Pathway to Japanese Literature

(I)

At the northern edge of the lone tree field, there was a slightly elevated mound. Dogtooth grass grew thickly across the mound, and at its very center stood a single beautiful female birch tree. It was not particularly large, but its trunk gleamed glossy black, its branches stretched out beautifully; in May it bore white flowers like clouds, and in autumn rained down leaves of gold, crimson, and countless other hues. Therefore, migratory cuckoos and shrikes, as well as small wrens and Japanese white-eyes—all of them perched on this tree. However, whenever young hawks or similar predators appeared, the small birds would spot them from afar and never venture close.

This tree had two friends. One was the Earth God who lived in a disorderly marsh some five hundred paces away, and the other was a tawny fox who always came from the southern part of the field. If anything, the Birch Tree preferred the Fox. For though the Earth God carried a divine title, he was thoroughly uncouth—his hair like frayed skeins of cotton thread, eyes burning red, garments akin to seaweed, perpetually barefoot with long black claws. Yet the Fox presented an exceedingly refined manner and seldom did anything to provoke or displease others.

Yet if one were to compare these two carefully, the Earth God was honest while the Fox may have been somewhat dishonest.

(II)

It was a certain evening at the beginning of summer. The birch tree was covered in new soft leaves, filling the air with fragrance, while in the sky, the Milky Way stretched faintly across and stars quivered, swayed, flared, and vanished everywhere. The Fox had gone to play beneath it with a poetry book. He wore a brand-new navy suit, and his red leather shoes clicked sharply.

“It’s a truly quiet evening, isn’t it?” “Yes.” The Birch Tree replied softly. “Scorpius is crawling over there.” “In ancient China, they used to call that big red one ‘Fire.’” “Is that different from Mars?” “It’s different from Mars. Mars is a planet, but that one is a true star.” “What do you mean by planets and stars?” “Planets, you see, are those that don’t emit their own light.” “In other words, they receive light from elsewhere and only appear to shine.” “Stars, on the other hand, are the ones that emit their own light.” “The sun is of course a star.” “It’s so large and bright, but if viewed from an immense distance, it would still appear as a small star, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh my, so the sun was also one of the stars after all.” “Looking at it that way, there are so many suns in the sky—Oh! I mean stars—Wait, no, that’s strange—there is a sun here after all.” The Fox laughed magnanimously. “Well, that’s correct.”

“Why are there red ones, yellow ones, green ones among the stars?” The Fox laughed magnanimously once more and crossed his arms high above him. The poetry book swayed precariously, yet stubbornly refused to fall. “Why is it that there are orange and blue and all sorts of colors among the stars?” “It is as follows.” “Stars in general initially existed as hazy cloud-like masses.” “There are plenty in today’s sky as well.” “For example, they can be found in Andromeda, Orion, and Canes Venatici as well.” “The one in Canes Venatici is a spiral.” “Then there are also Ring Nebulae.” “Since it’s shaped like a fish’s mouth, it’s also called the Fish-Mouth Nebula.” “There are indeed plenty of those in today’s sky as well.”

“Oh my, I want to see them someday.” “Oh my, how magnificent a star shaped like a fish’s mouth must be!” “That is indeed magnificent.” “I saw it at Mizusawa Observatory, you know.”

“Oh my, I want to see it too.” “I’ll show you.” “I’ve actually placed an order for a telescope with Germany’s Zeiss.” “It should arrive by next spring, so when it comes, I’ll show you right away.” The Fox had unintentionally spoken these words. And he immediately thought: Ah—I've gone and told another lie to my one and only companion. Ah, I'm truly a hopeless fool. But I didn’t say it with any ill intent. I said it thinking to make her happy. "I'll tell her everything properly later," the Fox had been thinking like this while remaining silent for some time. The Birch Tree, knowing nothing of such things, said joyfully.

“Oh my, I’m so happy.” “You’re truly always so kind.” The Fox answered somewhat dejectedly. “Yes, and I would do anything else for you.” “Would you care to take a look at this poetry book?” “It’s by someone named Heine.” “It’s a translation, but it’s quite well done.” “Oh my, may I borrow it?” “Not at all.” “Please take your time looking through it.” “Well then, I’ll take my leave now.” “Hmm, it seems I’ve left something unsaid.”

