Pathway to Japanese Literature

Volume One

There was a dignified lawyer called Mukuhara Komei.
He was said to have lived in a certain attic—but for those ill-natured readers who might indignantly protest that Tokyo has no European-style boarding-house attics to speak of: BON!
If I were to say instead that he lived in a basement, it would make no difference to me—after all, a dignified law office would not normally be located in a basement or attic. Yet the dignified lawyer Mukuhara Komei did in fact live in an attic (or rather, a basement), and that is all there is to the story.

Now, Mr. Mukuhara Komei—that dignified lawyer—had begun struggling with fundraising for three thousand yen due to some unsettled circumstance (—or so I think, though whether it was truly unsettled matters not one whit to me—), a sum so large that merely hearing it made one's body tremble.
Three thousand yen!

Those readers wishing to learn what manner of unsettled circumstance this was have mistaken their course.
Imagine, dear readers, your own heroic figure should you personally undertake fundraising—holding forth eloquently on why money must be had; generally speaking, reasons for borrowing prove no truer than excuses for debt.
In short, the unvarnished truth is this: money is needed now!
That alone suffices for the tale—as for the rest, let each exercise their own vigorous imagination.
Thus did Mr. Mukuhara Komei—that dignified lawyer—begin feeling his body waste away through sorrow in his three thousand yen quest—a story to make hairs stand erect at its mere telling.

All efforts had come to naught!
There was no sadder story than this.
Yet—herein lay an unfortunate truth—it appeared that not every last one of you, dear readers of this tale (though at times this seemed an unbelievable reality), could be counted among those steel-forged warriors tempered by fundraising's trials—trials that, even when surmounted, would soon bring new ones to throttle you!
For those few such readers, I now ventured—out of a morsel of meddlesome concern—to provide this superfluous explanation: this extraordinary courage demanded by fundraising!
(The total mental energy required often stirred suspicion that it had surpassed even the sum total of one's own reserves.) Ah!
This monstrous surge of valor, by its very fated nature, tended toward an ill-starred demise—dissolving into mere bubbles.
Yet despite this, such extraordinary valor had not been required even by the fierce warriors of Hiyodorigoe!
Nor by Columbus of Genoa!
Indeed, not even Iwasaki Yataro—he who ascended to Edo with nothing but his bare resolve—had possessed valor of this magnitude! Behold, dear readers! For through this lens you might see how such peculiar valor could overthrow the arrogant Heike, effortlessly discover the American continent—indeed, indeed!
Not only that—ah!—but even amassing vast fortunes proved as simple as twisting a babe's arm! And yet—alas!
Achieving fundraising's aim remained utterly impossible!
Truly impossible!
Absolutely impossible!
Resolutely impossible it was.

Fundraising.
This was akin to leaping into a mousetrap devised by every demon in existence.
One must believe that rashly convincing oneself it was mere mortal endeavor lay at the root of error.

The dignified lawyer Mr. Mukuhara Komei had, needless to say, spared no effort in lavishly expending every ounce of effort, perseverance, and self-control that transcended human endeavor.
Yet everything had cleanly dissolved into bubbles.
And so our story begins here—but before embarking on its main thread, I must add a somewhat superfluous digression for those exceedingly few readers (though at times I grow doubtful of this truth—) to briefly outline the state of Mr. Mukuhara Komei's efforts, perseverance, and self-control—endeavors so extraordinary they scarcely seemed human.
Such matters made one's heart tremble even before reading them; eyes longed to turn away; if possible, one would wish to rip the book to shreds.
This was the agony of being flayed alive! Unbearable!
And yet, as for me—forced to write of such matters in such meticulous detail—I had no idea what karmic retribution this was!

The Resolute State of Mind and Dignified, Unassailable Demeanor of Mr. Mukuhara Komei During His First Fundraising Visit, Among Other Matters.
——

In the case of anyone undertaking fundraising, it was likely much the same: when selecting this tense first target of their efforts—needless to say, one chose the individual most likely to lend money, someone sufficiently approachable to broach an awkward request without reservation (and consequently, when refused, one needn’t feel beholden!), in short, precisely the sort of reliable person of whom there existed but one or two on this entire earth.

