Pathway to Japanese Literature

I Two Saturdays in a row had been rainy.—Miki had wanted to go out even in the rain, but pressed by Aoki’s invitation letter—which insisted on waiting for a properly clear Saturday—and perhaps owing to having spent two Sundays in solitary rest, when he awoke this morning and saw the radiant sky, he could not help— “Ah, how delightful!” he muttered, recalling that morning feeling from middle school field trips. “And Monday’s a holiday too...”

“How splendid to finally have a nice long chat with Mr. Aoki after so long!”

His sister said this enviously.

“Which Aoki…?” Needless to say, Miki had been close friends with his elder brother Aoki, and Miki’s sister had likewise been close friends with Aoki’s younger sister Yukiko since their school days. “But brother, even if you say that, could you really manage to talk with Miss Yukiko alone?”

“…………” When Miki was told such things by his sister and imagined that scene, he could only be struck by a bittersweet joy so intense it made his chest ache.

There was a sunlit grassy hill—a crystal-clear stream flowed where fish swam visible as if one could reach out and touch them—a mountain of oranges spread its wings to embrace a small village within its breast—it must have been when the oranges had largely taken on their hue—ascending that beautiful orange-grove hill, if you turned midway to look back, you could see the tranquil blue sea spread out below like a pond…… When Miki thought of Aoki’s village, the season of oranges inevitably surfaced—Yukiko, leading alone on horseback up the hill, stretched her arm from the horse’s back and plucked an orange. The sour scent stung his nostrils! Such utterly trivial impressions remained all the more vividly in Miki’s memory.

“Whoa! Sour!” No sooner had Yukiko hunched her shoulders dramatically and let out a scream than she glanced back with an utterly comical expression—the image of her face in that instant remained vividly etched in Miki’s memory. “You idiot, did you actually eat that?!” Aoki called out to his sister from behind Miki. But because Yukiko suddenly quickened her horse’s pace and galloped toward the hilltop, the voice from behind went unheard. Before long, Yukiko reached the hilltop with a small shrine under a red pine and dismounted from her horse,

“I’ll give you one too, Mr. Miki.” “Try to catch it properly.” No sooner had she said this than she loftily tossed a single greenish-yellow orange high toward Miki with graceful ease. Miki, while walking, skillfully caught it with one hand. “Go on, try eating it.” Aoki called out from beside him, “It’s no good. You can’t eat that!” he cautioned, but Miki, paying no heed, peeled it.

“Yukiko’s being mean, you know. She’s tricking you into eating that stuff just to watch your face pucker up from the sourness. Quit it! Quit! Those green oranges aren’t fit to eat—ah, just seeing them makes my teeth ache something awful.”

Aoki continued interrupting in that manner, but Miki— “I’m fine.” —said and suddenly tossed it into his mouth.

II Miki shuddered at the sourness of the orange. “This is shocking!” Pfft! He involuntarily spat it out. When he looked over, Yukiko was clapping her hands and laughing. “Come on, Mr. Miki, try to catch me.” “If you catch me, you can give my cheek a good pinch.” “As punishment for tricking you into eating that sour orange—” “But Miss Yuki will escape on horseback.” “In that case, there’s absolutely no way I could catch you.”

“In that case, I can lend you Dorian (the Aoki family’s horse). Can you ride?” “I can ride—” Miki ended up replying. He was by nature not very fond of horses, but he thought Dorian would probably be all right. But that required considerable resolve. It was an Indian summer day across peaceful fields and mountains—sour oranges—playfulness—with the stated purpose of pinching a girl’s cheek (he would never actually pinch her—no, in that moment, perhaps he’d instead plant a kiss on that cheek), a brave youth swung himself onto a gallant steed and went chasing after the lovely maiden——.

Miki felt this playful scene resembled something straight from a fairy tale or mythic episode, leaving him thoroughly delighted. When he reconsidered matters this way, Yukiko’s figure—standing atop the hill directly above them while grasping Dorian’s bridle and calling their way, her sockless feet in shoes beneath a gaudy yellow jumper, her short tousled hair ablaze in the sunlight—appeared in Miki the daydreamer’s eyes precisely like some mythic heroine made flesh.