“It’s about the colors of the stars.”

“Ah, right! But let’s save that for next time.” “I shouldn’t overstay my welcome.” “Oh, it’s quite all right.”

“I’ll come again, so goodbye for now.” “I’ll leave the book here for you.” “Well then, goodbye.”

The Fox hurriedly returned home. And then, as leaves rustled in the south wind that had blown in at that moment, the Birch Tree picked up the poetry book the Fox had left behind and, holding it up to the faint light from the Milky Way and stars that filled the sky, turned its pages. In that Heine poetry book were Lorelei and a multitude of beautiful songs. And the Birch Tree continued reading all night long. Only when Taurus rose from the east past three o'clock in that field did she doze off just a little.

The night ended. The sun rose.

Dew glistened on the grass, and all the flowers bloomed with all their might.

From the northeast direction, bathed in the morning sun as if drenched in molten copper, the Earth God came slowly, slowly. He came slowly, slowly, crossing his arms with an air of affected wisdom.

The Birch Tree, seeming somewhat troubled for some reason, nevertheless turned toward the approaching Earth God, blue leaves glittering as they moved. Its shadow fell upon the grass, flickering and wavering. The Earth God came quietly and stood before the Birch Tree.

“Miss Birch Tree. “Good morning.” “Good morning to you.” “You know, when I really stop to think about it, there’s so much I don’t understand—an awful lot that’s hard to grasp, you know.”

“Oh my, what might those be?”

“Take grass, for instance—it comes up from black soil, so why’s it so green?” “Even yellow and white flowers bloom from it.” “I just can’t figure it out.”

“Might it not be because the grass seeds possess blue and white?” “That’s right.” “Well, if you put it that way—but I still don’t get it.” “Take autumn mushrooms—they sprout up from soil without seeds, yet come red or yellow. Don’t get it.” “Why don’t you ask Mr. Fox about it?” The Birch Tree, entranced by last night’s starlit conversation, inadvertently said this.

Hearing these words, the Earth God suddenly changed color. And he clenched his fist.

“What the—” “Fox?” “What had that Fox been saying?” The Birch Tree’s voice trembled anxiously.

“He didn’t say anything in particular, but I thought you might know if I mentioned it.” “What in the world is this—a god being taught things by the likes of a Fox? Bah!” The Birch Tree, now thoroughly frightened, trembled and trembled uncontrollably. The Earth God gnashed his teeth with a grating sound while folding his arms high and pacing around the area. The shadow fell jet-black upon the grass, and the grass too trembled in fear.

“A Fox is truly a plague upon this world.” “Not one truthful word escapes him—cowardly, timid, and eaten alive by envy.” “Damnation! Presuming above his beastly station!”

The Birch Tree finally regained her composure and said.

“Your festival is drawing near.” The Earth God’s expression softened slightly.

“That’s right.” “Today is May 3rd—six more days.”

The Earth God had been thinking for a while, but suddenly raised his voice again.

“However, humans are impudent. “Lately they haven’t brought even a single offering to my festival! Damn it! The next one who first sets foot in my domain—I’ll drag them down to the muddy depths for sure!” The Earth God again ground his teeth sharply. The Birch Tree, having spoken in an attempt to placate him only for things to turn out like this yet again, was at a complete loss over what to do next, her leaves fluttering restlessly in the wind. The Earth God, bathed in sunlight as if ablaze, crossed his arms high and ground his teeth sharply while pacing restlessly about the area, but the more he thought, the more everything seemed to grate on his nerves. And finally unable to endure any longer, he let out a howling roar and violently returned to his marsh.

(III)

The Earth God’s dwelling was a cold wetland about the size of a small racetrack, where mosses, bindweeds, and short reeds grew—though here and there stood milk thistles and low-growing willows twisted into grotesque shapes. The water lay damp beneath them while red iron ooze bubbled up across its surface everywhere one looked—a thick muddy sludge that made for an eerily unpleasant sight. At the very center of this mire rose what resembled a small island bearing the Earth God’s shrine—a six-foot-tall structure cobbled together from rough-hewn logs.