It was akin to a mere stepping stone in the daunting enterprise called fundraising—a rejection here cost no emotional toll, leaving one oddly buoyed by an optimistic ease, for the true, grueling army lay ahead! In other words, one harbored such grand aspirations toward a boundless future that—the very act of visiting the First Person became an ineffably refreshing endeavor, so much so that a hummed tune escaped one’s lips along the way—all while brimming with an unparalleled, exhilarating resolve to conquer the foe even before battle commenced.

However, when he finally met with the First Person—dear Buddha! There, he was met with an unexpectedly straightforward rejection (—no—utterly unexpected!). No matter how much he had steeled himself, he never imagined he’d face rejection! Then, one unforeseen shift in his mental state after another began to surge forth. First and foremost, he found himself utterly bewildered. Ah, he concluded that all was now lost. Now, upon reflection, he found himself enslaved by an utterly absurd pessimism—as if someone like the First Person could exist in duplicate on this earth. The very notion of gazing grandly toward a boundless future now provoked such lawless fury—"To hell with that spirit!"—that it left him beyond words with wretchedness.

Mr. Mukuhara Komei, the dignified lawyer, was an innately optimistic man by nature.
Such a man was what one might call a true stalwart.
A man of such splendid mettle would never trouble himself with needless fretting over neurotic thoughts that leapt ahead of their station; having been refused, he had no time whatsoever to anticipate the unforeseen deterioration of his mental state—thus he remained genuinely cheerful and nearly happy.
Needless to say, with the fierce resolve of one who had already vanquished a great foe before battle commenced, he swept into the First Person’s residence in a manner dashing to all eyes.

When he planted himself abruptly at the entrance, before even requesting to be shown in, a booming “3,000 yen!” erupted from the depths of his gut and thudded against the crown of his skull with such force that it seemed to reverberate.
“I’ve got an unbelievably stubborn, combative, and valiant fellow deep in my gut,” the dignified lawyer muttered with apparent confidence.
It was as if the 3,000 yen had clad itself in armor and helmet and was sitting imposingly in the depths of his gut.
At this, Mr. Mukuhara Komei pressed the doorbell with extreme calmness.

The First Person appeared with a grin.
This man was always in good spirits.
Such a perpetually cheerful man was perfectly suited for trivial matters, making him exceedingly inconvenient when needing to broach difficult subjects.
No opening could be found to make the approach.
Yet Mr. Mukuhara Komei’s combative fervor only intensified—not only did he remain utterly unfazed by his adversary’s smiling countenance, but compared to his usual visits, he displayed neither composure nor restraint.
At this, Mr. Mukuhara Komei began speaking with reckless abandon, wholly disregarding his listener.

“To get straight to the point—I need three thousand yen. Lend me three thousand yen.”

He first declared this clearly.

“Lend me three thousand yen!”

He let out another guttural growl in quick succession.

3,000 yen!
3,000 yen!
3,000 yen!
And there, in his throat, in his fists, in his knees, a great flood of 3,000 yen began to overflow.
Words are such inconvenient things—no matter how urgently one tries, they emerge only one at a time. Yet there he was, the dignified lawyer Mukuhara Komei, beginning to froth with a spray of words in his agitation.
In other words, he began to expound in meticulous detail—drunk as if maddened by an abundance of fervor—on how and in what manner the 3,000 yen was needed, how under urgent circumstances it had become an indispensable necessity verging on a life-or-death imperative.
It was an outcome utterly beyond anticipation.
The span of five-plus minutes gushed forth like overflowing water—wildly, words and fervor and composure (no—utterly! Even composure!) came streaming out.
Despite his intense excitement, it was his exceedingly calm calculations that adjusted his demeanor as needed.
He put on a serious face.
At times, he would assume a composed, bitter smile (Yes! It was most certainly not a smile!).
At times, he was filled with passion.
At times, he tried to put on a slightly affected air.
At times, he skillfully humbled himself.
This was nothing less than supreme art where artifice and nature converged—had it not been for the sole case of fundraising, even Flaubert would never have immersed himself in such a realm.

