Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Sakaguchi Ango

The Story of Men Being Unable to Receive Compensation for Damages

Complaint Regarding Claim for Compensation for Damages Due to Breach of Marriage Contract

The plaintiff, Hayama Tomekichi, who had been engaged in the dry cleaning business at Yoshino Hirokichi’s residence in Kyobashi Hatchobori, Chuo Ward, met the defendant Nakayama Shizu through an introduction by Mr. Shinbori Nakano-suke on June 8, 1948, and subsequently held a wedding ceremony at the Mitsukoshi Main Store ceremony hall on August 19 of the same year through the matchmaking of both Mr. Shinbori and Mrs. Yoshino, thereby entering into a de facto marriage contract.

Shizu’s brother-in-law, Mr. Kato Ritsuji, operated a dry cleaning shop in Suginami, and due to Shizu’s residence there, Hayama was earnestly requested to cohabit with her at that location temporarily and assist with work, leading him to abandon his long-standing clientele and comply with their request.

After the wedding ceremony, there was one marital act that night. However, from the following day onward—for reasons unknown—Shizu ceased speaking with Hayama. Three nights later, she laid a rug on the wooden floor, prepared separate bedding, and slept alone. Hayama suffered grave humiliation.

Though Hayama struggled to comprehend Shizu’s true intentions, he approached her with sincerity—at times even resorting to charm—and attempted various conversations. Yet Shizu kept her mouth shut and obstinately refused to respond.

Hayama exhausted all means—even confiding in Mr. Kato Ritsuji about the circumstances—yet Shizu soon publicly declared, “I never liked Hayama from the start; I only married him because others urged me to. Keeping separate beds was to prevent having children,” thereby annulling her marriage to Hayama and confirming her refusal to fulfill the marriage contract.

Hayama took up residence at Shizu’s place, and the damages from losing many clients were truly substantial.
Furthermore, the mental shock of having his lifelong virginity destroyed due to Shizu defied description.
Therefore, the material damages amounted to ¥100,000, and the mental damages warranted compensation of ¥200,000.

Testimony of Kato Ritsuji, Nakayama Shizu’s Brother-in-Law and Dry Cleaner

Shizu is my wife’s younger sister.
Regarding post-wedding residence—given both the current housing shortage and the fact that Shizu was keeping watch over the shop alone—I stated it would be better for him to work at Shizu’s place until societal conditions stabilized.

However, during their pre-marital courtship when the two went to Togeki Theater together, Shizu reportedly said she found it unpleasant that the plaintiff came without even wearing a hat, dressed in an aloha shirt.

In late August, when Hayama developed severe diarrhea, Shizu—fearing infection—spread out a rug and prepared separate bedding to sleep apart. When someone inquired about their marital relations with Shizu, she replied that she was performing her duties normally but declared such questions improper to ask.
Shizu was so neurotic that when displeased, she detested even looking at my face to that degree.

After Hayama left the house, Mr. Yoshino and Hayama came together, and Mr. Yoshino branded me a fool and demanded ¥300,000.

Hayama Tomekichi (then thirty years old): Testimony

On the day of the wedding, I performed marital relations only once.
At that time, Shizu appeared to have had no prior experience with marital relations.
Moreover, when engaging in marital relations, she never showed any sign of refusal.
I had never had relations with the opposite sex before, but was able to perform marital relations.

On the second day, Shizu said she was unwell, laid out two beds, and when I requested marital relations, the defendant refused.
[Omission] I have lost my father; mother remains.

I have no property. The Nakayama side does have property—I believe they own forest land.
If Shizu comes to me, I will take her in at any time.

Nakayama Shizu (then twenty-nine years old): Testimony

At the time of the meeting, since we were in the same line of work, even though he had nothing to his name, I decided to get married.

On the day of the wedding ceremony, when I went to Hayama’s brother-in-law’s house, the other party was slightly drunk,

“A man’s foolishness and a woman’s cleverness are exactly the same—since women can’t match men in practical living skills, you ought to cherish your husband,” and “Do you know what it means when a husband favors a red court hat?” I was told things like this, and even when I was insulted in such a way, I felt lonely wondering why Hayama wouldn’t say anything in my defense.

On the first day of marriage, we engaged in marital relations.
On the second day, we slept together, but as I was feeling unwell, I refused marital relations.
The bleeding was severe, and at first I thought it was due to marital relations, but as it continued for about five days, I realized it was my monthly period.
I had never engaged in relations with a man prior to that.
I think it was around the fifth day that I slept in a separate room, but that was because Hayama had diarrhea.
When Mrs. Shinbori, the matchmaker, came and said, “Just tell me whether you like Hayama or not,” I replied that I couldn’t feel affection in this situation.
I have not thought at all about resuming talks with Hayama.

Judgment

**“Judgment”**

The defendant shall pay to the plaintiff the sum of ¥30,000 with annual interest of five percent from October 20, Showa 23 (1948).
The plaintiff’s remaining claims are hereby dismissed.
The litigation costs shall be divided into ten parts, with one part borne by the defendant and the remainder by the plaintiff.

**“Reasons”**

The plaintiff holds the legitimate authority to rescind this contract and may seek damages from the defendant.
The aforementioned damages shall be recognized as amounting to ¥30,000.

For according to the plaintiff’s own testimony, he earned an income of approximately ¥30,000 per month through dry cleaning contracts, with net profits amounting to half of that, and the court recognizes that he took approximately two months off from his original occupation due to this marriage contract.

