Pathway to Japanese Literature

I The wild bush clover curving toward the fence—even the dew beneath had now taken on autumn hues. People vied to hasten their return. Having long held pride of place among Komatsu Hot Springs' scenic beauties, every corner of Umeya—once so bustling—now found its lively atmosphere softened by the mournful deer whistles echoing from beyond the ridge, until even the footsteps traversing its corridors grew tinged with loneliness. From behind the carriages, many more—loaded with travelers’ bags and passengers—raced off toward the train station a ri ahead. The maids, long accustomed to serving meals and tea, watched their retreating figures and stood still for a time. The water of the winding mountain stream murmured as it flowed into the distance. Was that a thrush singing in the distant forest?

Even these mountains, unacquainted with daily rhythms, now bore unexpected wisps of smoke from annual summer visitors, their tile-roofed houses visible here and there through the leaves. A cloud rested upon the ridge—born from the roots of an exceptionally tall pine, it drifted over ivy clinging to rocks. The continuous peaks hid the sky over the village below, while countless cascading waterfalls tossed their silver threads in wild disarray. To the north stretched an endless vista—sturdy deer fences and distant rows of clattering scarecrow devices—while autumn in the mountain fields took on a busy air. To the west lay the distant course of water—range upon range of mountains and clouds; birds soared high as leaves turned of their own accord. A few grass-cutting children, leading their horses with carefree hearts and singing a lively tune in unison, had just now begun ascending the foothills of the outlying mountain.

The waves of Lake Ogi were exceedingly calm. The storm-summoned leaf boats—even the shadow of the island slipping into concealment could faintly be seen. Just as the pine wind swept through, a wondrous koto sound arose in a room on the second floor. The newly arrived guest in the detached room inclined his ear. The voice that began singing along with the strings overpowered the water choking between rocks and skillfully flowed through a passage from Ikuta; perhaps moved even more deeply, the guest set aside his tobacco and involuntarily looked up toward her. The shoji screens stood as a partitioning barrier, while the pine tree indifferently cast shadows in the Korin style. The guest shifted his gaze to survey the valley below, yet his ears remained ensnared by the melody; twisting his mustache, he stayed motionless. The beads scattered down, and suddenly the dense koto playing flowed forth once more; a clear, smooth voice then arose in turn. The guest looked up toward her again.

He called out to a maid passing through the corridor, and when he asked who the singer was, she looked at his face and laughed oddly. So she must indeed be a beauty. When he pressed further with questions, she—as if declaring “I couldn’t possibly say”—turned crimson and scurried off toward the back room. No doubt she had told her fellow maids about it; this would surely become gossip fodder among them. The guest smiled as he watched her retreating figure, then stepped out onto the veranda overlooking the water and leaned against a nearby chair. The koto player continued pouring forth her unsparingly beautiful voice.

The guest was Okumura Tatsuya—a rising secretary in a certain ministry who, having unexpectedly fallen ill and obtained official leave, had now come to Umeya this very day to recuperate after finally returning to his post. The splendid attire and magnificent beard compelled the innkeeper to rush out from the front desk, and under deferential bows he was ushered into this detached guest room boasting the finest view. His face, though that of a man around thirty, appeared more weathered; yet one seasoned maid discerned an ineffable charm in those keen eyes, making him the playful subject of her friends’ chatter. Tatsuya was naturally quick to adapt, having in an instant become someone with whom one could feel at ease. The innkeeper, overwhelmed by the exorbitant tea money, hastened to change his attire and come forth to pay his respects—but upon hearing “the Secretary,” he redoubled his reverence.

The koto soon finished its piece, and the voices conversing quietly could not be clearly heard. Tatsuya too now gazed at the opposing scenery, his heart already no longer present. At that very moment, the shoji swiftly slid open, and the person within appeared to step out. Tatsuya’s ear was first to catch the sound, and he turned around. At the railing appeared an elderly man nearing fifty with a full-moon face, vigorous even at first glance. So corpulent his bones seemed buried beneath flesh, clad in a square-sleeved robe like Hotei incarnate, he turned smiling toward the shoji—then at the close of an approaching remark arched his back and burst into laughter. No shadow of the person inside could be seen.

As if mocking me, Tatsuya rose from his chair, stepped down into the garden, and made straight for the eastern riverbank. Among pine trees crawling across the ground, stones hewn into disorderly formations could be seen here and there that had naturally become makeshift seats. The water struck rocks and shattered against them in white and blue torrents before entering a cluster of green bamboo and emerging before a distant hill. The bridge spanning the stream had small brushwood at its base lined with dark wood and precariously entwined with wisteria vines. If one crossed the bridge and cut through the mountain there was a small waterfall that had seemingly cascaded down without artifice. Ascending the path—meant for woodcutters and merely brushing aside dew-laden thorns as it lay in its natural state—one found at the mountainside where pine and maple branches intertwined a gazebo of striking purity. The mountains abruptly parted and Lake Ogi appeared before his eyes like a mirror.