The triumphant buoyancy of having finished his speech! Mr. Komei involuntarily let out a sigh of relief and observed the other’s reaction like a predator scrutinizing prey in its grasp.—And there was no reply. There was not the slightest hint of a response. A wooden statue, a millstone, a toad, an owl, an anglerfish...

“It’s just a bit—” Mr. Komei thought, shuddering. “I suppose I got carried away and spoke too quickly—is that why they couldn’t catch what I was saying? I can’t think of any other reason...”

At this, Mr. Mukuhara Komei burned with courage that flashed like a spark and, taking care to maintain more than enough composure this time, meticulously repeated the same plea in an orderly sequence.

It was the precise moment when his second plea had reached its conclusion.

“Ah, twice is more than enough,” the First Person said without a hint of panic.

“3,000 yen! Ah! If that money were in my pocket right now! I’d rush straight to Kabutocho! Damn it! Even though you know full well about the profits…”

The First Person continued his account with utmost calmness.

“3,000 yen! Even if you were turned upside down, not a drop of blood would come from your nose—that’s what this is about. No sooner do I make a little profit last month than this month brings double the loss. For the past four or five days, I’ve been wanting to kill myself about five times a day. I can’t take this!”

“This isn’t a joke! You don’t have a paltry three thousand yen?!”

Mr. Mukuhara Komei was taken aback, then shouted in a confrontational tone with a loud voice tinged with flustered panic, as if to dispel his own astonishment.

“Cut the jokes already! I’m down to the wire here—I really need three thousand yen! Hey, lend me three thousand yen! It’s just three thousand yen! Just three thousand yen—”

“You call this a joke? What an astounding tale this is! I’m about to kill myself! Look at these sunken cheeks of mine! Look at these sunken eyes! Ah! For two whole weeks now, I haven’t slept a wink at night! All I think about every single day is killing myself! Poison? Hanging? Or vanish like dew on the railway tracks…”

“Oh, come now—that’s not something you—” Frustrated by his inability to outright refute the other’s words, Mr. Mukuhara Komei violently shook both hands and writhed in agony.

“That’s not something you—anyway, that’s fine!”
“Anyway, I’m talking about 3,000 yen—”

“So you see, even if you were turned upside down and shaken, not a drop would come from your nose—that’s the state I’m in.”

“This isn’t a joke! Just three thousand yen! I really need it!”

Mukuhara Komei stood up in a state of complete agitation. Still agitated, he rushed out of the First Person’s residence. The mock-refreshing yet fiercely roused vigor of his spirit was so splendid that even his previous dignified bearing paled in comparison—as if he were now truly setting out to raise funds! It appeared so courageously splendid that one might think he was finally embarking on his real fundraising mission.

“This isn’t a joke! Just three thousand yen! I really need it, I tell you!”

After bursting out into the street, he shouted with a voice far more impassioned than his cries inside the room—so violently it seemed his throat might tear apart.
Had one heard that ghastly scream, even those slowest to comprehend could not have helped but keenly realize—*Ah, Mr. Mukuhara Komei is indeed in dire need of three thousand yen at this very moment!*
And so Mr. Mukuhara Komei began walking down the street, continuing to mutter that same cry as though he were still holding meetings with various people inside various residences.