The Earth God returned to that island and stretched out at length beside the shrine. And he vigorously scratched his black, emaciated legs. The Earth God saw a bird flying straight over his head. Immediately, the Earth God sat up and shouted, “Shoo!” The bird, startled, staggered as though about to plummet, then—as if its wings had gone numb—gradually descended lower and lower while fleeing away.

The Earth God smiled slightly and got up. But when he immediately looked toward the high ground where the Birch Tree stood, his face abruptly paled and he froze in place. Then, in a manner that clearly showed his irritation, he began frantically scratching his disheveled hair with both hands.

At that moment, a woodcutter came from the southern edge of the marsh. He seemed to be heading toward Mitsumori Mountain for work, walking with long strides along a narrow path that traced the marsh’s edge. Yet it appeared he knew of the Earth God’s presence, for he occasionally cast wary glances toward the shrine. However, to the woodcutter, the Earth God's form remained invisible.

When the Earth God saw this, he flushed with delight, his face turning bright red. Then he thrust out his right hand toward that direction and, with his left hand, grabbed its wrist to pull it toward himself. Then came the strange thing: the woodcutter, thinking he was walking along the path, found himself gradually stepping into the marsh. Then, as if startled, he quickened his pace, his face turned pale, and he opened his mouth to gasp. The Earth God slowly rotated his right fist. Then the woodcutter gradually began walking in a wide circular path, but as his panic grew severe, he started circling the same spot over and over, panting heavily all the while. It seemed he was desperately trying to escape from the marsh quickly, but no matter how much he rushed and rushed, he only kept circling the same spot. Finally, the woodcutter began to cry helplessly. And then he raised both hands and started running. The Earth God, grinning with evident delight, lay sprawled out watching this, but soon—when the woodcutter, completely beside himself with panic and exhaustion, collapsed with a splash into the water—he slowly rose to his feet. And squelching through the mud with great strides, he walked over there and flung the woodcutter’s collapsed body out toward the grassy plain beyond. The woodcutter thudded heavily into the grass and seemed to move slightly while groaning, but he still hadn’t regained consciousness.

The Earth God laughed loudly. His voice transformed into an eerie wave that traveled skyward. The voice that had risen skyward soon rebounded and came crashing down upon the Birch Tree as well. The Birch Tree gasped, her complexion turning translucent blue in the sunlight as she trembled restlessly, restlessly.

The Earth God，looking unbearably agitated，frantically scratched his hair with both hands as he thought. The reason I'm so miserable is first and foremost because of Fox. It’s more for Birch Tree than Fox. It’s for Fox and Birch Tree. But as for Birch Tree，I’m not angry. It's because I don't get angry at Birch Tree that I'm in such pain. If I didn't give a damn about you，Birch Tree，then Fox wouldn't matter one bit. I may be base，but I am still a god by station. And having to worry about things like Fox is just pitiful. Even so，since it weighs on my mind，there’s no helping it. Forget about Birch Tree. But try as I might，I just can’t forget. This morning I turned pale and trembled. That splendidness of hers—I just can’t forget it. In my fit of irritation，I tormented that pitiful human. But there's no helping it. When anyone’s in a fit of irritation，you never know what they’ll do.

The Earth God writhed in anguish alone, flailing about. Another hawk soared across the sky, but the Earth God this time said nothing and silently watched it. Far, far away came the sound of gunfire—rat-a-tat-tat—like salt crackling, likely from cavalry exercises. From the sky pulsed a blue radiance flowing thickly down into the field. Perhaps having swallowed that glow, the woodcutter who had been thrown into the grass earlier finally regained consciousness and timidly rose to his feet, anxiously scanning his surroundings.

Then he suddenly stood up and fled in a headlong rush. He fled headlong toward Mitsumori Mountain.

The Earth God saw this and laughed loudly again. The sound traveled once more toward the blue sky, then midway—with a crash—came crashing down toward the Birch Tree. The Birch Tree gasped again, her leaves shifting color as she trembled with imperceptible delicacy.

The Earth God paced restlessly round and round his shrine many times until he finally seemed to calm down, then vanished as if melting into thin air and entered the shrine.

(四)

It was an August evening thick with fog.