Having laid out a round mat, Tatsuya rested his body, already wearied despite his recent convalescence. The particular building of Umeya, positioned with mountains at its back and water before it, stood as an exceedingly elegant structure of thoughtfully considered design. In an upper-floor room where he had unexpectedly cast his gaze, Tatsuya perceived something once more. Leaning against the open shoji, there stood a young woman facing this way. She must be the singer, Tatsuya immediately thought. Though her face remained obscured at a distance, the pale hue of her slender features stood out distinctly, and her gracefully upright posture appeared all the more comely. Absentmindedly looking up this way, she seemed startled by the presence of someone intently watching her and hurriedly concealed herself within the room. Tatsuya finally descended as well.

Though the days at the hot spring resort stretched long, noon arrived all too soon. Having just finished reading the two or three newspapers that had arrived, Tatsuya changed into the inn’s yukata and headed to the bathhouse. As he stepped out into the wide main building corridor, from the opposite end came a person wiping their glistening neck with a steamy damp towel while passing by to return toward the staircase base. It was a young woman. That person—Tatsuya had already fixed his eye upon her. Her figure was as imagined—exceedingly beautiful. Though unadorned, her hundred natural charms gained an added luster from her post-bath complexion, while stray hairs—unable to resist clinging to cheeks pale yet warm as snow—radiated allure. Her faintly visible dimpled smile beneath those emotion-laden eyes moving with unconscious grace, her elegant demeanor all the more impossible to overlook—ah, Tatsuya found himself momentarily frozen.

At that very moment, the Hotei-like man seen earlier descended the second floor leisurely with a towel in hand; the young woman who had begun ascending looked up and said, “Oh Father, are you going to bathe again?” “No restraint at all,” he laughed without a trace of guilt. The fragrance of his smile defied description. Parent and child, national beauty, Tokyo connection—repeating these words in his heart, Tatsuya made his way to the bathhouse. The one approaching from behind was Lord Hotei. Pulling open both right and left sliding doors of a single newly constructed bath chamber—skillfully positioned in the upper section—the two entered together. Tatsuya’s voice initiating unreserved conversation was immediately audible.

Before long, the two men emerged wrapped in rising steam, already engaged in amicable conversation. Among the approachable people of the hot spring resort, Tatsuya was indeed the quickest at such things. As they were parting ways to their rooms, he said, "Please do come visit me sometime." "I’m dreadfully bored." Lord Hotei departed with those words. "Please do visit me as well," Tatsuya added without lagging in courtesy, lightly bowing. Thus Tatsuya learned that this Hotei was named Miyoshi Zenpei. As for the daughter—the youngest child called Mitsuyo—he also incidentally discovered she was a cherished one. The Miyoshi name belonged to a well-known financier. Good. Excellent. As for the days to be idly spent hereafter, let there be at least one diversion for the heart. "A splendid quarry," he mused while leisurely smoking his cigar. After a moment's pause: "The financier too proves most intriguing." "Alas, let me not lose this opportunity," he murmured, tilting his head with a solitary smile as he exhaled another plume of smoke.

The clouds over the mountain peaks chased one another as they flew. The pines and distant mountains vanished from view. Rain? The clamorous cries of birds.

Two Having opened their hearts to each other over a half-day game of Go, Zenpei particularly rejoiced at having gained Tatsuya. The string of characters denoting "Secretary of Such-and-Such Ministry, Rank Such-and-Such" resonated powerfully with old-fashioned sensibilities, and considering it a personal honor to associate with such a man, having been visited, he promptly returned the call while earnestly desiring to grow even closer. He was a talented man. He kept praising him as quite a talented individual, and found that very lack of arrogance truly impressive. The charm of his conversation. Having been thoroughly impressed by each instance of his social grace and skill in dealing with people, he concluded privately: “Someone like Tsunao could never hope to match this.” Though Mitsuyo had been listening nearby, she pressed her knees forward as if confirming her stance: that Mr. Tsunao was younger, more refined, composed, and spirited—far superior to that man. “Hey, I wasn’t going to say that in front of you.” As Zenpei burst into laughter, she protested, “Oh, I didn’t mean it that way at all.” “I merely meant it this way,” she said, her face already flushing faint pink. “You’re so mean, Father,” she added, fidgeting with the fastening cord of her obi sash.

When Tsunao was mentioned—having sent word he would stop by on his return journey—Zenpei teased, “You must be overjoyed,” to which Mitsuyo turned her back sharply in a girlish display of anger and retorted, “I know nothing of such matters.” Zenpei laughed as he mused, “Ah well... Should Tsunao come, you two would surely join forces to corner me.” If they grew even more domineering, it would prove unbearable. Perhaps I should flee to Mr. Okumura’s quarters? Thinking how this one had formidable backing indeed, he tapped his pipe lightly against his back and chuckled heartily in self-satisfaction.

Mitsuyo turned around and looked at him resentfully. “Father, why do you favor Mr. Okumura so?” “What do you mean by ‘why’?” “I praise him because he deserves praise—isn’t that reason enough?” said her father as he flicked his tobacco ash. “Even so, isn’t he still a stranger?”—the daughter’s face bore a knowing expression. “Hmm, I see.” “Are you displeased that I don’t favor Tsunao?” “Well now, that’s perfectly reasonable.” “No no—Tsunao’s an upstanding fellow through and through.” “As you say—young and refined, then what else… hmm, composed and spirited, and if more’s needed—learned, capable, handsome, upstanding… ah, exhausting—a young man without a single flaw to be found.”