“Cut the jokes already!”
“I really… just three thousand yen…”

However, from Mr. Mukuhara Komei’s stubborn muttering，both strength and passion gradually began to drain away．
Not only did strength drain from his muttering，but it completely drained from his entire body—from his walking legs，his hips，his lower back，his neck，all the way to the hollows around his eyes．
It seemed he was about to flop down limply onto the road at any moment．

“This isn’t a damn joke!”
“I’m telling you, it’s just…”

The moment Mr. Mukuhara Komei barely managed to mutter these words in such a manner was precisely when he had dragged one foot to the station.
At the same time, it was a moment when—well now—the utterly directionless anxiety of Where should I go from here? surged up all at once, and his chest was plunged into total darkness.
And so, the moment he let slip that final mutter—though by now he must have been utterly incapable of any action—he collapsed limply onto a nearby bench without the slightest hesitation. As for the subsequent shifts in his state of mind, they have already been described earlier.

Mr. Mukuhara Komei’s second fundraising visit.

First, it must be stated that for the dignified lawyer Mr. Mukuhara Komei to rekindle his candle-like courage and embark on his second fundraising sortie, he required precisely nine full days—a period of complete inactivity during which he did absolutely nothing.
During that time, Mr. Mukuhara Komei had never felt the profound peace and joy of doing nothing—so deep it seemed bottomless—with such intensity.
For a full nine days, he had spent almost entirely burrowed into his bed, yet he had no memory of ever encountering such tender happiness since the day he was born.

By the time he visited the Second Person, the cheap demon of cowardice had begun to dwell in Mr. Mukuhara Komei’s innards.
The Second Person was a crude, pretentious, smirking bastard.

It was when he finally reached the gate of the Second Person’s residence—what a crude lout! Being an insufferable, smirking simpleton through and through, he suddenly spun around and bolted off with his tail between his legs, not even glancing back. Startled, Mr. Komei cried out, “Wh-where are you going? Wait! My destination isn’t that way!” But in the time it took him to protest, the other had already retreated over a hundred meters. Just when he thought the matter settled, that thick-skinned oaf—with a composed demeanor as if out for a stroll—proceeded to circle the Second Person’s residence in a wide arc. Mr. Komei, thoroughly flustered, was on the verge of tears from the fury welling up inside him—but the smirking fool, that utterly unpleasant little man, merely puffed up sullenly and averted his face. It seemed he simply disliked being reproached.

When he finally managed to meet the Second Person, this individual was on the verge of departing for Osaka due to pressing business.
They say small men are hard to nurture, but that pretentious, smirking Hyōrokudama bastard had gone and made another monumental blunder here.

“What’s this? You have business with me?” Just as the Second Person deftly delivered the crucial line he’d been lying in wait to use—that smirking fool of an upstart!
Pig’s ass!
“No, nothing in particular—heh heh heh,” he blurted out smoothly without giving Mr. Komei a moment to recover from his bewilderment!
To add insult to injury, he then offered a pointless bow at the most unnecessary moment with an “Apologies for disturbing you in your busy schedule—truly, I-I-I...”
It was Mr. Komei who had gone rotten; for no reason at all, he fled to the toilet and let out a sigh like frayed hemp rope.

“In that case—” And with that, the Second Person promptly stood up; got into a car; and went off to Tokyo Station.

Mr. Komei despaired.
Should he take rat poison? Stuff his mouth with a gas pipe? Or should he just throw himself into the river?
It was precisely because such vulgar thoughts had surfaced that—conversely—a miraculous courage now welled up within him (though “overflow” might be overstating it), or perhaps one should say it began to trickle forth.
Thereupon, suddenly solidifying a grand resolution, he hurled himself into a rickshaw with ferocious abandon and rushed to Tokyo Station in that ashen twilight frenzy.

“What the—?! You came to see me off?!” declared the Second Person, his expression one of deep exasperation that seemed to well up from the very core of his being.

“W-well, you see how it is,” Mr. Komei replied, scratching his head with a strained “Heh heh heh.”

Mr. Komei hedged his words and scratched his head, but as the train at last began to move, through sheer force of resolve his blood surged up in a blazing flare—and with a commotion as though three thousand people (three thousand yen!) had all begun clamoring at once, he started waving his fist and shouting while moving alongside the train.