“That’ll be fun. Miki riding Dorian should be amusing. I’ll be the referee.” And Aoki also agreed.

Miki noticed that both his legs were trembling slightly. He had always been the sort who could not approach any horse. Whenever he drew near to those bulging large eyes or the robust nostrils with breath like bellows, he would often be seized by an inexplicable trembling as though he had seen a monster. Such fear, the allure of the girl’s plump cheeks, and the faintly sweet fairy-tale-like euphoria had been sparking before his eyes for some time,

“Well then, I’ll leave Dorian right here.” “Since I’m escaping on my own two legs, you’ll just have to let me start way ahead.”

At Yukiko’s voice, Miki looked up at the hill once more, and there—already having discarded her jumper—the girl’s bare arms and healthy legs shone dazzlingly. To Miki, the girl’s figure appeared as that of Diana, the forest goddess who entrusted her outer garments, shoes, and bow and arrows to her attendants before descending into the valley to bathe. Diana, enraged for her own chastity when the youth Actaeon gazed upon that scene, threw water from a jar,

“If you can tell others that you saw Diana’s naked form, then go ahead and try.”

and shouted, setting her guardian hounds—Panphagus, Dosius, Sillon, and others—to leap at the youth. For some reason, that terrifying myth was suddenly recalled by Miki.

III

By the time Miki had scrambled up the hill, Yukiko’s figure was already nowhere to be seen. Dorian was eating grass in front of the shrine.

“What an extraordinary contest this has turned into.” “I wonder which side I should take.” “...But anyway, you’d better chase after her in a great hurry—the escapee here’s a Lautendelain (forest maiden) who knows every rabbit path under mountain grasses, so a hunter from the capital’ll lose sight of her in the blink of an eye.” “I think I’ll just stand here and watch… this most wondrous of contests…”

Aoki said such things in a teasing tone while taking Dorian’s bridle for Miki, who stood frozen in an awkward stance, unable to approach the horse.

Miki wiped the sweat from his forehead with his arm, discarded his jacket, and closed his eyes to become a man on horseback. And he, deep in his heart, "Even if I die, it won't matter. Like Actaeon—"

he resolved. “As long as you stay mounted without resisting, Dorian will surely set off on his own to follow his mistress. So you just need to focus on not falling off—that should suffice.”

Aoki also provided such instructions. “Well, when it comes to Dorian, I’m confident. I’m fine. At this rate, even at full speed, I’ll make a splendid jockey.” Miki, after resigning himself, made such boasts and immediately tried to depart by shaking the reins, but Dorian showed no sign of starting to move. Like a wooden horse, he simply stood frozen in place, staring fixedly ahead. “Giddyup, giddyup!” Miki groaned in a deep, authoritative voice, but it had no effect—Miki, growing frantic, kicked the horse’s flank. But Dorian merely gave a dull blink and still did not move.

“Exactly like a bronze statue.” “Your face too—with that exaggeratedly stern look—actually appears quite strong. You really do look like a soldier.” Aoki laughed, but Miki—feigning deafness—kept urgently trying to start; yet Dorian remained motionless as though transformed into a genuine bronze statue. “What’s wrong?” “Is Dorian feeling unwell?” Miki asked Aoki with a look of confusion and apparent helplessness.

“He probably won’t start moving unless he hears his mistress’s whistle.” “In any case, Dorian is so accustomed to Yukiko in ways others can scarcely imagine that even without his mistress present before him, he remains a horse loyal enough to await her command.” “This is a problem!” Miki inadvertently let out a sigh and looked up at the sky—yet Yukiko, who by all accounts should have already reached the distant hill, was concealed in the shade of a tree right beside him. Holding her breath to avoid being noticed by Miki, she took aim and hurled a hard orange toward him with all her might. It struck Dorian’s flank—then the horse let out a light whinny and abruptly began galloping down the hill. Miki lurched and involuntarily clung to Dorian’s mane.