“You do go on so about such things.” “If Mr. Tsunao comes, I’ll have him give you a proper scolding—so there.” “You’re truly detestable, Father,” Mitsuyo grumbled with increasing vehemence. “Oh dear—I’ve gone and upset your mood.” Pulling the nearby air pillow closer, Zenpei reclined while imagining how he’d relish showing this scene to Tsunao—his face maintaining its sardonic smile.

"Such impertinence! Then please keep teasing me forever," she said. "Father, you know...acting like that...I can only imagine how terribly you speak of someone like me behind my back." "From now on, I shan't take Father's words as truth anymore, I'll have you know." "You don't dote on me half as much as you should." "That's why you sneaked off to the theater without me when I was home last time." "I shall resent you terribly—mark my words."

"Hmm, terrifying," he thought. "If you resent me, I'll grow sleepy," Zenpei mused to himself before closing his eyes outright. "You mustn't fall asleep like that!" "I can't bear being this lonely!" Mitsuyo approached and shook him. "Well then—have you apologized?" he asked, barely opening his eyes. "I've no reason to apologize," she countered. "It's Father who should apologize!" Rolling onto his back while muttering "Why? Why?", Zenpei let a smile slip through. "Even so—after tormenting me so!" Mitsuyo retorted, her beautiful eyes narrowing slightly. "What torment could I possibly inflict?" "You're getting upset over nothing by yourself!" "Why, Tsunao here is truly a man without equal."

“You’re talking about Mr. Tsunao again.” “Why, Mr. Okumura is simply a most splendid gentleman.” “I have truly, truly, truly, truly, truly, truly gotten angry!”

“Hahahaha.” “You’ve gotten ‘truly’ angry—terribly so.” “You’ve gotten angry there.” “There’s no need to announce your anger each and every time.” “Since you’ve gotten truly angry, shall I laugh falsely, falsely, falsely?” “Do as you please.” “I… I… I’m going home.” “I’ll go home and tell Mother, and have her take revenge for this.” “Mr. Tsunao and I were noticed by Mr. Okumura.” “I no longer need any of it—the yuzen-dyed fabric prepared for me earlier, that gold hairpin, the obi, the ring—none of it.” “Give every last one of them to Mr. Okumura.” “As for that haori of yours, Father—the one you ordered tailored the other day only to leave it abandoned at home—I’ll gladly botch cutting it on purpose and turn it into a tattered mess.” “And as for that Ninsei incense case of yours—the one you praised so highly after the tea ceremony last time—I’ll smash it against a stone and shatter it completely, so there.”

Zenpei paid no further heed, gazing at the ceiling with a broad grin as he thought—indeed, Tsunao was truly an admirable man.

As if to say “Again, again—Father, really!”, Mitsuyo started to rise and abruptly yanked away the pillow with a backhanded motion—whereupon Zenpei’s head thudded down, and with a pained “Ow—that’s cruel,” he scowled and laughed. “Serves you right!” Mitsuyo snatched up the pillow’s plug and discarded it, then with both hands had already halfway crushed it. Reluctantly, Zenpei sat up. “Then shall we brew tea for reconciliation?” “Bring out those dried sweets we brought,” he said. “I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Mitsuyo replied, her irritation still simmering. “Then perhaps I shall go fetch some hot water.” Mitsuyo stood up while holding the folded pillow. “Don’t say such things—just bring this out,” he called up from below. Whereupon Mitsuyo struck a pose, bold and haughty, declaring, “I shall go fetch the hot water.” “You should have Mr. Okumura put it out.”

Three

“Are you out for a stroll?” The voice came from behind—Tatsuya. Mitsuyo started and turned around; unable to hide her surprise yet managing a proper greeting—“Isn’t the view splendid?” “You—have you been to the lakeside?” he inquired. “No—not yet. In truth, I’ve only just left the inn,” she replied with reserve, her words faltering and face naturally tilting downward—whereupon he suggested, “Then let us walk together hereabouts.” “With spirits so refreshed today, this weather seems tailor-made for strolling, wouldn’t you agree?” “Father went out somewhere earlier, did he not?” he added in his customary light tone.

"But since I mustn't let Father return and worry, I cannot venture too far," Mitsuyo said, shifting restlessly on her feet. "Well, from our room, the entire area lies completely visible," Mr. Okumura countered. "Moreover, since I shall be accompanying you—though I concede this sounds rather suspect—I mean to ensure you needn't fret over such matters in the least. Though if you find it disagreeable, there's nothing for it." Mitsuyo hesitated, unable to voice her refusal—a reluctance Tatsuya instantly perceived. With practiced nonchalance, he continued: "I too grow dreadfully bored shuffling about alone. That you appeared just as I wished for company must be fate's design. Though it may inconvenience you, do humor me awhile." "In return," he added amiably, "I shall grant any request of yours, however unreasonable."