“I wish to borrow three thousand yen!”
“Just say ‘Okay’ and that’s enough!”
“No! Any other words would be a crime!”
“Three thousand yen!”
“I need it!”
“I absolutely need it!”
“Just three thousand yen!”

“Hmm, three thousand yen, is it?
“A trifling sum, that.
“Unfortunately, my purse is currently strained—nay, encountering emotional turmoil, I find myself in a state where I cannot hear the whispers of autumn.
“The desolate autumn wind, the impermanence of all things—alas, it’s truly a most embarrassing state of affairs.
“Bwahahaha!
“Where there are mountains in one place, gold and silver in another—such is their nature by heaven’s decree. There’s naught better than seeking them out at leisure.
“Ah, but humans—staking everything on a single throw to make a thousand pieces of gold—it’s all about guts!
“Ah, but there are times when one’s purse holds coin of its own accord.
“Fret not.
“The Great Balance lacks personal power; all principles naturally converge as a forest indeed.
“Ah, everyone’s troubled by gold and silver.
“Bwahahahaha!
“Rest assured!”

And in the blink of an eye, he was gone, heading off that way. When the tail end of the train vanished, Mr. Komei sighed in relief and turned around. He was drenched in sweat, but well—a crude peace, like that of an owl caught in bewilderment, now flowed through him, having narrowly escaped one calamity. Indeed, when broaching money talks, one rarely encounters such a golden opportunity without lingering consequences—even if actively seeking it out as one’s profession. However, even for the one being refused, an opportunity this heart-purgingly refreshing—a perfect chance to do so—is something only a man blessed with good fortune might encounter but once in his entire lifetime.

The third time, the fourth time, the fifth time… There was no need to recount each one individually.
In short, every single endeavor had ended in failure.
And so, as his failures mounted, Mr. Mukuhara Komei had been sinking ever deeper into the winding, twisting depths of peace—but the story was only just beginning…

Now, it was on one such peaceful day that the dignified lawyer Mukuhara Komei, having awakened to peace itself, suddenly noticed something.
Thoughts of indescribable splendor—so bewitchingly alluring they verged on the uncanny—dangled weightlessly in midair; when they abruptly plopped into his eyeballs, they came to rest within his brain matter.

“Oh!”
He leapt up in shock at his own oversight.
He wondered if it was a dream.
Thereupon, he rubbed his eyes.

“This isn’t a joke!
Enough with the mockery already! This is absurd…”

And he began pacing restlessly around the room—but this was no dream!

“Well, I’ll be damned!”
Why hadn’t I—why had I startled myself like this!
How could I have completely forgotten about this man—someone so readily at hand, someone I thought of all year round—just this once?!
“Ah, I… This is beyond human capability!”

But it wasn’t only Mr. Komei who was startled.
Even I was so astonished I nearly fainted.

The foremost among the First Persons (—yes, absolutely the foremost among the First Persons!)—had he completely forgotten until now that there wasn't even a second such irreplaceable great figure on earth?! The first fundraising attempt should have naturally gone to this person—how baffling that it was directed to others! And behold! Here was an irreplaceable figure on earth, one who would render a second visit entirely unnecessary!

“Gah!
“Damn it!”
“How could I have been so undisciplined!”
“Fool! No matter how flustered I’ve been—how could I have forgotten about such an important friend until now… Tah-hah-hah!
“My head spins!
“I’m going mad!
“My grand wish has been granted!”

Mr. Komei had been in a perilous state for a time due to the sheer intensity of his joy.
Such dangerous joy was something everyone experienced at least once in their youth.
After about three days without sleep, I finally reached my limit and drafted a misanthropic suicide note.