IV

Dorian galloped headlong down the gently undulating slope all the way to the mulberry fields below. Then veered widely around the edge of the tobacco field. Miki had absolutely no idea what was happening. Trembling with dreadful anxiety as though riding a locomotive whose driver had slipped off mid-gallop, he clung to Dorian’s back.

But Miki thought that Aoki, watching from the hilltop, must believe he had discovered Yukiko’s figure and was chasing after it—and furthermore, what a remarkably bold rider he was! Must be marveling at his bold riding—and indulged in such self-satisfied delusions.

Even so—how swiftly Dorian ran! Could he have gone mad? “Then—that means I must call for help—” Or could Yukiko’s figure have appeared ahead? At this speed they’d surely catch up instantly—Miki thought this while timidly peering forward through the mane’s gaps—but far from seeing Yukiko’s form there was only tobacco fields churning like raging waves before him; no chance whatsoever remained for searching.

Since Dorian was galloping, Yukiko must surely have been ahead—they would catch up to her any moment now... Miki clung to Dorian’s back, letting the horse run wild while he held his breath. To distract himself from fear, he vividly imagined the joy of reaching Yukiko.—Around them stretched endless tobacco fields. The stalks stood taller than a man, their fan-like leaves spreading wide enough that even if he managed to catch her here and press a burning kiss to her cheek, the watchful judge atop the hill would never spot them. How would Yukiko receive such boldness?

Miki buried his face in the mane and fantasized about marrying Yukiko.—Dorian, having circled the tobacco field, began ascending toward the hill once more. From the hilltop, the sound of a whistle rang out. Abruptly, Dorian halted halfway up the slope.

“Mr. Miki—”

When Miki raised his face at Yukiko’s voice, there she stood properly on the same hilltop beside Aoki. And the two of them smiled as if pitying him. “Before you knew it, you’d ended up back there.” “Alright, I’ll go catch you now.”

Miki put on a bold front. "I've been right here from the very beginning, signaling to Dorian." "My voice carries all the way down from here, so Dorian was entirely at my command." "Didn't you notice anything, Mr. Miki?" Miki burned with frustration yet remained powerless, flushing crimson as he tried to advance up the hill—only for Dorian to refuse movement under his reins once more. When Yukiko blew her whistle and gestured, Dorian charged up the slope without pause.

“Ah, I’m parched. I’ll eat an orange.” Miki muttered listlessly and bit into the sour orange, gritting his teeth.

V

It was already orange season again this year. Miki recalled that foolish-seeming incident from a year ago—from that time—and smiled bitterly.

Even though it was close enough to reach by a little over two hours by train, why had I not visited even once in a year? Yukiko apparently went up to Tokyo now and then to visit her sister there, but I was always out at work; when I thought about it, I hadn't seen her even once since that Dorian commotion... When he thought this, Miki found himself unable to imagine any form of Yukiko other than the one he had associated with Diana at that time. Only the impression of that fiercely gallant Yukiko remained as clearly as a photograph.

By now, Miki had gained considerable confidence with horses. Motivated by that past failure, he had returned to Tokyo and promptly joined a suburban riding club, undergoing considerable training—something he wanted to boast about to Aoki and the others.

Miki, constantly checking his watch, finally finished his day’s work at the company and boarded the train. A full thirty minutes before arriving at N Station, the sun had completely set, and the lights of night fishing boats could be seen from the window. At N Station, Aoki was waiting. The moment Aoki saw Miki’s face,

“That girl Yukiko went off to Tokyo saying she’d be back by evening, but she still hasn’t returned.” “She’s been so obsessed with primping herself lately, it’s ridiculous.”

“Well then, let’s wait for the next train in front of the station.”

“We’ve had Dorian working as a carriage horse lately—brought him along over there and all.”

When Miki looked in the direction Aoki pointed, Dorian stood quietly tethered to what appeared to be a lightweight two-wheeled cart. From here to Aoki’s village stretched a lonesome road following a stream—one that would require traveling upstream some three *ri*.