Unable to refuse, Mitsuyo finally relented. It was morning. The sky stretched clear as an upturned bowl, the white clouds clinging to the peaks with nowhere to wander, while the snow crowning distant summits shone with particular brilliance. Indigo mountains rose before them and ink-dark ridges loomed behind; as they walked through bowing plumes of bush clover, wild chrysanthemums, and golden lace, stones grew more numerous while pines took on ever greater charm—until suddenly the glimmering lake’s reflection leapt to meet their eyes. In his relentless pursuit to curry favor, Tatsuya willingly positioned himself as guileless. From trivial worldly anecdotes he shifted to more amusing current trends, leapt to theater, ventured into music—exhausting every possible means to engage his companion’s interest. Mitsuyo merely offered perfunctory replies, never once venturing to initiate conversation.

“Shall I make a strange confession?” Tatsuya smiled. “How many times do you think I’ve heard your koto besides that occasion at Nasuno?” “Not this again,” Mitsuyo interjected as if fleeing forward. “Oh my, do look over here. Have we not come to a place with splendid scenery? The appearance of that island defies description.” With an affected “Oh, how beautiful!” she ended the conversation. The renowned wild bush clover grew thickly in narrow clusters, their upper leaves rustled by a wind that quietly shattered the ripples lapping ashore. This was the lakeshore. The rival peaks cast their full shadows upon the water as a rowing boat pressed through far above them. Pine-clad islets and solitary rocks—mountains stood apart from the mundane world while crystalline waters stretched endlessly clear; fishermen’s chants and water chestnut gatherers’ songs drifted through hazy mists beneath an arching sky. Leaning against a fallen tree, Mitsuyo rested awhile. The wind swept through the powdery mist, carrying a sensual fragrance to Tatsuya.

“Let us return.” “Father will be returning soon.” And Mitsuyo stood up. “There’s nowhere around here to rest properly—you really shouldn’t linger.” And Tatsuya finally resolved to await another opportunity. Along the way, Tatsuya attempted various topics of conversation, but Mitsuyo offered only cursory replies, her attention never truly engaging. Visibly displeased himself, Tatsuya too appeared to sink into contemplation. The two of them walked in silence.

“Oh.” At Mitsuyo’s exclamation, Tatsuya raised his downcast face to see Zenpei approaching from the opposite direction, accompanied by an unfamiliar man gesturing toward them. Mitsuyo’s face brightened visibly as she called out “Mr. Tsunao!” and immediately began hurrying toward him. “When did you arrive? You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited!” “While you were away,” she said with coquettish eyes turned to her father, “Father kept bullying me endlessly.” Laughing as she faced Tsunao again, she added, “I shan’t lose to him now! Why didn’t you come sooner?” “How cruel!” “He pays no heed to me at all—it’s too dreadful!” “What an unsightly beard you’ve—” she began, but noticing Tatsuya—who had just arrived—with his own thick black whiskers, she turned halfway back and affected an abrupt change in manner. “Oh, forgive me! Ohohoho!”

“This is my relative, Tōjō Tsunao.” Having been introduced by Zenpei, Tatsuya offered his usual casual greeting though his mind seethed uneasily. What manner of man was this pale, fastidious-looking suspicious fellow? He still could not grasp Mitsuyo’s conduct. Though suspecting this might be the case, he betrayed no hint and maintained nothing but a cheerful façade. Countless times wounded by Tsunao’s haughtily dismissive treatment—as though flicking him aside with the tip of his nose—Tatsuya’s socially seasoned self laughed it off with practiced ease; yet Tsunao showed not the slightest inclination to engage him further. “Mitsuyo,” he said, “I’ve brought you a souvenir. Care to guess what?” “Try guessing,” he added without so much as a glance.

Zenpei stood alone between them trying earnestly to make them grow close. Hearing him referred to as Secretary,TsunAo looked down upon this pitiful wretch adrift on worldly tides; learning he had been called,a scholar who graduated last year in philosophy,TatsuyA secretly sneered at what he saw as an idiot burying his life within utterly impractical abstractions. Zenpei remained cheerfully oblivious,certain they must come to respect one another,and smiled contentedly by himself. "Do show me my souvenir soon." Mitsuyo cooed with affected sweetness.

There was no place for proper conversation here. Zenpei suggested, “Shall we return to the inn and share a drink?” “An excellent proposal,” Tatsuya replied without hesitation. “Come along now, Tsunao,” Zenpei said, turning around. Tsunao responded coldly, “Yes, let us go.” Each wrapped in their own thoughts, the four began walking. “I’ll go ahead for my souvenir!” Mitsuyo cried, throwing down the wildflowers she’d gathered and dashing off like a child. Her hem fluttered wildly—snow chasing crimson. Voices from Umeya called out welcomes.

