront, before the frosted glass entrance doors bathed in winter afternoon’s biting sunlight stood two small pots of orchids with thorns at every leaf tip. Eggshells lay overturned at the orchids’ roots, road dust piled atop them, creating an illusion of chill. Yet inside the shop—though obscured by frosted glass—warm steam seemed to rise. There awaited kind aunt and uncle, and dear Katsumi.

When they opened the heavy glass door and stepped inside, a man lay alone on the tatami-matted area, sprawled on his back reading a newspaper. On this side, a towel steamer with its round silver head polished to a shine sat alone, emitting steam with a rhythmic hiss. The man had apparently been dozing off while reading the newspaper and remained still for some time, but eventually, startled by someone’s presence, he flung the newspaper aside and sat up. Seeing this, the two were startled. It wasn’t the uncle.

That was Kodaira-san, the third son of the blacksmith from their village. Kodaira-san had graduated from school around spring of the previous year. Come to think of it, they seemed to recall having heard sometime that Kodaira-san had gone to work as an apprentice at a barbershop in town.

The two of them gazed intently at Kodaira-san’s face and figure. Kodaira-san had somehow become somewhat more subdued. His complexion had grown paler，and his jawline appeared more pronounced. Kodaira-san’s hair，likely shaped by barbershop work，was neatly trimmed into a square. He had always kept quiet，eyes narrowed in a constant smile. Yet this same man frequently played pranks from behind people’s backs.

Once, Matsukichi had had azuki beans put in his ear and had been troubled by it. Whether Kodaira-san still remembered such things or might have forgotten them—in any case, there he stood now with both hands in the pockets of his white work coat, smiling at the two of them. “Today both the master and mistress have gone to some Konkōkyō thing or other,” Kodaira-san said, “and Katsumi hasn’t come back from school yet.”

The two of them were slightly disappointed. “But since it’s only three o’clock, wait a little longer,” said Kodaira-san. “The mistress might come back soon.” There, hope welled up again. The two of them lined up shoulder to shoulder at the edge of the raised floor and sat down. Kodaira-san said they might as well take the rice cakes now and went into the back, making clattering sounds. Before long, he returned with the empty tiered box wrapped again in the cloth. Matsukichi received it and placed it beside his knee.

Five minutes had passed since then. Still, the aunt had not returned. Neither the uncle nor Katsumi had returned. Matsukichi and Sugisaku let out a small sigh together.

Kodaira-san had been looking at their heads, “Your hair’s gotten pretty long. How ’bout I give you a cut instead of the allowance?” said Kodaira-san. The two exchanged glances and chuckled quietly. Neither Matsukichi nor Sugisaku had ever had their hair cut at a barbershop in their lives. The one that always cut their hair was the clippers held in either their father’s or mother’s hand. The clippers had been in terrible condition for five or six years now, sometimes clamping down hard and becoming impossible to remove once they bit in, so the two of them didn’t particularly care for getting their hair cut at home.

The two of them looked at the magnificent chair before them. White ceramic armrests were attached. The seating area was upholstered in black leather. The backrest too was black leather. Even a small cushion-like pillow was attached on top. The lower part had a metal footrest where one could place their feet, which featured an openwork carved pattern. They would sit in this magnificent chair and have it done for them. The two of them exchanged glances once again, wordlessly.

Urged by Kodaira-san, Matsukichi and Sugisaku yielded to each other, both backing into the corner until finally it was decided that Matsukichi, being the older brother, would go first. Matsukichi timidly climbed onto the fine chair. He felt as if he had climbed up to a ridiculously high place. In the large mirror directly before him, his own gourd-shaped face was reflected with such clarity that he grew embarrassed.

Kodaira-san wrapped a pure white cloth around Matsukichi’s body from the neck down. His hands were trapped. Kodaira-san took out a pair of clippers from somewhere. The clippers looked just like the ones they had at home. When the clippers touched him，Matsukichi involuntarily hunched his neck. This clipper too was going to bite me—or so I thought. With a plop，when he saw what had fallen onto the white cloth，it was his own black hair that had been cut. "Oh，so it had already been cut，" I thought. It didn’t hurt at all! There，Matsukichi finally relaxed and let the tension out of his shoulders.

When his hair had been cut, Matsukichi thought this was the end. At home, that was always all there was to it. However, to his surprise, the stool let out a faint creak and began tilting backward. “Ah!” Matsukichi cried out. However, the stool had not fallen over. Only the backrest extended backward, leaving him lying on his back.

As he looked at the white ceiling and the large frosted glass lamp shaped like a head of cabbage， suddenly something hot and wet was slapped onto his entire face， and his vision went dark. Sugisaku， who had been watching， apparently found it amusing and burst into laughter： “Hahahaha！” Matsukichi also wanted to laugh， but with his face covered， he couldn’t. He came to fully understand that people laugh with their faces. What had been placed on the face was a steamed towel.