The two decided to wait for Yukiko at the station-front café. They laughed at how each had become quite the drinker during their time apart and raised their glasses of Western liquor. Miki praised the recent works of Aoki, the novelist, from various aspects. “There was talk of selling Dorian—is that true?” “Of course it’s true.” “But you see, she ended up returning to Yukiko’s side from the new owner’s place before anyone knew it.” “The owner got angry and came to call off the deal, but…”

“Was the buyer the Village Headman’s Son?” “Well… Yukiko hates him most of all—”

For some reason, Aoki started to say something but then changed the subject— “I’ve been thinking I want to move to Tokyo myself before long. And before long, Yukiko and I might have to rent some small house together and slip into a life that feels like continuing our student days indefinitely.” “That’s the opposite!”

Miki shouted. "I truly want you to properly complete your work here in the countryside." "Is that so?"

Aoki was always honest.

“I don’t care where, but Yukiko…” At that moment, the next train arrived, so the two interrupted their conversation and went outside. Before they knew it, Aoki had become unexpectedly drunk, his legs so unsteady he needed Miki’s shoulder for support. Miki raised his voice in a sentimental tone, “Aoki, what’s the matter? Get a grip!” he blurted out.

VI

An anecdote about Dorian’s sale—rumors concerning the Village Headman’s son—Aoki’s somber expression…. Miki imagined that all these things likely meant an unfortunate marriage proposal had arisen around Yukiko—but since Aoki never attempted to speak proactively about it, Miki too held back. By the ticket gate, the two stood waiting for Yukiko to emerge. “Because there are no buses or taxis at night, I always have to come pick up my sister like this.”

“However, the road from here to your village feels most suitable for a carriage drive—riding back and forth through that scenery at a leisurely pace is supremely romantic. It’s always been one of my greatest pleasures in coming here.” “For us regulars, it’s utterly devoid of charm…” Aoki began to say,

“What’s this—dragging your feet like some slug? Hey, Yukiko!”

he called out.

Then, several yards past the ticket gate, a woman in a pure white half-coat—her gait exceedingly stylish—raised her arm in response to Aoki’s call and came running over. Even when she drew near, Miki could scarcely believe it was Yukiko. As for this woman in Western attire—he had noticed her when she disembarked from the train, but— “It’s been a while…”

Yukiko greeted Miki, her face slightly flushed.

“I didn’t recognize you at all!”

Miki saw that Yukiko’s eyelashes, carefully brushed with mascara, appeared damp. He saw that her Western-style understated makeup, precisely because it was meant to appear understated, had actually been applied with meticulous artifice. At the exposed décolletage visible from her coat’s collar, he saw a chic birthstone brooch. Miki felt that his own thoughts—indulging in such childish reminiscences without knowing Yukiko had grown into such an impressive lady, and imagining that if he were to visit today they would go out to the fields and mountains together just like before—were terribly rude.

"Why—like this—I can't even brush my fingertips against a cheek—" As this thought struck Miki in his distraction, he was suddenly overwhelmed by an odd sense of jealousy.

“I’ve gotten strangely drunk. Let’s save the proper talk for after we get home. Till then, I’m gonna catch some Z’s in the carriage.”

Aoki, having said that, pulled the blanket over himself and flopped down onto the rear seat of the carriage.

“Tsk!” Yukiko clicked her tongue. “I thought I could go home all dignified, but now I’m being made to drive? Mr. Miki—have you gotten used to horses lately?” “Was it last year?—when I had that awful ordeal for your sake, Miss Yukiko—After that, in sheer frustration, I joined a riding club and all, so at least my fear of horses is gone now.” “Then you drive.”

“Is the whip under the seat?” “You mustn’t use a whip or anything like that.—How pitiable Dorian would be—wouldn’t he? Then I’ll join you on the driver’s seat—I can act as the whip instead.” Miki took the reins with Yukiko beside him, and when Yukiko lightly tapped the floor with the tip of her boot, the carriage quickly started moving.

VII “No matter how many times they tried to keep Dorian, he would escape from the Village Headman’s stable—wasn’t that the story?” When I heard it, I found myself strangely delighted—but the moment I began recounting it, Yukiko abruptly interjected: “That’s about my marriage, you know.” She muttered with evident dissatisfaction.