IV

"That utterly insolent Tōjō—treating people like dirt!" Tatsuya gulped down the sobering water in one go, alone in his room, eyes blazing as he stared fixedly ahead. "What does that bastard take me for?" Though unspoken, the insult had been clear. "You'll pay for this." "I'll trap him neatly in my palm and crush him to dust." "I'm no thumb-sucking fool who lets prey slip away." "What I target never escapes." "My position with Mitsuyo is secured." "Grinding that smug face into the dirt would be easier than breakfast." "Don't you know me?" "Don't you know me?" "Hahahaha! Typical scholar's impracticality." "Stupid bastard." "No—time for strategy." "Strange." "Strange." "Just when I'd started enduring the tedium, a fine distraction appears." "I'll handle this perfectly." "This is where my prowess shines." "Well now—things grow interesting."

Mitsuyo squealed shrilly. A single strike to bind his wings. Will I let him utter a word of refusal? But there’s no one else with his looks. First, I should treasure this opportunity. Father... Father. Father will never let him escape. I’ll skillfully persuade him. This inescapable debt of mine. Yes—this works, that works too. Now, to weave the scheme. Swiftness is best in these matters. “Speed is the essence of war.” I’ll chase the momentum and begin at once. Alright. Let’s begin. Delay means loss—hurry, hurry!

Turning around, he pressed the electric bell on the pillar. Without even waiting a moment, one of the maids came running. "Now then, go to Mr. Miyoshi's place and tell him I'd like to have him defeat me in another debate. There's also other business to discuss, so if he's free, please ask him to come at once." "Go and tell him that." "Hurry, understand?" Oh! The comb fell.

＊　　　　＊　　　　＊ “That’s just your stubborn ounce talking.” “You needn’t reject him so vehemently.” “No matter what you say, he’s someone who’s become a Secretary.” “You should try compromising a bit and socialize with him.” Though Zenpei attempted to placate him, Tsunao remained resolute. “No—I shall never consent to associate with such a man.” “A man whose very appearance reeks of superficiality—frivolous, impulsive, thoroughly detestable in every regard.” “I cannot bear even the sight of his face.” “I had come here with such anticipation, only to have all my interest drained because of that man.” “What benefit could there be in associating with such a man?” “And what exactly do you find so commendable that you’ve taken a liking to such a man?”

“I don’t like that man either, somehow,” Mitsuyo said, toying with her ring.

“Exactly.” “That’s precisely how it should be.” Tsunao tapped his pipe once. The sound grated on Zenpei’s ears, and his smiling face clouded slightly, but social interaction meant that no matter who someone was, their merits would surely emerge if sought—finding each other’s strengths to enjoy together. “You’re growing more obstinate by the day.” “You can’t bulldoze through society like that.” Yet his voice retained its calm.

"However," he thought bitterly through clenched teeth, "where does that man have any redeeming qualities?" Zenpei began with "First of all—" before cutting himself short mid-sentence: "Enough! Dislike him however you please." "I'll socialize with him my own way," he declared through tight lips, "and speak no more of this matter." "Isn't that arrangement satisfactory?" "There's no value in us making each other red-faced like quarreling children." Though displeasure colored his features like storm clouds gathering,Tsunano maintained his obstinate posture: "Be that as it may—were this anyone else,I might relent.But precisely because it's you,I'm compelled by honor to voice my convictions without reserve." "I must categorically forbid this association."

“Shut your mouth!” A rough voice finally erupted. “I won’t hear another word!” “What now?” “That’s going too far!”

“Oh Father, have you become angry?” “Mr. Tsunao didn’t speak with ill intent, you know.” “Why ever are you making such a face?”

Ugh, stay out of it. This is none of my concern. Just as she clamped her mouth shut at the sudden impulse, Tatsuya’s messenger arrived in haste and delivered the exact message as instructed. Zenpei, half in stubbornness, promptly answered that he agreed and departed.

Tsunao crossed his arms and leaned forward, looking down. Mitsuyo glanced anxiously between them, then stopped her father as he began to rise. “Father, wouldn’t this make us both feel wretched?” “Please go reconcile with him.” “This troubles me so.”

At the feigned meekness in her bowed head, Zenpei momentarily halted and turned back. Tsunao kept his stern countenance unsoftened, brows knit together in silent resolve. Seeing that this one’s heart too blazed with fervor—very well, let him stew!

Zenpei brushed off his sleeves and left with loud footsteps. Tsunao sank into dejection and fell completely silent. The stream’s flow suddenly became audible yet went unheard.

“Mr. Tsunao, why do you dislike Mr. Okumura so intensely? Why don’t you just humor him properly? Oh, please try to handle it that way somehow. When things come to this,” Mitsuyo said earnestly, “I don’t know which side to take anymore—I truly feel like bursting into tears. If you can, please try to regain your composure.” “Huh? You—” she peered into his face with a charm that naturally drew people in.

Moved perhaps, Tsunao raised his face and slightly composed himself. Yet his words yielded no further ground. "I cannot bend my principles." "That man will never be to my liking." "I spoke from conviction in the first place—if Uncle won't employ him, so be it. But tell me—what do you think of him?"

“I may not understand much myself, but someone so talkative must have little substance beneath the surface.” “Hmm, well said.” Tsunao let slip a smile. “You still understand better.” “That’s admirable.” Though unadorned, his face held genuine warmth. “And you know, there’s something unsettling about him.” “Whether it’s just my imagination or not, there’s something undeniably strange about it all.”