The irreplaceable man lived in the depths of a northern mountain.
Money?
There’s enough of that to rot!
3,000 yen—good grief, what a miserly sum!
Bwahahah!
The irreplaceable man was through and through a flamboyant and refined fellow with a penchant for grandeur.
By nature he grasped elegance intuitively, plumbed humanity’s deepest sentiments, and reigned as a polymath.
Magnanimous yet bold—even when hosting ceaseless visitors for years on end while clutching his wine cup sleeplessly—it was truly astonishing.
He and that dignified lawyer Mr. Mukuhara Komei were bosom friends.
Ah—what more need be said?

The dignified lawyer, Mr. Mukuhara Komei, had not made a pained face over travel expenses.
When it came to speaking the truth, he had not even attempted to make a pained face.
He'd had enough of seeing human faces!
Even the irreplaceable man—though merely imagining such a delightful figure brought happiness—was someone whose face he could no longer bear to gaze upon without shuddering. Some might call this "human epilepsy," but it was of an entirely different breed.
It wasn't a matter of nerves acting up due to the weather, but rather that recalling that shudder would end up altering the very mood itself.
Even if one had no memory of convulsive fits, everyone had felt this shudder in their heart.
Moreover, the dignified lawyer—whether by some quirk of his innate nature—was inept at verbal communication, but (a literary masterpiece for the ages!) he possessed unshakable confidence that once he took up his brush, his writing could vex even demons and gods!
A letter.
When he considered its effect, it had become as clear as if held in his hand that his fundraising could encounter nothing but success.

He composed the letter.
That hands tremble and chests tremble is, after all, something all too common in this world.
There are times when sweat breaks out and a fever flares up.
However, Mr. Mukuhara Komei remained as unshakably serene as a mountain range, immersed in deep contemplation as he roamed freely through the realm of the muse and mobilized every technique and every exquisite turn of phrase at his disposal.
There were no words for it but "perfect."
Even a silver fox that never falls for traps would surely feel compelled to strip off its fur and send its pelt posthaste upon reading such a letter!

He mailed it!
The reason one might think a great war had broken out across the world from that very moment lay in the murderous tension that permeated every place Mr. Mukuhara Komei visited—the bloodshot eyes, the bared torsos, the all-consuming intensity.
He stumbled.
A book fell onto the back; a clock struck the head; a chair dug into the shin.
Picture frames fluttered from wall to wall; a cup over there and a bottle here began to shatter; a fire broke out—one careless move and life was in peril.

Two days passed, three days passed.
When four or five days had passed—Algeria would have five or six million war dead; after a week, all the world’s warships would vanish into the ocean’s depths; after two weeks, the very Earth would meet its end—the letter arrived!

The reply indeed arrived.—

When he picked up the damned letter between two fingers and walked bobbing unsteadily to his desk, first his entire body grew hazy.
His limbs froze with a start, then began trembling uncontrollably against his will.
What was he supposed to do with this letter?
Wherever he put it, it was an eyesore.
The moment he caught a glimpse, his heart lurched with a chill!
He threw it onto the desk while looking away.
He turned around and came to the window without looking back, looked at the crisp clear late-spring morning sky—the blue sky!
Aah damn it all!
His hips were rattling uncontrollably!
Muffling his footsteps he returned unsteadily to the desk again circled three four five six—seven times around it at that spot where he'd been pacing—and then: This is it!
The idea sprang up!
That's right—I can't stay like this.
Put on your coat put on your hat don't panic lower the window shade.
Don't look toward the desk don't acknowledge that thing lock it get outside.
He immediately dashed outside and with a sigh of relief looked up at the sky.
Blue sky!

He dashed straight into the park and strode briskly through the wind.
This was what they called refreshment and health!
And then—ah, the letter! The letter!
I can read it!
I'm okay!
What the hell—this was just the thing to work up an appetite before breakfast!
Damn it all!
Why the hell hadn't I shoved that thing into my pocket again!
A thousand schemes undone by a single oversight—a once-in-a-lifetime lapse in judgment, as they say—and with that, Mr. Mukuhara Komei suddenly began sprinting at full speed toward his home.
But when he returned to his desk, he shrank back in horror and began trembling uncontrollably.
This wouldn't do!
His hand, which should have seized the letter, had inexplicably grabbed a magazine instead—there was nothing to be done. He flipped through its pages and began pacing round and round the room.
He took a deep breath.
He went to the bathroom.
He drank water.
But through sheer force of will, there he was—true to form—looking up; yet in the end, he tore open the letter's seal and collapsed heavily into the chair.
At that point, he began to read the important letter from that irreplaceable person—its contents as follows.