The Earth God wandered out of his shrine gripped by indescribable loneliness and unbearable irritation. His feet had turned toward that Birch Tree before he knew it. Truly whenever he thought of her his chest would thud inexplicably. And he was terribly sorrowful. Lately his state of mind had greatly changed for the better. So he tried not to think about Fox or Birch Tree yet found himself dwelling on them helplessly. Day after day he repeated—Am I not at least a god? What worth could one Birch Tree hold for me? Even so sadness overwhelmed him. Especially recalling Fox brought pain like his body burning.

The Earth God gradually approached the Birch Tree while deeply pondering various matters. Before long, he finally realized with clarity that he himself was heading toward where she stood. Then suddenly his mood began to soar. Since he hadn’t visited her in some time—it occurred to him that perhaps she might be waiting—and the more this thought took hold, the more convinced he grew—if true, how terribly pitiful for her—this notion now arose powerfully within him. The Earth God stomped through the grass with heavy steps and strode forward, his chest pounding. Yet even his vigorous strides eventually faltered until he stood frozen, drenched from head to toe in azure sorrow. This was because the Fox had arrived. Though night had fully fallen, from beyond the fog thickened by dim moonlight came drifting the Fox’s voice.

“Yes, of course that’s right. Just because something mechanically fulfills symmetrical laws doesn’t thereby make it beautiful. That is dead beauty.” “That is absolutely true.” The Birch Tree’s quiet voice came.

“True beauty isn’t some fixed, fossilized model like that.” “Even if something fulfills symmetrical laws, what’s truly desirable is that it possesses the spirit of symmetry—that’s all one can say.”

“I truly think so.” The Birch Tree’s gentle voice came again. The Earth God felt as if his entire body were burning with flickering peach-colored flames. His breath quickened until it became truly unbearable. What makes you so wretched? Is it just some brief conversation between the Birch Tree and Fox in the field? To have your heart unsettled by such trifles—can you still call yourself a god? The Earth God berated himself.

The Fox spoke again. “Therefore, any aesthetics book discusses at least this much.” “I have many books on aesthetics.” The Birch Tree inquired. “Well, nothing excessive, but I do have most in Japanese, English, and German.” “The Italian ones are new, but they haven’t arrived yet.” “Oh, your study must be so splendid.” “Oh no, it’s utterly scattered about—and since it doubles as my laboratory, you see. Over there in the corner lies a microscope, here’s the London Times, a marble Caesar rolling about—it’s absolute chaos.”

“How splendid! Truly splendid!” The Fox let out a snort that sounded both modest and boastful, followed by a prolonged silence. The Earth God could no longer stay still. When he listened to what the Fox was saying, indeed the Fox was greater than he was. The conviction that he was at least a god—something he had until now drilled into himself—now eluded him. Ah, this agony, this torment! Should I rush out right now and tear that Fox to pieces? But such an act shouldn’t even cross my mind in dreams! Yet what am I but something inferior even to that Fox? What in the world should I do? The Earth God writhed as if clawing at his chest.

"That telescope you mentioned still hasn't arrived." The Birch Tree spoke again.

“Yes, the telescope from before? “It still hasn’t arrived.” “It’s taking quite some time.” “The European shipping routes are rather disrupted, you know.” “As soon as it comes, I’ll bring it right over to show you.” “Saturn’s rings—they’re truly beautiful, you see.”

The Earth God suddenly covered both ears with his hands and ran headlong northward. He grew terrified at not knowing what he himself might do were he to stay silent.

He ran off at full speed. The place where he collapsed, breathless, was at the foot of Mitsumori Mountain. The Earth God clawed at his hair while rolling through the grass. Then he cried out loud. That voice, like untimely thunder, soared to the sky and was heard throughout the entire field. The Earth God cried and cried until exhausted, then dazedly returned to his shrine at dawn.

(5)

Eventually, autumn finally arrived. The Birch Tree was still deep green, but the grasses in that area had already put out their golden spikes glistening in the wind, and here and there the lily-of-the-valley berries had ripened red.