“Why?” Tōjō Tsunao sent her a piercing look. “Oh... It’s nothing really... Just... I can’t help feeling something’s amiss.” “That’s why I dislike him.” Her eyes conveyed what words left unspoken. Tsunao scoffed coldly—as though acknowledging such underhandedness might indeed lurk beneath that man’s dealings. Let them utter but a whisper of this scheme, and I’ll make them choke on their own shame. To become that creature’s prey would be a fate crueler than death itself.

"I'm so terrified of what might become of me that I can't bear it. So please, while we're here, stay by my side—I beg of you." When I think such things, it feels endless..." "Umm..." She laughed shyly and said, "Well, let's stop."

“What was she talking about?” Tsunao let out a clear laugh for the first time—but no, even though I’ve come all this way, given how Uncle is acting, that man will likely intrude here daily. Just seeing him irritates me beyond measure—there’s absolutely no chance of this ending peacefully. I might as well just return immediately. “Oh, if you do such a thing, it would only provoke Father further. And as for me—well, what exactly do you intend to do? I would be left alone—no, rather, if you are to return, I shall go back with you.”

“That won’t do,” Tsunao said firmly. “You must tend to Uncle. You remain Miyoshi’s daughter. Do you hold no regard for Uncle? What nonsense is this weeping?” “But even so, I—” “You’re being cruel!” She caught the sleeve of her juban between her teeth. “Then let us beg Father together and all return home! Why must you show such callousness? You care nothing for me! Does my anguish please you?”

“You mustn’t say such things.” Tsunao smiled bitterly. “To prevent future complications, I shall discreetly caution Uncle.” “Nor do I particularly wish to return myself.”

“No—I won’t go back.” Mitsuyo twisted petulantly.

There was no use prolonging this trivial talk any longer. Were we not about to be parted again for some time? Yet you showed me such a face.

“No—I won’t let you go back, so there!”

Tsunao remained silent and looked down. Mitsuyo slid closer, peered into his face, placed her lovely hand on her knee, and said, “Do you truly wish to return so badly?”

Tsunao remained silent without so much as a glance. “In that case,” Mitsuyo said with childlike innocence, “would you take me with you instead?” “Huh?” She brought her face closer. “Please—take me with you.”

"Hmm—perhaps we should both return," Tsunao murmured inwardly. As he abruptly lifted his head，a tender light momentarily kindled in his eyes—only to vanish as swiftly as it appeared when he turned back to his book．"No．That isn’t right．" "You may remain here if you wish．"

“Oh dear, you’re saying such things again, you know.” “Very well then.” “I will go back by myself then.”

The ivy and vines left to their own devices and the hoarse singing voices of country guests could not be heard from a room away. As for medical care—the one kneeling in the corridor was an anma masseur.

＊　　　　＊　　　　＊

Tsunao remained unyielding and finally departed. As expected of him, he left behind a letter that conveyed his heart through brushwork—without informing Mitsuyo or Zenpei—and drifted away from Umeya. Clouds wandered and waters rushed; the carriage left its farewell echo in these mountains before vanishing entirely.

V

With a voice that had grown even more jubilant and fired up, calling "Tsunao! Tsunao!" from outside the room as he returned, it was none other than Zenpei. Mitsuyo, her face streaked with tears, sat despondent and did not rise to greet him.

“What?” “What’s wrong?” “Where did Tsunao go?”

“Mr. Tsunao has left.” Mitsuyo held out the letter. “Please look at this.” Zenpei did not take it. “What?” “Did he leave angry?” Dismissing him as a fool and brushing the matter aside—such things didn’t matter at all. Leave it be. He yanked the inkstone closer, dashed off three telegrams, summoned a maid and nearly whipped her out with an “Immediately!”, took neither pipe nor tea, face flushed and eyes fixed as if gazing at some fascinating shadow—treasure treasure—this was true buried treasure. With the Secretary’s backing secured at one’s spine, there could be no dispute. This was precisely why Tsunao proved useless—blind to such realities. At any rate—the famed Kijima Coal Mine! Two hundred thousand was absurdly cheap. Even fire-sale estimates pegged it at five hundred thousand yen! Annual yields hit hundreds of thousands—dividends outpacing any mine! Its coal quality surpassed even Miike’s famed deposits! Hundreds of thousands of tons yearly for naval contracts home and abroad—Fortune’s god had alighted in unlikeliest soil! Let others snatch this? Never! Still—Okumura proved competent. No path led to failure now—he’d long stopped caring what others thought.

Though unaware of what had transpired, Mitsuyo resented her father for failing to comfort her present languor. Discontent weighted with melancholy came to a head as she declared, “Father, since you refuse to listen, I too shall take my leave.” She said discontentedly, her tone edged with bitterness. Zenpei paid no further heed; in any case, if he could secure that coal mine, even the excruciating pain he had suffered since those ill-fated stock missteps could be completely healed. Moreover, the losses incurred by marine products due to the Sino-Japanese Incident could also be offset through this. “Indeed, I must see this through to success,” he muttered, losing himself as he grew increasingly animated.