Miki should not have been particularly surprised, as he had already imagined this— “Marriage?!” He realized that his own voice—the one he’d reflexively shot back with—was terribly flustered and high-pitched.

The carriage moved along the moonlit highway at a moderate pace, tracing the stream.—Whenever they encountered young people in groups of two or three, most would call from the opposite direction— “Returning home now, Miss?” they would say. “Yes—the village headman’s son—though honestly, he’s what I loathe most—no, more precisely, the old-fashioned delinquent I scorn above all else.”

According to Yukiko’s account, a debt remained from a joint business venture between Aoki’s late father and the village headman’s household. And when Yukiko refused the marriage proposal, they would impose various obligations related to that debt. “I found it all so utterly absurd that I ended up acting a bit spiteful.” “And—if there’s such an obligation between us, then I simply can’t refuse now, can I? Though really, I only declined because I still think such matters are too soon for me—” I said while staring fixedly at the son’s face. “Then that son of his—get this—puts on this super serious face and goes, ‘Between you and me—’!” “What do you mean, ‘you and me’?!” “So there I was, suppressing my temper and acting all meek—when he goes, ‘Such formalities aren’t necessary’—dismissing it in this ridiculous professional storyteller’s tone. I had to struggle to hold back my laughter though……” “Exactly—it was right around then. When I returned from Tokyo on that train—though I never asked how he knew—the son came to meet me properly with Dorian’s carriage—…At that moment, I almost ended up getting kissed by that guy, you know.”

“A kiss?!” “And how did you escape?” Miki asked again, his chest quivering. “Well you see, momentum can be truly terrifying—the whole chain of events felt so vivid it might’ve been staged… The son seemed to have gotten single-mindedly excited without any sense of propriety, and suddenly he was pressing down on my chest right here in this seat—but just as I swiftly pulled back, that man went ‘Whoa!’ “No sooner had he shouted than he went sailing past the front of my chest and right into...”

Yukiko pointed at the stream nearby, “He went and plunged headfirst right into the river! With a tremendous splash—a fearsome water sound resounded through the darkness—”

Having said that, she let out a piercing whistle and quickened the carriage’s pace. Miki peered down beside the carriage by the light and saw that directly beneath the wheel ruts lay a stream of considerable depth, its surface glinting under the moonlight.

VIII

At what seemed like full speed, the carriage was racing along the edge of the stream.

“At twice this speed, I fled without looking back.” According to Yukiko’s account, not long after that, lawyers and bailiffs began frequently coming and going through the Aoki family’s gate. One day, two men who looked like horse traders were intently appraising Dorian in front of the Aoki family’s stable, so Yukiko, feeling displeased, inquired— “Don’t you know? We’ve come to take Dorian—on the Village Headman’s orders—”

“So Dorian was purchased by the Village Headman’s household then?” Yukiko asked.

“Of course.” “Who did you purchase him from?” “Miss, you’re quite nonchalant. “This didn’t come from anyone at all.” “To put it plainly—ha ha ha—we ‘acquired’ him from your father. Though ‘purchased’ isn’t quite accurate—more like a token toward settling the loan’s interest. That’s the gist of it.” “Do whatever you like.”

Yukiko indignantly withdrew to her room and watched from the window. When one of the horse traders tried to lead Dorian out through the gate by his reins—forgetting herself—Yukiko blew her sharpest whistle reserved solely for him. At once Dorian loosed a piercing cry and reared violently on his hind legs. The trader’s face paled as he lunged to restrain him but faltered before that fearsome intensity—for now those hooves threatened both men. Instead of yielding,the beast turned pursuer. They fled headlong into darkness.

However, when Yukiko went to check at the stable the next morning, Dorian’s figure was nowhere to be seen. Yet Yukiko remained composed due to her confidence; having unusually attired herself in riding clothes with calmness, she ventured out for a stroll while tapping her long boots with the tip of her whip. Yukiko was rather cheerful this time around.