The plaintiff claims ¥200,000 in compensation for damages; however, compensation claims can only be made by women, and men cannot claim such compensation.
This is based on the difference in societal evaluation between women’s loss of chastity—that is, the loss of their purity—and men’s loss of virginity; evaluating these as equivalent is not legally valid.
Therefore, this court accepts as valid the portion of the plaintiff’s principal claim seeking damages of ¥30,000, while deeming the remaining portions—including the compensation claim—groundless and hereby rejects them.

(Tokyo District Court Civil Division No. 1, Judge Yasutake Toichiro)

I recall seeing a few opposing statements in newspapers regarding this judgment.
There was opposition from some women arguing that this contravened gender equality.
They claimed recognizing male chastity and awarding compensation to boys would align with equal rights.
It was a resentful mentality protesting how only girls bore chastity demands—thus insisting that if society wanted to impose chastity on boys too, they should at least pay up—but considering how few girls likely earned their own money while clutching it tightly in their fists, one had to wonder where they’d scrape together this compensation from; clearly, no one would willingly suffer such an obvious loss.

This judgment is likely appropriate. Trials are not conducted in accordance with ideals but are grounded in reality.
If one were to conduct trials by holding them up to ideals—for instance, based on the principle of gender equality while ignoring reality—one could surely deliver all sorts of satisfying judgments, but the resulting mess would prove unmanageable.
Boys would surely clamor to claim compensation for damages one after another, but girls wouldn’t pay up.

Considering Japan's reality—well, generally speaking—male chastity indeed had no monetary value.
While the presence or absence of sexually transmitted diseases might pose an obstacle to marriage, determining virginity status—first and foremost—lacked any means of verification.
However, suppose there existed a pitiable clan whose lifelong aspiration was for their son to become son-in-law to a wealthy princess—day and night they prayed to Inari-sama, with both parents and son preparing ceremonial tea and sake while devoting themselves to scholarly refinement and artistic cultivation, desperately yearning for an advantageous marital connection.
Their fervent wish materialized when he successfully married into a princess's household, but pitifully—whether from excessive tension—diarrhea developed from the following morning onward, incurring the princess's disgust until shared bedding was permanently forbidden.
This precipitated divorce proceedings, but with such stigma now marring the family registry, the man became permanently barred from marrying into affluent families.
Thereupon emerged a compensation claim regarding the forfeited male virginity.
Indeed.
This presented a dilemma in such circumstances.
The valuation of male virginity might indeed prove substantial.

You fool!
For a man to not even try to make a living by his own skills and instead make becoming the son-in-law of a wealthy family his lifelong ambition—what absurdity!
Yet one could not very well scold them for it.

There is no rule stating that a man must not aspire to become the son-in-law of a wealthy family.
There may be some similar meaning in the precepts of sages, but if the precepts of sages could govern the lives of ordinary people, there would be no need for laws in the world at all.

The plaintiff dry cleaner had also made becoming the son-in-law of a wealthy family his lifelong ambition. Having had his male virginity’s purity defiled in this manner, he could no longer become the son-in-law of a respectable family. Therefore, when he vehemently demanded, “Hand over compensation for damages,” the judge may have been somewhat troubled. It would not have been possible to simply conclude that only women can claim compensation for damages while men cannot.

However, I don’t know whether such a rule exists in the Six Codes or anything like that.
Since my bookshelf has never contained anything like the Six Codes, I have no knowledge of them, but I doubt there exists any rule as definitively established as the Constitution.
In this Mr. Dry Cleaner’s case, even if he cannot make a claim, there should be situations where boys are able to seek compensation for damages.
In other words, this Judge has erred in his wording.
It should have been stated that this applies to Mr. Dry Cleaner’s case, and it is thought that one cannot make a blanket statement about all boys.

Trials ought fundamentally to be adjudicated case by case.
Declarations like “all women” or “every single man” amount to philosophical generalizations—hardly a judge’s proper role.
To posit some universal axiom and therefrom deduce conclusions about Mr. Dry Cleaner’s situation betrayed no grasp of forensic rigor.
When such axiomatic foundations faced challenges—“What of this scenario? That circumstance?”—the slightest fissure would destabilize their footing.
This perilous deductive method belonged to debate amateurs; they need only have judged Mr. Dry Cleaner’s case on its particulars.
Personally, I concurred—no grounds existed for compensating this dry cleaner over virginity loss.
Yet none could blithely decree all Japanese youths forever barred from damages claims regardless of exigency.

Frankly, if they could so easily reach sweeping conclusions that held water, then what was even the point of having trials? In all matters, if they created such formulas to determine what was invalid and what was valid—judging everything as effortlessly as directing traffic—that should suffice.

Had the judge simply ruled that Mr. Dry Cleaner’s case—being of such-and-such a nature—did not warrant compensation for damages, it would have been unremarkable. But when they bluntly declared that only women could receive compensation while men could not—extending this to all boys without exception—it was only natural for people to be startled. In passing judgment on Mr. Dry Cleaner, going ahead and ruling on all boys too was a bit of a nuisance. Boys came in all sorts, you know.

Judges should render decisions based solely on the immediate matter at hand, operating under the premise that any number of unpredictable complications might arise.
All complications are unique, I tell you.
Preconceived formulas cannot be allowed to take precedence.

Mr. Dry Cleaner had moved in with his wife’s relatives to assist with their family business, leaving him isolated in his daily life. Moreover, since it was indeed the wife who harbored dislike toward him, he likely came to experience a state of mind akin to being driven out like an unwanted son-in-law—prompting him to conceive of seeking compensation for damages. One could sympathize with such sentiments.
Speaking of compensation for damages regarding lost male virginity, his case might seem unusual. However, when considering compensation for the hardships of his daily life—whether such things could be monetized aside—one could not help but sympathize with the sorrowful days of his married life.
Compared to the wife who disliked him and to the wife who had allies around her, it was only natural that one might sympathize with his emotional state.