The Important Reply from an Irreplaceable Person

Ah, how nostalgic it is to see your name, Mr. Komei!

Even deep in the mountains, spring had arrived.
Though valleys, paths, forests, and passes alike remained uniformly blanketed with several feet of lingering snow, the radiant blue sky brimming with light could only be seen in a snow country’s spring.
The snowfield glittered, the mountains shone, the midair sparkled, and deep within the firmament, a radiant transparency leapt and cascaded down—as if all things strove solely to blaze with light.
The villagers, long crushed beneath gloomy snow-laden skies, upon seeing the arrival of this azure sky, found themselves compelled to cast aside all tasks and dash out into the vast snowfields.
Shouting at the top of their voices, they raised their arms high toward the azure sky and darted frantically across the glittering snowfield.
The sweet yet frenzy-filled hymn of sensuality opened toward the light—ah! This was not limited to villagers alone!
Ah! The trees! Ah! The grasses! They too were thus.
Ah! Though several feet of lingering snow still clung stiffly to the earth like stone, ah! The beech forest sent forth its soft green buds—ah! Sprouting anew!
The joy of the villagers who, after half a year, ah! Beheld fresh green once more was expressed through, ah! Pure silence and, ah! A long, long gaze so intense they forgot even to move.
Now, if one broke through the hard several feet of snow—ah! Beneath the snow, ah! Trembling blue buds were, ah! Sprouting forth, were they not?
Ah! Unable to refrain from walking diligently toward the seasons, ah! Struck by the tear-inducing will of living beings, ah! The people let out cries of astonishment—ah!
Ah! The lively night when they took those buds and served them at the dinner table.
Ah! Freshness of taste.
Now, when the next day arrived, the villagers gathered at the mountain path’s trail to clear the way to the foothills—ah! The joy of labor!—and breaking the path’s snow, they pushed it into the deep valley while raising ah! Joyous cries.
Ah! The emotion of beholding the earth anew—ah! Ah-ah-ah!
Come nightfall, they set about preparing for the village play—ah! Part of the living season’s festivities—when lo and behold, ah! The village’s top gidayu narrator and shrine priest—ah! Was struck down by a cold—ah! What a shock!
With the play’s opening day fast approaching—ah! The villagers’ distress knew no bounds; the village doctor—ah! Remained constantly at the bedside, and the youth group—ah! Strove to provide all-night care—yet the priest—ah! Paid no heed to the village doctor’s medicines, instead swiftly recovering—ah! Through his long-standing habit of downing a whole shō of sake.
Now, as the village play’s opening neared—ah! The cherry blossoms too began to scatter into bloom here and there, and soon arrived that—ah! Season of verdant leaves so vivid they seemed to seep into one’s soul—ah! Mountains upon mountains clad in greenery, across which swept the—ah! Spacious,—ah! Refreshing,—ah! Early summer’s—ah! Wind—ah! And then again,—ah! In the—ah! Shade of—ah! Weeds at the—ah! Valley’s depths,—ah! Emerging to show their faces—ah! Those—ah! Tiny,—ah! Nameless—ah! Flowers.
And when all remaining snow had vanished even from the valley’s depths—ah! Already that summer’s peak with cotton-like clouds floating had arrived.
That summer too was but a fleeting moment.

Spring departs—ah, such sensitivity, such sensitivity!

Master of Hanmin Sansō: Gendo Matasuke

Mr. Mukuhara Komei

Volume Two

Having become a gust of wind and vanished—or so it seems—there remains none who know the whereabouts of my stalwart warrior, it is said.