When she stepped out onto the main street and suddenly looked ahead, she saw the Village Headman and his son riding in a carriage charging through the morning mist. Though it was only a back view, Yukiko recognized at first glance that it was Dorian. Yukiko stealthily followed the carriage while muffling her footsteps. The Village Headman and his son seemed to be heading toward the neighboring town walking shoulder to shoulder in amicable harmony. “Good morning, Village Headman—” Yukiko called out from behind in this manner. At the same moment, the carriage came to an abrupt halt. “Miss Yuki!”

The Village Headman and his son simultaneously urged Yukiko to ride with them. With an air of feigned ignorance about everything— “There’s something I’d really like to buy for you—why don’t you ride along with us to town?” “Father says he wants to buy you a ring and necklace. In fact, we went out this morning to buy it. Perfect timing—let’s go together.”

The Village Headman and his son were earnestly urging Yukiko to accompany them with honeyed words.

“Was the diving the other night enjoyable?” Since the son’s attitude felt so transparently false, Yukiko found herself thinking—perhaps she should ask him something like this…

IX

However, Yukiko—needless to say—declined the invitation to accompany them. “I only came out for a short stroll—and being dressed like this, I meant to go borrow a horse from relatives across the river. Honestly, I’ve grown tired of Dorian, so this time I thought I’d get one from uncle’s place...” Yukiko intended to speak with sarcasm. And she stated this with as bright a smile as she could muster to feign nonchalance, but—

“Dorian? I’ve already—” she began, but an unbearable sadness surged up, choking her throat. “Goodbye—” she flung over her shoulder, hastily turning on her heel to retreat. She had been running half-unconsciously for some time when from behind— “Hey! Miss Yuki! Wait!” “I can’t go with you!” “I’ve other urgent matters—” “Turn Dorian around!” “This is no good! Hey! Hey!”

Hearing such shouts, when she turned to look, Dorian—still carrying the Village Headman and his son—had properly turned the carriage’s direction this way and was obediently following along, walking when Yukiko walked and running when she ran. Yukiko’s chest was filled with both sadness and joy. If it had been only Dorian, I would have clung to his face and wept. —and unstoppable tears began to spill down Yukiko’s cheeks. —Yukiko broke into a sprint.

The carriage also broke into a sprint.

“Hey, wait…” “I’m going to jump down, so stop for a second!” “We’ll miss the train!” “Dangerous! We can’t keep up if you run like that! Miss Yuki! Help me!” On the carriage, the Village Headman and his son—in half-crazed states—stood up straight, fell back on their hips, and desperately called for Yukiko to return, but Yukiko found herself compelled to keep running at full speed even harder.

The people working the fields looked down from the terraced hillside at the commotion that had erupted on the quiet morning road, wondering if the Village Headman and his son were pursuing Yukiko in an attempt to take her for themselves? They misread it as such. And a few young men immediately rushed to report to the Aoki household.

Rounding the sacred grove at the bridge where the Aoki household came into view, Yukiko encountered her brother, who had rushed there with three young men. The Village Headman’s carriage also came to an abrupt halt right behind Yukiko.

The Village Headman—whose hat had been blown off along the way—now merely expanded and contracted his toad-like rounded back while slumped over the seat in violent gasps. The son was at a loss for how to explain things. Seemingly perplexed, he descended from the carriage and stared vacantly up at the sky; upon noticing a water channel nearby, he helped his father down and offered him water. Everyone was silent. Yukiko too had become utterly flustered and found herself at a loss for explanations, so when she hastily broke into a run toward her home, Dorian followed obediently behind like her very shadow, the empty carriage's wheels clattering noisily.

