Discover Japan's stories—across time, across language.

| Original Title | 秋晴れの日 |
|---|---|
| Author | 牧野 信一 |
| Genre | Modern Short Fiction |
| Author Type | Male Author |
| Summary | A man’s mornings begin with violent retching—a ritual born of alcohol’s grip, performed with grotesque theatrics that unsettle his family. His four-year-old son mimics the convulsions, while his wife oscillates between pity and contempt, her patience frayed by years of hollow promises to quit. Haunted by inadequacies—a lifelong inability to swim, a timid aversion to travel—he masks shame with sarcasm, deflecting concern with claims of needing “intense exercise.” Summer’s heat amplifies his unraveling: neighbors gawk at his barbaric gargling, friends mock his fragility, and even attempts at domestic order crumble. Autumn arrives, but sobriety remains elusive. His self-loathing festers into cruelty, lashing out at those closest to him. Yet glimmers of longing persist—for mountain solitude, athletic redemption, a self untainted by weakness. As relationships strain under the weight of his denial, the question lingers: Is this a man spiraling toward ruin or grasping, however clumsily, for redemption? The answer lies in the quiet spaces between his agonized cries and the brittle hope flickering beneath them. |