“Father! Father, I said Father, I’m leaving!” Mitsuyo raised her voice and pressed with growing intensity. As if noticing her presence for the first time, Zenpei responded: “What? Leaving?” “I’m going back too.” I must return to Tokyo at once and settle all preparations. Mitsuyo—we must depart early tomorrow. At any rate, I must secure that coal mine by any means necessary. Half his mind had already been claimed by future prospects. When casually informed of their imminent morning departure, Mitsuyo found herself unexpectedly foiled—she had meant to slightly torment him into difficulty, reluctantly bend him to her will through their planned contest of resolve before returning together—but this outcome displeased her maidenly sensibilities. Though he had ignored her from the start, her dissatisfaction undiminished drove her closer still: “Father—this is true—Father—please listen earnestly!” “How vexing!” With nothing but a cry of “Father!” she resorted to pulling his ear. Zenpei snapped irritably: “Enough noise! Be silent.” “You’re disrupting my thoughts.” “Tch—go bathe or something.”

“Very well.” “Do as you please then!” Declaring this as was her wont, Mitsuyo turned away in a huff. Zenpei acted as though wholly unconcerned—by his second breath he spoke of the coal mine—his heart barely tethered to his body.

With rough rustling of tatami and violent scattering against the shoji, Mitsuyo stormed out of the room. At that very moment, Tatsuya was walking along the corridor leading to the main house. Meeting face to face on different levels, Tatsuya did not show his usual smile. Mitsuyo turned her eyes away from Onoe with a sullen face. Tatsuya suppressed a laugh and passed by.

Zenpei eagerly hurried back early in the morning. Though Mitsuyo’s face remained unsoftened by any comfort today as well, her heart rejoiced at soon departing this house. For the send-off, Tatsuya appeared. The moment she saw him, Mitsuyo frowned and turned her face away. Tatsuya and Zenpei whispered together for some time, and in the end exchanged knowing laughs. Mitsuyo pretended not to notice and stared fixedly elsewhere. At the moment of parting, Tatsuya said one thing: “Miss Mitsuyo, when you meet Mr. Tsunao, please give him my regards.”

VI

Meeting the shadow of Ueno’s forest, Mitsuyo finally let out her first sigh of relief. Without even waiting for tomorrow, she pleaded with her mother and received permission; nearly forgetting even her lingering shame, she went straight to Tsunao’s abode—alas, Tsunao had yet to return. As Mitsuyo turned back dejectedly, the autumn wind that knows one’s plight tousled her stray hairs, too disheveled to brush away.

From the moment he returned home, Zenpei did not let his seat grow warm; he rushed east and west, half-madly dashing about each day. Visitors bringing along groups of three or four would shut themselves away in a single room and frequently hold secret discussions. The day flew like an arrow as it grew more urgent.

On a morning when dew lay thick and mist hung white, with faint autumn hues glowing through the garden's enkianthus trees, Tatsuya suddenly arrived by carriage and entered cheerfully. Zenpei rose joyfully as if anticipating him and invited him upstairs. Mitsuyo shuddered inexplicably at his appearance. From that day forward, Tatsuya's visits to the Miyoshi residence became as ceaseless as waves battering rocky shores. His relationship with Zenpei grew familial in nature. Every household member knew Tatsuya was deeply involved in recent affairs. Following Zenpei's lead, none treated him with indifference. Tatsuya spun silken threads at will, ensnaring all within his web. Thus from lowliest maidservant to most senior retiree, he became their dearest intimate. The Miyoshi household and Tatsuya were now inextricably bound. Amidst them all, Mitsuyo alone seethed with anger. Though she saw no clear cause for it, her father's growing rapport with this increasingly detestable man stung like betrayal; her mother's unreserved welcome vexed; her sister's presumptuous familiarity rankled; her brother's forced smiles made her want to bite him—every direction proved intolerable until her fraying temper lashed out at maids caught unawares, their tearful bewilderment painting life itself as some unfathomable farce. Mitsuyo waited single-mindedly for Tsunao. Unaware of her turmoil, Tsunao never returned. She gazed alone at dawn and dusk clouds with melancholy grace. Her heart tightened around his unknown whereabouts—Where was he now? How fared he?—until her mirror showed hollow cheeks that soon blurred behind sighs.

Distracted in mind and sight, Zenpei hurriedly prepared from early morning in his bedchamber for today’s rare guest: *Sweep the garden! Lay out the cushions!* A silver-filigreed hand warmer from Ginsōya, a tobacco tray with rustic well-bucket motifs, his prized Tanyū triptych of *Three Evening Poems* displayed in the alcove, a Sōho-crafted flower vase showcasing autumn’s brocade across fields and mountains—ah, how it stirred the heart like Chikushigata’s tides! On the maki-e tray with plover-in-waves designs sat a Kamakura-era gold-sprinkled incense case, paired with a hammered celadon burner. Clutching silver leaf tongs, he inwardly nodded at the image of a firewood boat parting mist—*Let its course be known only by smoke’s trailing edge*—as if such elegance might veil all worldly concerns. To the side stood a cloisonné-inlaid rosewood table bearing a silver hawk figurine—perhaps counting this too among conversation pieces—while a resplendent gold screen displayed Kōrin’s lavish birds-and-flowers rendered with exhaustive craftsmanship. The splendid parlor’s Korean-edged blue tatami formed a setting so immaculate one might place jewels upon it without shame, while ahead, the tea garden displayed consummate *wabi* austerity—this dizzying interplay of opulence made the space itself a treasure worth acquiring. Even before his guest’s arrival, the master’s satisfaction—face smudged from sideways caresses of soot—surveyed every corner alone in rapt admiration.