Since then, the Village Headman’s household seemed to have abandoned their attempts to embezzle Dorian—but—

X Miki heard this tale of a commotion laced with much absurdity from Yukiko atop a carriage clattering along a moonlit night road with carefree ease, but he couldn’t bring himself to laugh at all. “Just like that, Dorian came back to me along with this carriage—but this carriage belongs to the Village Headman’s household.” “They must have thought it would be awkward to take back just the carriage, so they haven’t come to reclaim it since.—And then, there was another really funny thing that happened at the time.” “…Since this wasn’t working, the Village Headman said, ‘Fine, we’ll just return Dorian for now,’ so we unhitched Dorian from the carriage, and I told them, ‘Please take the carriage back.’ Then his son goes, ‘Alright, I’ll just pull it myself!’ and grabbed the shaft where the horse should’ve been hitched—but no matter how strong you are, a human can’t replace a horse!” “It wouldn’t budge an inch!” “‘Then we’ll just have the two of us pull it!’ the Village Headman snapped in frustration. He and his son each grabbed an end of the shaft and tried to drag it out, but it was utterly hopeless. Ha ha ha… Everyone burst out laughing despite themselves.” “Then, the Village Headman and his son—seemingly wounded in their pride—turned bright red and withdrew, leaving behind a dramatic parting line: ‘Just you wait—we’ll *definitely* take back Dorian along with everything else—!’” “At the time, I didn’t hear it myself, but they were apparently saying something like, ‘We intend to take Yukiko along with the carriage, so you’d best be prepared!’”

Yukiko kept laughing in amused reminiscence until it seemed unbearable, while Miki, his ears intently fixed on Dorian's hoofbeats, spoke in a reverent tone as if overwhelmed with admiration: "Miss Yuki and Dorian are precisely like Diana and her guardian hounds," he murmured. "That's no joke," she said. "But... when I think that if I were to marry into some household, Dorian would inevitably have to come along..."

“I could never manage city life.” Miki muttered in a lonely-sounding voice.

“That’s right. If Dorian weren’t here, I’d want to go to Tokyo even starting tomorrow.” “Even when I go out to play, I come rushing back like this because Dorian weighs on my mind…” What Miki had intended to mutter in his heart suddenly floated to the tip of his mouth. “Diana’s guardian hounds exist to protect her eternal virginity…” “Huh?” “If it can be told, then go tell others—that you saw Diana’s naked form—I just recalled those words.”

“What’s gotten into you, Mr. Miki—” “Is that a line from a play?” “As long as Dorian exists here, no one could ever tempt you away, Miss Yuki! When I realized that—somehow—I suddenly felt so cheerful! Just now! Isn’t this exhilarating?”

Miki suddenly declared such things in a loud voice— “Let’s dash! Let’s dash!” So saying, he shook the reins vigorously. “If I were to marry, it would have to be into a household with a stable. The only household with a stable is the Village Headman’s.”

Yukiko said such things as if singing a playful tune.

XI

"What in the world should I do?" When I think of Yukiko, I can't help but feel gloomy. If we keep dawdling like this in the village, Yukiko might end up having to go to the Village Headman’s household after all—Yukiko does possess that degree of sacrificial devotion toward Dorian… "But that would make Yukiko far too pitiable."

Bathed in the bright morning sun, Miki and Aoki were on their way to the mandarin orange hill for a stroll when Aoki tilted his head with a strange, bitter smile. The hill was covered with mandarin orange trees that were just beginning to take on color across the entire area. Miki was deeply nostalgic for how the scenery and the surrounding area were tinged with the exact same hues as when he visited a year ago. Miki, at a loss for how to respond to Aoki’s concerns, casually reached out to pluck an orange from a tree.—Could he ever own a house with a stable? he wondered, mocking his own selfish, petty fantasies even as he dreamed of somehow obtaining such a home—one with a stable.

“This is such an absurd worry that I can’t talk to anyone about it, but since I clearly understand Yukiko’s feelings, I’m at my wit’s end.” “Far from absurd—it’s a serious incident, isn’t it?”

Miki, lost to himself, bit into a bitter orange.

“When I picture Yukiko being inexorably compelled to leave for another land and imagine that moment of departure, a scene of such poignantly tragic grandeur—worthy of a Greek drama—rises before my eyes.”