Kodaira-san removed the towel, then used a thick brush-like tool to apply soap lather to Matsukichi’s face and began shaving from the hairline with a razor.

At that moment, Matsukichi remembered again how Kodaira-san, when he was still a child in the village, used to often play pranks on him and the others. Kodaira-san would often sneak up from behind, slip his hands down people’s backs, and tickle their armpits. And he narrowed his small eyes and grinned slyly. Even now, Matsukichi was filled with restless anxiety that Kodaira-san might start up those pranks again. Especially when Kodaira-san pinched Matsukichi’s ear and shaved the hair around it about twice, Matsukichi became convinced that Kodaira-san had started up his old pranks again. He was just about to burst out chuckling. However, when he looked at Kodaira-san’s face, it wore a serious expression. This wasn’t play—it was the face of an adult engaged in work.

Matsukichi understood that because Kodaira-san had become an adult, he would no longer play around. Adults work. Even something that seemed like a prank—like pinching someone’s ear to shave it—was part of Kodaira-san’s job, so he did it seriously. To Matsukichi, becoming an adult seemed like a promise to stop fooling around and become serious. He felt a vague feeling of loneliness.

After washing his head at the corner washstand, returning once more to the chair, and having a slick substance applied to his face, Matsukichi’s turn was finished. This time, his younger brother Sugisaku took his turn and climbed onto the chair. When they looked at the clock, it was 3:40. The sunlight that had been shining down to the bottom of the glass entrance door earlier now remained only a little at the top, as if forgotten.

Just then, the entrance door clattered open roughly, and a boy in a brown jacket carrying a handbag came in. “I’m home!” It was Katsumi. Matsukichi and Sugisaku sprang back to life at once. The words “Katsumi-chan” rose to Matsukichi’s throat. However, they stopped there. In contrast to Katsumi’s overwhelmingly urban demeanor, they were reminded of their own rustic awkwardness.

Katsumi first made eye contact with Matsukichi and then with Sugisaku. However, Katsumi’s eyes were as cold as if looking at strangers. Matsukichi wondered if Katsumi still didn’t realize they were Matsukichi and Sugisaku. It was a frustrating feeling. Katsumi did not remain there long. He climbed the stairs behind Matsukichi and went up to the second floor.

But still, Matsukichi did not abandon hope. Katsumi would finish some small errand upstairs and come down soon. And Matsukichi thought he would come play with us.

However, Katsumi did not come back down at all.

Before long, two people who seemed to be Katsumi’s friends,

“Katsumiii!”

With that, they entered the shop from outside.

Katsumi came down from the second floor. Matsukichi’s chest pounded with excitement. This time for sure, Katsumi would say something to them, Matsukichi thought.

However, Katsumi paid no attention to Matsukichi. And then, he beckoned his two town friends, and the three of them clattered noisily up to the second floor. Matsukichi felt as if he had been shoved off. The ground beneath his feet had turned into something bleached white and desolate. Matsukichi understood. To Katsumi, Matsukichi and Sugisaku—who had played together with him in the countryside for about ten days—were nothing at all. In Katsumi’s urban life—unlike the countryside—there were so many things happening that this was simply how things naturally were.

Four

Matsukichi and Sugisaku walked from the town toward the village, their faces as if their souls had drained away. The empty tiered lacquered box dangled limply from Matsukichi’s right hand thrust into his trouser pocket, swinging against his backside with each step. In stark contrast to their hopeful spirits on the way there, what hollow, evasive hearts they must have carried on their return. When he thought about it, today had been utterly foolish. First of all, Katsumi had ignored him. Second, because they couldn’t get their allowance, they couldn’t take the train back either. Third, since they still hadn’t received their allowance, their dream of buying magazines and model airplane materials was dashed.

As he realized they were being ditched and sent home shorn bald, Matsukichi suddenly felt the evening wind seeping into his freshly cropped head and collar. "Boom!"

And suddenly, Sugisaku shouted.

Thinking it might be another kite, Matsukichi looked around, but there was nothing of the sort to be seen anywhere. Beyond the withered mulberry field, the bright red sun was now sinking. “What’s there?” Matsukichi asked Sugisaku. “I ain’t doin’ nothin’. Just tried firin’ a cannon.” Sugisaku said. Matsukichi understood his brother’s feelings as clearly as if holding them in his hand. The younger brother was lonely too, just like him.

Then Matsukichi also,

“Boom!” He fired a cannon shot. Then Matsukichi felt—that from now on, there’d surely be countless times they’d get stood up like today. No matter how many times we meet that sadness, we just gotta keep walkin’ past with straight faces.

“Boom!”

And again, Sugisaku fired. “Boom!” And Matsukichi fired back.

The two of them, firing cannons nonstop with *Boom! Boom!* sounds, gradually brightened their hearts as they made their way home.