The wife appeared somewhat hysterical, her solitary worldview having hardened into rigidity, leaving her without the flexibility to comprehend humor or grasp the common human sentiments of everyday life. She showed no inclination to break out of her shell or make efforts to understand others. Parts of her seemed to have already solidified and stopped developing.

Generally speaking, many married women tended to rigidly conform to the customs of their husband’s household upon marriage.
Once they reached that state, they entered a condition of arrested development that held no validity beyond the marital home—yet as long as it sufficed within those domestic confines, this stasis remained entirely satisfactory to said household.

However, this wife had already formed a rigidly congealed shell and exhibited a hardened state of arrested development even before marriage.
Mr. Dry Cleaner, having married such a wife and moved into her family’s household, must have endured days of hardship.

Mr. Dry Cleaner’s brother-in-law, slightly drunk, faced Ms. Shizu and said, “A man’s foolishness and a woman’s cleverness are exactly the same. Since you can’t match men in life skills, you should treasure your husband.”
“Do you know what it means to humor your husband’s whims?” he reportedly said.
“It’s rather pitiable that despite being insulted to this extent, she felt lonely because Mr. Dry Cleaner didn’t say anything—no, what’s truly pitiable is the petrified state of her comprehension.”

This isn’t an insult, you see.
Rather, affection for one’s brother-in-law’s new wife was the principal factor.
A considerable number of common people tend to use this sort of affection toward new wives of their younger brothers or brothers-in-law as part of their newlywed banter, you see.
Moreover, when people are drunk, they tend to resort to such expressions all the more.
In other words, common people’s drunken antics and the things they say when intoxicated are generally all alike, you see.
It was the kind of phenomenon where one could encounter this brand of drunken affection everywhere in the streets—and though she was a proper adult, unlike some twenty-nine-year-old young woman, her lack of knowledge or understanding of even the most commonplace human sentiments and customs in everyday life felt profoundly lonely, you see.

According to testimony from her sister’s husband, Mr. Kato, she was neurotic and disliked even looking at Mr. Kato’s face when displeased to such an extent.
She was a woman difficult to get along with, you see.

Shortly after their marriage, Mr. Dry Cleaner had diarrhea, so she—fearing infection would be problematic—apparently laid out a futon on the wooden floor and slept there, you see.
Her meticulous hygiene practices were indeed commendable; however, the notion that it is ultimately the wife who must truly nurse him back to health when her husband contracts an infectious disease—though this is not a rule or law but merely an ordinary human sentiment of everyday life—raises the question: how on earth should a husband handle such a purely rational wife who completely lacks these commonplace sentiments?
Even Mr. Immanuel Kant, though he could philosophically manage pure reason, had already been thoroughly defeated by his own wife.
How our pitiable Mr. Dry Cleaner struggled to manage her, and how he devoted himself day and night to managing her!
What is a woman?!
He may have even pondered numerous inconclusive contemplations regarding this great question.

Pitiable Mr. Dry Cleaner! You too, before marriage, knew not that your adversary was such a purely rational being—carelessly optimistic, hatless and clad in an Aloha shirt, you went stylishly to watch plays at Tōgeki Theater with that fearsome rational entity.
It was midsummer of Showa 23 when Aloha shirts reigned supreme.
Not only market uncles wore them.
Though judges, ministers and literati abstained, for street youths trends constituted beauty itself.
Old folks cursed modernity while reminiscing about their own fads, but healthy youngsters through all human history have borne their era’s fashions alone—such being the way of urban youth.
Whether Aloha itself held beauty matters not to our tale.

It is true that he was impulsive and overly optimistic.
However, though he wore Aloha shirts, unlike the market uncles, he had never known women before and showed no evidence of having even read *The Plum in the Golden Vase* or *Lady Chatterley’s Lover*.
On their wedding night, he was apparently unfamiliar with any techniques to manage his new wife.

Nakayama Shizu’s written statement states:

“For some reason, Hayama did not perform the marital rites and especially did not allow one to experience the so-called newlywed pleasures.”
“Shizu, being a virgin, did not know what marital relations entailed or how to perform them, nor did she possess the means to make demands herself; rather, it is an indisputable and publicly known fact that these matters should have been actively guided and caressed by Hayama as the man.”
“Despite this, the plaintiff intentionally refrained from providing such guidance, did not warmly embrace me, and—treating me, his new wife, as if I were wood or stone—violated my virginity.” (Excerpt)

A masterful composition, wasn’t it? An indisputable, publicly known fact.
Exactly.
Guess we shouldn’t argue, huh?
Cracking down on streetwalkers—what kind of nonsense was this?!
Prosecuting Lady Chatterley—what kind of nonsense was this?!
So for all his swaggering about in that Aloha shirt, wasn’t he just like wood or stone on their wedding night?
Thereby violating her virginity, huh?
It was truly remarkable—this wasn’t some sleazy tabloid catchphrase but a proper legal brief.
The expression “violating virginity” in the context of wedding night rites would have been rather difficult to justify outside of sleazy magazines.
Admittedly, logically speaking, the wedding night was indeed meant to violate a virgin’s chastity—but receiving a stern reprimand for that very act hadn’t really been feasible.