Aoki began to speak but caught his breath deeply. ...Yukiko leans halfway out from the train window, naked Dorian gallops along the road running alongside the railway, the horse's speed gradually matching the train's acceleration... The clatter of wheels and thunder of hoofbeats... "Dorian will keep running until he collapses... My sister will watch him collapse from the train window... Will you get off at the next station then?" "And I ask Yukiko whenever that topic comes up." "Of course I'll get off"—Yukiko answers—"and so it's become routine for all our discussions about personal matters to collapse completely." "It wasn't just imagination—the exact same incident had occurred a mere month before." "When Dorian collapsed and was tended to by Yukiko, he instantly revived... In the end, Yukiko sacrificed even romance and has been living with Dorian ever since."

“Was there a romantic incident?” “Since it’s something worth sacrificing for, it’s platonic, but…” “She set out to meet her lover, didn’t she?”

“Hmm, but Dorian simply won’t leave her side. Even if she sneaks out, Yukiko being Yukiko can’t stay away once night falls—it’s such an unfortunate thing, I tell you.” “What’s the lover’s name?” Miki impatiently stared into Aoki’s eyes. “…………” “And this fortunate man you speak of—?” “Do you think he’s happy?” Aoki took Miki’s hand with his hot hand and groaned sorrowfully. “If you can call that happiness, then you’re free to imagine yourself as the name of that faintly platonic partner who’d give up over something as trivial as a horse.”

XII

“I wonder if Miss Yuki got upset because we’ve been talking only about ourselves and went out somewhere—she hasn’t been seen since morning—” “No, she’s the sort who couldn’t resist taking Dorian out for a ride even when her father died, as long as the weather was fine.” “With the horse race approaching, she’s been spending until evening at the racetrack these days.” “If I were to become a jockey and compete—” “We don’t enter Dorian in actual races, but during practice—” “Once we cross this mountain, it’s the racetrack—shall we go see?”

“Alright, I’ll borrow a horse too and try racing against Miss Yuki.” “There’s simply no chance of winning against that—after all, even the jockeys are that intimidated by him…”

Aoki and Miki crossed over the hill, their conversation revolving mainly around Yukiko and Dorian.

From behind came someone calling Aoki’s name—when they looked, it was the Village Headman’s son accompanied by a horse. “I bought this one to replace Dorian this time. “I’ve been coming to the training grounds every day to practice—Dorian’s no match for me now. “Miss Yuki’s positively green with envy. “This one’s leagues beyond those cart-pulling nags!” Though its coat remained hidden beneath a gown, the son proudly declared these things while leading his horse past them.

It was a racetrack in a bowl-shaped basin, as viewed from atop the hill. About ten horses were out on the racetrack, intensely practicing their racing. “Miss Yuki doesn’t seem to be here, does she?”

Miki borrowed binoculars and peered down. Both the jockeys and horses appeared the size of toys when viewed from the hill.

“I wonder if she’s not here?” Aoki also searched intently. Before long, “Ah, there she is!” “The Village Headman’s son went up to her side and was saying something while indicating his prized horse—” “He’s trying to get Miss Yuki to ride his own horse.”

“I can’t tell. Let’s go down a bit further to see.” “The one in the maroon shirt is Yukiko.” “Is she wearing a hunting cap?” “She’s always dressed like that whenever she comes here. Because looking like a woman would cause problems—” The maroon-clad jockey seemed to defy the son’s words and broke away, wholly absorbed in solo starting practice. Miki, who had almost no knowledge of horse racing, couldn’t help but watch in awe at how freely it galloped and how strikingly smart its movements were. The other jockeys also began observing in unison when she started her warm-up.

“No matter how I look at it, I can’t bring myself to believe that’s Miss Yuki.” “For one thing, she doesn’t look like a woman at all.” “From here you can even make out her face—do look carefully through the glasses as she comes galloping this way.” “Though truth be told, her usual face changes in a strange way when she’s racing Dorian—” “I truly envy just that state she reaches—the wonder of that trance-like state seeps into my very bones.” “One can hardly blame them for thinking there’s nothing but Dorian…”

Even so, Miki could not bring himself to believe that the jockey was Yukiko. He pressed the telescope to both eyes with single-minded focus, driven solely by the earnest desire to peer into a fantasy world where he had become the master of a house with a stable.