On one of those clear golden autumn days, the Earth God was in an exceptionally good mood. All the various painful thoughts since summer had somehow blurred into something like a splendid haze that seemed to form a ring above his head. And now that his strangely spiteful nature had vanished somewhere—if the Birch Tree wanted to talk with Fox, let her; if they could both converse happily, that would truly be good—thinking this as he resolved to tell her so today, the Earth God walked toward the Birch Tree with lightened heart.

The Birch Tree was watching him from afar.

And yet again, she waited trembling with worry.

The Earth God walked forward and casually greeted.

“Ms. Birch Tree.” “Good morning.” “It’s truly fine weather.”

“Good morning.” “It is lovely weather.” “Providence is truly a blessed thing. “Spring is red, summer white, autumn yellow, and when autumn turns yellow, the grapes turn purple.” “It’s truly a blessed thing.” “That is indeed so.”

“I’m feeling very good today, you know. From this summer onward, I’ve truly endured all sorts of hardships, but finally, since this morning, my heart has suddenly felt lighter.”

The Birch Tree tried to respond, but for some reason found it so overwhelmingly oppressive that she couldn't bring herself to reply.

“I’d give my life for anyone right now. If an earthworm does not have to die, then I can take its place.” The Earth God looked at the distant blue sky as he spoke. His eyes were dark and splendid. The Birch Tree tried once more to respond, but something felt unbearably oppressive—she could only manage a faint sigh.

At that moment.

The Fox arrived.

The Fox paled upon seeing the Earth God there. But he couldn’t turn back, so he advanced toward the Birch Tree while trembling slightly.

“Ms. Birch Tree, good morning. That’s the Earth God over there, isn’t it?” The Fox, wearing red leather shoes and a brown raincoat while still sporting his summer hat, spoke these words.

“I am the Earth God.” “It’s fine weather... hmm.” The Earth God said this with a truly cheerful heart. The Fox, his face pale with jealousy, said to the Birch Tree.

“I must apologize for intruding while you have a guest.” “This is the book I promised you the other day.” “And I’ll show you the telescope on some clear night.” “Goodbye.”

“Oh, thank you very much,” the Birch Tree said, but even as she spoke, the Fox had already begun briskly retreating without greeting the Earth God. The Birch Tree turned pale and quivered with agitation once more. The Earth God stood blankly watching the Fox depart until the sudden glint of red leather boots in the grass startled him back to awareness—his head spun suddenly. The Fox walked steadily away, shoulders stiffened in stubborn defiance. The Earth God seethed with anger. His face turned a terrible jet-black. “With his damned aesthetics books and telescopes—now you’ll see!” he suddenly gave chase after the Fox. In a panic, the Birch Tree’s branches trembled violently all at once, and the Fox—sensing something amiss—casually glanced back only to find the Earth God, now fully blackened, storming after him like a tempest. The Fox’s face instantly paled, his mouth twisted, and he bolted away like the wind.

The Earth God felt as if all the surrounding grass had transformed into blazing white fire. Even the azure sky that had been shining moments before suddenly became a gaping dark void—at its bottom, he imagined crimson flames roaring as they burned. The two of them charged forward like a steam engine, bellowing thunderously.

“It’s over, it’s over—telescope, telescope, telescope,” the Fox kept repeating in a corner of his mind as he ran as if in a dream.

Ahead stood a small reddish-bald hill. The Fox tried to enter the round hole beneath it and spun around once. Then, lowering his head and suddenly trying to leap into the hole—as he momentarily raised his hind leg—the Earth God had already lunged at him from behind. The next moment, the Fox’s body was twisted by the Earth God, his mouth contorted into something resembling a faint smile as he went limp and let his head droop onto the Earth God’s hand.

The Earth God suddenly slammed Fox to the ground and stomped on him four or five times in a squelching mess.

And then he suddenly jumped into the Fox’s hole. Inside was hollow and dark, with only red earth neatly packed. The Earth God, twisting his mouth open wide, felt somewhat strange and came back outside. Then he reached into the limp corpse’s raincoat pocket to check. Inside that pocket were two brown millet ears. The Earth God—his mouth still gaping open from before—now let out a tremendous wail as he began to sob.

The tears fell like rain upon the Fox, and with his neck now utterly limp and a faint smile on his face, he lay there dead.