The fact that they resorted to such grandiose, world-class prose in their defense ultimately stemmed from their counterarguments themselves lacking any real punch, I suppose.
In short, you see.
Had the statement said that Aloha—acting as plaintiff—was far too experienced and seasoned, so much so that on their wedding night he plunged the virgin defendant into such confusion and torment that he lost all trust from her neurotic and fastidious self, then that wouldn’t have counted as grand prose at all. At least there would’ve been some authentic power in the facts being laid out, you see.

As Mr. Aloha put it: "At times I put on a charming act and pleaded with my wife," you see.
Ha ha ha.
However, Mr. Aloha's hardships were all too evident.
Having been made to sleep separately on the wooden floor, his newlywed life became a ceaseless series of daily and nightly perplexities—so much so that he verged on a nervous breakdown altogether—and one could not help but sympathize with the husband's state of mind in desiring to claim compensation for damages.

However.
As the judge said, Mr. Aloha's virginity truly had no price tag.
Even if one sought compensation for mental damages over losing virginity—or over having lost it—one couldn't claim payment for something inherently valueless.
But what about mental damages separate from virginity loss?
From my rough account above alone, I consider Mr. Aloha to occupy the victim's position.
Though both spouses shared equal anguish when their marriage collapsed, I maintain the victimhood should belong to Mr. Aloha.
Whether this mental damage qualifies as compensable remains debatable—but lacking knowledge of current legal precedents, I cannot render legal judgment.

According to the judgment, litigation costs were divided into ten parts—the woman was to bear one-tenth while the man paid the remaining nine-tenths—but if I couldn't grant damages to the plaintiff as a mental victim, I would at least make that woman shoulder all litigation costs to force some semblance of compensation.
Wasn't it cruel to make Aloha bear nine-tenths of that burden?
I recognized far more deserving of sympathy in Mr. Aloha, the plaintiff, than in that defendant—that purely rational entity.

However, in both city streets and rural villages alike, there must be no small number of such mismatched marriages.
And there must be a great many men and women holding back tears without even the sense to file lawsuits.
Among such varied cases, Mr. Aloha neither slapped his wife nor brandished any blades; nor did he lack independent living skills—being fully competent at his job and even supporting his wife’s livelihood—so while pitifully listless, he certainly did not fall into the category of those who commit many faults.
It was clearly he who had endured in patient submission.

If I were to render judgment, I would make the defendant—that purely rational entity—bear all litigation costs, and in addition to the ¥30,000 in damages over two months, have her repay even a small portion of the living expenses Mr. Aloha supported her with during those two months, thereby at least partially repaying the victim—Mr. Aloha—for his labors in that ill-fated newlywed life of his.

Now, what remained last was this grandiloquent issue of how men must not violate a virgin as if they were wood or stone on their wedding night—an indisputable fact known to all—but this wasn’t something the law could solve.
Suppose there were some dashing judge like Ooka Echizen who slyly slipped a copy of *Lady Chatterley’s Lover* into the plaintiff’s pocket as the punchline—then out of nowhere, a prosecutor would materialize and collar this Echizen-no-kami on charges of “obscene document hamp” or some such pretext.
Knock on wood.
Knock on wood.

The tale of whether he drank ¥74,000 in one night or not

The tale of Sugiyama Hirohisa (thirty-one years old), who was swindled at a new-style café

“Well, I was shocked—truly shocked—when they charged me ¥74,700.”
“I thought it must be a mistake for ¥7,470 and checked it over and over again.”
“After all, I thought I’d maybe had twenty bottles at most.”
“When I’m drunk, I generally get carried away—so yes, I did boldly place orders: sixty-six bottles of sake, seventy-eight bottles of beer, sixty-three appetizers, five plates of spiny lobster, twenty-eight servings of octopus, twenty-five servings of tuna sashimi, five plates of fruit, one bottle of champagne, ten servings of sushi—and a twenty percent service fee—”

“It couldn’t be helped—I paid.”
“After all, I did have the cash on me.”
“But my drunkenness completely wore off.”
“It wasn’t my own money—I’m just a lowly secondhand clothes dealer, and what’s more, it was money entrusted by customers. The thought of how to repay it leaves me utterly dejected—it’s so infuriating I can’t stand it.”
“So I went to the police box in front of the station and laid out the whole story.”
“It’s not like I went in on my own—that’s right, I was dragged in at Shibuya Station.”

Shibuya Udagawacho—the manager of Salon Haru states:

“Swindled? That’s preposterous.”
“To begin with, that man’s appearance was unsavory.”
“He didn’t seem like the type to come to a place like this.”
“Our waitresses don’t go around dragging people in, you know.”
“We don’t entertain such customers—he’s the one who approached us saying, ‘Let me have some fun.’”
“So he kept bragging about having three hundred thousand yen or whatnot, but we just couldn’t believe him.”
“He was even timidly producing it.”
“Even so, it still counts as solicitation, you see.”
“The very act of standing on the street is what’s fundamentally unacceptable, you see.”

“The billing was properly handled.”
“That’s been acknowledged by customers at the Public Safety Commission.”
“After going home, he immediately headed to the police box, you see.”
“He’s a cowardly customer.”
“It leaves a nasty aftertaste.”

“Lately there’s been an increase in nasty customers. After drinking their fill, they start with ‘You solicited us, didn’t you? Let’s go to the police’—we’re in a weak position here, you see.”
“If we don’t send out solicitors, we can’t sustain the business at all.”
“But the waitresses themselves are decent.”
“Thirty percent are married, twenty percent widows—the rest are single, but many are admirable types supporting parents or putting siblings through school. All doing it for their livelihoods.”
“Not that we haven’t heard about shady dealings, but it’s kept within acceptable limits.”

“However, generally speaking, customers who have girls provide service at a new-style café and then try to settle with flea-market-level bills are tacky. I’ve had enough of customers like that—I’m done with them after being treated so harshly.”

I read this story in the newspaper.
It was an article that had appeared in a small column like a miscellaneous news section, but when it comes to such absurd stories—whether through divine protection or not—it’s strange how I never miss them.
The All reporter, apparently sharing my predicament, duly brought along a proper written account.

This story hits close to home.

It wasn’t just me—any drunkard would have read this and felt their blood run cold as if it were their own story, only to burst into uproarious laughter moments later. The All reporter’s having been so deeply affected as to bring along a written account was entirely understandable.

I had done quite a lot of this sort of thing myself. Getting drunk and emboldened, I would storm into bars and make a foolish commotion ordering this to drink and that to eat. However, it was never just me alone—there were always two or three people around me, perhaps because someone among them had retained some semblance of sobriety. I was never presented with a bill so outrageous it would make your eyes pop out.

However, going alone wasn't wise.
The place where I had such an experience was a meeting house.
There was an awful meeting house in Kudan.
When customers were bathing, they would apparently search through all the money in their pockets and bags, then present an outrageous bill leaving just enough from one's usual funds to pawn a car.
All my friends got caught too and suffered from exorbitant bills, but since customers could simply go elsewhere, everyone stopped going.
What couldn't endure this were the local businesses—other meeting houses and geisha groups banded together, and it's said they publicly denounced that one meeting house at a full assembly because its overcharging caused all of Kudan to lose customers and gain a bad reputation.
This shows exactly how severely they'd been overcharging.

In establishments such as three-industry associations, it was possible for teahouse geisha to unite and perform the bold move of confronting an overcharging establishment to achieve local self-restraint. This was because teahouses and geisha were tied to their locale, customers also became attached to that locale, and since the prosperity of the locale was tied to the prosperity of all businesses, they feared that a single overcharging establishment might cause them to lose customers attached to the locale.

However, cafés, new-style coffee shops, and waitresses are not like this.
Waitresses are not attached to the land or the shop.
They can drift lightly anywhere they please.

Therefore, no matter how much that shop overcharges, there’s no need to band together and confront it. First of all, since they aren’t tied to any locale, forming a united front proves impossible. Ginza bars are relatively stable, you know—hardly any turnover among customers, managers, or waitresses.

The very act of going out to the streets to solicit customers is itself illegal; yet since they cannot sustain their business without committing this crime to drag customers in, it stands to reason that once dragged in, one won’t be let off without paying.
However, because drunkards can’t apply the brakes, I imagine most have already experienced instances of being presented with eye-popping bills.

I don’t know about now, but until around last year, if you were well-dressed, you would be dragged in even without money. They would take coats, jackets, or wristwatches as collateral and throw you out of the shop. Of course, such bandit-style business practices cannot be praised, but those who, knowing there are bandits on this path, still take to the night road are hardly blameless themselves. Drunkards too bear their share of guilt. In other words, it’s a case of reaping what you’ve sown.

But I must say, Mr. Secondhand Clothes Dealer’s exorbitant bill was astonishing. I was a seasoned veteran in absurd drunken antics; in having not a trace of regret, I stood second to none. When drunk, I had performed numerous wild feats beyond what other drunkards could accomplish, making my valiant name resound far and wide—yet never had I been presented with such an absurdly exorbitant bill.

Among the actors in Asakusa’s floating trade, there existed a term called “payment demon.” People like me were the foremost examples of this. When drunk, I would energetically lead around a group of men and women who tagged along, drinking vigorously and paying the bills with gusto. What happened in the morning was best left unsaid—but at any rate, I was full of vigor back then. Guzzle down drinks and pay up in full. I never let others pay. Such enthusiastic individuals were what we called payment demons. The people of Asakusa sure came up with clever phrases. In those marginalized zones, there were always these odd characters bustling about, never letting others pay the bill, lurking everywhere. In gatherings of wealthy people, such odd characters did not take up residence.

Yet even a fool like me—without a trace of regret—could never have spent seventy-four thousand seven hundred yen in one night, even dragging ten people around drinking—absolutely unthinkable. The only establishment that came close was that notorious teahouse in Kudan.

But this new-style café manager’s statement was far too audacious, don’t you think? How satisfying it must feel to speak so boldly! If customers these days were actually requesting “Entertain us,” you wouldn’t see hordes of waitresses swarming the streets like that. To begin with—that customer looked downright unsavory! Now that’s what I call a brazen claim!

They say when that disheveled customer first showed up, they tremblingly handed over ¥74,700 worth of goods as ordered—but really now! What kind of magician parts with seventy-four thousand yen while quaking in their boots? A pushover like that lasting three days as a café manager? Now that’s a miracle! It’s downright miraculous we survive in this dog-eat-dog world.

While I felt considerable antipathy toward Mr. Manager’s overly blunt manner of speaking, establishments employing business practices where waitresses lured customers on the streets would hardly let their prey slip through their fingers time and again.
It wasn’t just his shop—one wouldn’t be mistaken to assume all customer-soliciting establishments employed the same bandit-style business practices.
It was simply a matter of some establishments knowing their place and others not.

If you know there are bandits here, you mustn’t approach them, I tell you.
If you choose to approach bandits, you must be prepared to accept whatever they do to you.

As has often been depicted in traditional storytelling since ancient times, there are those who, on their way back from collecting money for their master’s household, gamble away their funds or get entangled with women and bring ruin upon themselves.
Before departing on a collection trip, the master or parents would say: "You’re usually serious and faultless, but when drunk, you grow reckless and commit errors."
They would receive warnings like: "While entrusted with the master’s money, you must not drink a single drop."
And yet it still doesn’t work, I tell you.

Even now, in Shizuoka Prefecture where I live, the whereabouts of the citrus collector remain unknown. He too had been cautioned before departure with words like: “You’re the sort who completely transforms once alcohol enters your system, so while entrusted with other people’s large sums of money, don’t drink a single drop,” and set off accordingly. When he appeared at the collection site in Yokohama that evening, his face was already bright red from what seemed a considerable amount of alcohol consumed. Thump thump—he struck his bag and struck a bold pose, declaring there was a hundred-some thousand yen inside. Then, fearing it would be disastrous to miss his train, he hurriedly left—only to vanish completely thereafter. It appears he was likely murdered, and they’re currently conducting an extensive investigation.

In the end, approaching bandits while drunk was the fundamental error.
There was no doubt the individuals themselves bore responsibility for their own actions.
Yet this personal accountability should never have justified rationalizing bandits' business practices.
But in their current enforcement approach, the police appeared so excessively focused on acknowledging drunkards' self-inflicted consequences that they tended to over-rationalize the bandits' methods.
While it might be inevitable that drunkards reap what they sow, shouldn't we be regulating those bandit-style operations even more strictly than the drunkards themselves?

There were too many bandits in Japan’s entertainment districts.
The hoodlum underlings.
The bosses above them.
And then there was the business practice of setting up mountain fortresses to sell alcohol.

For people like me—those who understand they reap what they sow and knowingly repeat their follies—it’s all well and good, but it’s precisely those upstanding collector types, who ordinarily are so virtuous yet take a liking to alcohol and grow bold enough to undergo complete transformation when drinking, that I find pitiable.
There’s no doubt they reap what they sow, but through cracking down on entertainment districts we could reduce part of that self-inflicted suffering.
We might lessen some portion of mistakes made by ordinary good people—those monthly slips no… yearly… lifetime errors.
As for habitual drunks like me—we’re one matter—but those rare souls losing their reason deserve pity.
Habitual drunks don’t dive deep into bandit territory—it’s precisely those decent folk who occasionally lose their heads that get hit hardest by brigands.

The Story of Being Fined 1,000 Yen for Parroting *Ango Kōdan*

With utmost respect, I originally wrote this letter hoping to have Mr. Sakaguchi read it, but regrettably—as I do not know his address—and having occasionally seen Your Excellency’s name in *Ango Kōdan*, I thought you might kindly oblige; thus, fully aware of my impertinence, I make this bold request.

I wish to inform you of my rural comedy that cannot be laughed at—that I ended up being sentenced to a ¥1,000 fine for parroting *Ango Kōdan*.

It was around this time last year that a social education committee member from the local government office visited our area and organized a discussion meeting with youth group members and village volunteers. At that gathering, when one of the village volunteers declared something to the effect of “Village development requires nothing but youths’ spirit of sacrifice,” and everyone voiced agreement, I remarked, “First it was sacrifices for the nation and Emperor—now sacrifices for the village? We young people have had enough of this sacrifice business.” This immediately provoked an uproar. Several Emperor-loyalist types assailed me with shouts of “His Majesty has never demanded sacrifices from citizens! That’s slander—retract it!” So I regurgitated Mr. Hamaguchi’s arguments about the Emperor system from *Lieutenant Nosaka and Sergeant Nakanishi*, then escalated the debate from Gandhi-style nonresistance to opposition against rearmament before storming out. But when I checked the next day, the matter had sprouted wings and horns as it spread through the village: “Koyamada insulted His Majesty! We always thought he was shady—he’s definitely a Communist now! Drive that bastard out!” The condemnations poured in relentlessly. They barred the youths and middle/high schoolers who used to visit me nightly, warning them, “Going to that guy’s place will dye you red!” They even petitioned for my transfer at work—can you imagine? (I should note I detest the Communist Party and aspire to remain a true ideological liberal.) These groundless accusations were too ludicrous to engage with, and since both my company and union knew my character, I dismissed them, assuming time would dissolve such drivel. But rural tenacity defied expectations—they lay in wait for the perfect moment to ensnare me. During the Electric Power Red Purge, they conspired thinking “Now’s our chance,” though naturally that too failed. Then perhaps exploiting my polycythemia, one day they commanded: “Report tomorrow for mandatory labor on prefectural road repairs! If you can’t come, buy tea snacks for everyone!”

Such incidents had occurred about monthly before my arrival in this area, but after I campaigned with youth group backing to abolish them last year, I clashed fiercely with the village boss. When he struck me first, I snapped and punched him back twice—bloodying his nose—which they seized as their long-awaited pretext. Charged with assault, I was fined ¥1,000 in the end.

The village policeman once drunkenly rampaged through a Bon dance wearing a yukata with a pistol in one hand, beating anyone in sight; the middle school instructor pummeled every student except those from influential families; the boss—whose nose I bloodied—brutally beat an elderly man for being "lazy" on a mandatory labor project until his back gave out, yet the villagers remained unfazed. But when it came to my case, they made it an issue—because I'm an outsider, or perhaps something else—though the true cause was my repeating Mr. Sakaguchi's words: "The Emperor may be well-meaning, but he's no wise man."

You may have no interest in such trivial rural incidents, but I wrote this thinking that committing it to paper might calm my uncontainable indignation.

Though I would dearly wish to hear Mr. Sakaguchi’s thoughts on this matter, knowing how busy you must be, I shall refrain from imposing.

Writers receive all sorts of letters from unknown readers as a matter of course, but I was astonished by this one.
I have received three or four innocent letters of the sort that say things like, "By parroting street stories, personal views on Japanese culture, theories of decadence, and such, I left my opponents dumbfounded!"
As for these opponents, they’re mostly from the Communist Party, and it seems my street stories are quite sufficient for blasting the Communist members’ adversaries.
Therefore, to me come pouring in a considerable number of threatening letters from rural Communist literary youths.
They may have been blasted by opponents who parroted my theories.

This letter taught me many things.
Residents of the Tokyo area cannot truly understand real rural life.

A fairly strong anti-war sentiment could be observed among urban youths.
However, when examining the true intentions of the Japanese people—whether pro-war or anti-war sentiments were more prevalent—I rather judged there to be more people with pro-war inclinations.

The origins of pro-war sentiments lay in thoughts like: Let the war come now—we’ll make a killing this time.
Last time some cunning bastard had beaten me to it and I’d missed out on making a killing, but this time I’d learned the ropes—damn it all, this time I’d become Japan’s greatest upstart, just you wait!
The main players were those rolling up their sleeves and crying “Bring it on!” as they eagerly awaited war.

As for the current players bearing 'gold' and 'thread' radicals—that went without saying.
It stood to reason that the deposed former general awaited war—there was nothing strange about it—but monks and waitresses and elementary school teachers and mistresses and farmers and pan-pan girls and fishermen and merchants and restaurant owners and officials and black marketeers—everyone was awaiting war.
This time, having learned the ropes, everyone shared the same mindset and was fully raring to go, determined to make a huge killing the moment war arrived.

However—yes—will things truly proceed so smoothly?
Having learned the tricks—you’re hardly alone in that.
When everyone masters the methods, it amounts to no one mastering them at all. Even if all commerce adopts wartime bandit tactics, only those geniuses who pioneer new approaches will strike it rich.
To posture as warriors while fixated on the future is already failure; true top performers are always mid-killing right now.

However, the dark clouds of war anticipation swirling up in rural areas—this too followed its own logic.
War was coming.
Food would be in short supply.
Well, Japan’s finest gentlemen and ladies were farmers now, weren’t they.
Tokyo, Osaka—all those big and small cities here and there—they’d all burned up, hadn’t they.
Ah ha ha!
"I hear Ginza burned down," but well, not really.
"We’ve even got ourselves a Ginza in my village now."
"Mitsui’s daughter came to buy rice yesterday, but she’s turning into a shabby, servant-like woman more and more each day."
"They’re such classless bastards, these city folks."
"I wonder if they don’t have any clothes."
"They sure do bow and scrape like crazy, but three pairs of nylon socks ain’t gonna get you five gō of potatoes."
"At my place, we’ve got three pianos now. With two daughters, that’ll cover the granddaughters too, but if we end up with two granddaughters, it won’t be enough."
"We don’t need suits anymore."
"We don’t need morning coats or frock coats anymore—don’t need ’em at all."
"Right, if you’ve got a silk hat, bring it on over."
"This New Year, let’s just go ahead and wear ’em."
Ah ha ha!

War—that thing—was a peaceful affair.
People finally started graspin' that thing—that you hadda treasure rice an' vegetables proper-like.
After the war ended，there was still peace hangin' 'round three，four years maybe.
Come the fifth year，things went south，I tell ya.
City folk wearin' them aloha shirts was still tolerable，but once they started buttonin' up gabardine suits，everything went plumb rotten.
When them city slickers got all hoity-toity with their fancy ways，Japan was cooked through，no two ways 'bout it.
If a good ol' war fer settin' things straight didn't kick off，this whole world wasn't never gonna know peace，yessiree.

The logic of anticipation held by active gentlemen bearing 'thread' and 'metal' radicals was no different.
The urban war anticipation faction—universally aiming to make a killing in the chaos—shared no difference in logic.

However, the urban anticipation faction consisted of war victims—those burned out of their homes and stripped of their livelihoods, driven by a vengeful wartime mentality—and thus, even if their circumstances led them to yearn for war, most were not true warmongers at heart.
The raw physical immediacy of war’s horrors had receded considerably, yet their sting had also sunk deep into their bones.

However, rural areas were not like that.
The only thing they knew through bitter experience was the wartime economic boom, and the horrors of war had nothing to do with them.
Air raid sirens were but wind blowing from elsewhere, and bombings were no concern of theirs.

Therefore, it was only natural that they cursed all aspects of the postwar era while maintaining the deepest attachment to wartime institutions.
Above all, the emperor system must have been their supreme value.
Before the war began, there had been considerable numbers of emperor-disparaging factions even in rural areas.
This was because they had developed a disposition to resist and reject all authority that appeared associated with cities or subordinate to urban centers.

However, that was no longer the case.
Through the war, they had discovered the Emperor and realized that the emperor system belonged not to the cities but to themselves.
The Emperor had become their supreme value precisely through that wartime experience.

However, I had convinced myself alone that even rural areas must possess at least a fragment of a worldview. However, according to this letter, such was not the case in this rural area; moreover, upon learning these facts, I couldn’t help but think that similar circumstances must exist in many other rural areas. An unbearable morass of ignorance—a world consumed by self-serving interests. The only saving grace in this letter was that, despite the slander from the rural community, the headquarters where this young man worked had not dismissed him.

An ideology that relies on others' loincloths inflicts the greatest actual harm.
If “Do not do unto others what you do not desire” were to become even a formal, common morality, the world’s appearance would transform entirely and grow harmonious, wouldn’t it?

They say rearmament is necessary.
Let those very necessity proponents first become soldiers and be the first to charge into battle.
A village's development need not depend on its youth's sacrificial spirit.
Let those who preach sacrificial spirit first become sacrifices themselves and toil away single-handedly.
Wasn't that how Mr. Ninomiya Sontoku did it.
If such service proves truly necessary, people will naturally follow suit eventually. If they don't follow, that's simply fate.
Those who genuinely believe sacrificial service is needed must first practice it themselves alone, I tell you.
Forcing compulsory labor upon others only happens to prisoners beyond Nakhodka way, I tell you.

When the habit of respecting those who work diligently and properly rewarding them accordingly becomes established, society grows healthy.

In Japan, only words that reward labor have developed—they are too diverse, too exceedingly abundant.
Such words need only one.
“Just ‘Thank you’.”
And one should always provide appropriate compensation for it.
There’s no need to pay 100 yen for shoe polishing.
There’s no need to have an inn clerk grip 1,000 yen.
There’s no need to give out ridiculous rewards.

Things were to correspond to their value, and labor of course was no exception.
It proved impossible to establish a rational order in society through spiritualism that devalued material things and prioritized the spirit.
Since compensation for labor formed the foundation of life, no other order nor courtesy could take root unless a system ensuring proper reward for work became established.
For slipshod work performed half-heartedly, meager compensation sufficed amply.
Those demonstrating skilled, meticulous, precise and diligent labor naturally deserved correspondingly greater rewards.
Compensation constituted neither social obligation nor personal favoritism.
It must always submit to proper evaluation.
This very principle was to form the bedrock of modern order.
With such order established, responsibility toward work would crystallize.
Material rewards and punishments aligned with that responsibility required equal clarity.

As for rewards for found items—whether it’s 10% or 20%, I don’t know—since no rational calculation could be made no matter where one set the standard, establishing a clear rule—10% if it’s 10%—was crucial.
Refusing that reward wasn’t some morally uplifting tale.
It was backwards.
Those who didn’t know how to clarify the order of material things remained ultimately opaque and unsound—people who never grasped the spirit’s true value.

The idea that material things and money are vulgar was mistaken.
Returning found items was just common sense—there was no need for me to give even ten percent as a reward.
Everything was just common sense, I tell you.
Working was also common sense.
Helping others was also common sense.
Exerting kindness was also common sense.
And rewarding common-sense things—that too was common sense.

If an order of compensation for labor became clearly established, sophistry—seemingly noble yet utterly base and self-serving—that claimed village development depended on the sacrificial service of the young would no longer be tolerated. When someone acknowledged that another's service was necessary, the natural conclusion became clear: that very person should first serve themselves and demonstrate a silent sacrificial spirit.

Under customs that rewarded labor with abundant expressions of gratitude and considered such gestures sufficient for maintaining appearances, instead of a way of life where one gladly became a sacrifice for others, only sophistry and schemes that sought to profit from others’ sacrifices—along with glorified names artfully crafted to justify such exploitation—would flourish. And in time, it was certain they would repeatedly conduct things like the Greater East Asia Holy War through the people’s sacrifices, developing into divinely inspired lunacy.

To claim that village development must rely on the sacrificial spirit of the young is, after all, nothing but hypocritical platitudes from middle-aged and elderly folks—but if sacrifice were truly necessary, then you lot should whip your own bent backs and step forward to become sacrifices of your own accord.
Sacrifice is an act that should be performed spontaneously; it is not something to demand of others.
A sacrifice forced upon others differs entirely from true sacrifice—it amounts to viewing people as slaves.
Even acts of repaying labor with mere words while maintaining appearances are, at their root, relics of feudal and slave-era customs.
The devaluation of material things and exaltation of the spiritual constituted nothing but sophistry required to exploit humans like unpaid slaves.

In reality, when an order was established where everything that could be handled materially was indeed handled materially, truly substantial manners and morals emerged clearly into the surface of real life.
That is to say: If a habit had been established where people’s labor were always duly compensated, and if it had become understood that village development depended on roadwork—yet without funds, no development could occur unless a “righteous person” emerged to volunteer—then they would have taken the lead themselves and silently undertaken roadwork service.
Was it not indeed the natural and proper state of a village that those who truly cared for it served silently, and thus the mayor and influential figures involved in village governance naturally became righteous themselves, leading to governance by the righteous?
It was precisely through establishing an order dictating that labor must always receive its due reward that, contrarily, the foundation for true righteous people to emerge was formed.

“Report for conscripted labor on roadwork projects. Or else provide tea and sweets”—this sort of coercive governance still persists in rural areas to this day. It’s only natural that this young man resists. What else can those who truly love Japan and desire to make it a better, more livable nation do, if not resist village administrations that keep succumbing to such dark and violent politics? There’s no need to proclaim grand ideals or debate national governance. Simply resisting the lawlessness around us and striving to ensure proper democratic governance in our own villages should suffice.

Poor young man.
Is your village truly such a sad, dark, benighted place?
Do not succumb to such benightedness and violence.
Do not compromise with the likes of village bosses.
Your allies, your friends—there’s no way I’m the only one.

Japanese villages were simply dreadful.
There were no self-serving schemers or cunning sophists like farmers.
If anyone truly believed those claims about rural purity—that these “pure and simple” farmers were genuine patriots loving the Emperor—the nation would only plunge back into militarism, spiral into madness, and become an irredeemably foolish barbaric state.

However, in any case, that your company hadn’t fired you in defiance of the village’s schemes was a bracing relief.
I pray you calmly uphold your convictions with integrity and diligently discharge your company duties.
Should any trouble arise, write me again.