“Yutaka, clean the go stones.” “Rikisuke—the water basins there. The thread-patterned bowls are in the storehouse.” “Nankin-dyed clam dishes... This will do, that too... Mitsuyo! Mitsuyo, where are you?” Summoned by insistent calls of “Mitsuyo! Mitsuyo!”, she reluctantly appeared before him. Zenpei pressed urgently: “Now then—today we have Mr. Okumura and other important guests. You must serve them drinks.” “Change your clothes and prepare immediately,” he commanded.

From the start Mitsuyo had shown no sign of approval and had only half-listened, but today she declared, “I have a stomachache, so I must beg your pardon.” With her usual willfulness flaring up at such moments, she abruptly rose from her seat without another word. That day she ultimately did not show her face beyond the room. Before long arrived a dark-bearded guest in a three-quarter Western suit; entering the parlor they first shifted to hushed secret talks, but soon—as if signaled by them spreading out to both sides—Zenjirou’s painstakingly prepared dishes were brought forth on trays and cups. Hearing the already uproarious laughter and chatter from afar before the toasts had even reached halfway, Mitsuyo bit back tears of frustration. Amidst the parlor’s flurry of activity, not a soul came to visit here—a grievance that lodged itself in her heart.

Dusk turned to night; silver candles cast their glow. After the guests had finally dispersed, only Tatsuya and Zenpei remained. Having prepared new dishes in a separate room, the two threw themselves into intricate discussions. Zenpei set down his cup during a pause. "In that case, you wouldn’t object to this arrangement." "The mediation fee is somewhat modest, but we’ll set it at 10,000 yen for now. Upon success, we shall present an annual gratuity of 1,000 yen each year." "What? Are you saying your colleagues and the others who collaborated with you today should also receive a portion of these installment payments?" "Well now—that may indeed be a valid form of payment," he said, "but promptly consulting with our comrades on that matter will allow us to arrange it one way or another. As for your service fee, we shall first fix it at that amount. Above all else, by intercepting Kunitomo Shokai’s application midway and submitting mine to the authorities at the earliest possible moment—to bring this matter to a conclusion posthaste—I would ask for your immediate efforts. Once settled, we can finalize the remuneration without any particular hindrance, wouldn’t we?"

Tatsuya shook his head cheerfully. “Now, my argument lies precisely here. While your reasoning—that hurrying the document submission would let other matters follow later without issue—is indeed valid, regarding the application matter, as I’ve explained before, I alone cannot handle this situation. Originally, I handled Kunitomo Shokai’s case, but now the Bureau Chief has taken charge, superficially managing everything for the company. If their application is completed tomorrow or within two or three days and submitted by the company to the ministry headquarters, there will be no good opportunity to obstruct it en route. Therefore, our only option is to preemptively bring that Bureau Chief to our side, skillfully persuade him, and send him on a distant trip before things escalate.” “While keeping the Bureau Chief away from Tokyo and preventing him from remotely pushing through the company’s application during his travels, I’ll use my methods to position the Superintendent—that thick-whiskered man who came earlier—at the forefront of this operation. I’ll pull strings discreetly without direct involvement. However, should anything go wrong, our three lives would have to be sacrificed for your sake. If this happens after success, it might be manageable—but considering what followed the teahouse incident you know of, if such conduct were exposed to society again, it would truly be disastrous.”

“Now regarding my earnest request—as I mentioned earlier—that matter must absolutely be settled here with your consent. Furthermore, there is another request of a different nature from our current discussion that I must urge you to consider. However, we can address that later. For today, Mr. Miyoshi, could you not arrange to promise at least the terms we discussed earlier? Once successful, a net profit of 300,000 yen could be realized as soon as tomorrow itself.”

Responding with nothing but “Indeed, indeed,” Zenpei raised his cup again. “That does make sense, ah.” “When you consider how it began—this most curious twist of fate that brought me unexpectedly into your presence—it was through such happenstance that this consultation became possible.” “Since both the inception and resolution of this matter rest entirely upon your devoted efforts alone—and in deference to those efforts—” [he paused briefly] “—very well.” “I shall grant you that much.”

Leaning forward, Tatsuya smiled all the more cheerfully. At last having secured consent, this Okumura too felt relieved. “However,” he said while brushing ash from his cigar, “no matter the outcome, you will surely have no objections when the time comes. “Depending on circumstances, we too are resolved to resign en masse from our official positions and work together permanently in the private sector.” “Of course, should the matter collapse and we gain not a shred of profit—what then?”

“Very well—I’ll halve our mediation fee,” he said with smiling eyes, “but should our long-anticipated scheme succeed—what then?” “In that case,” came the reply, “should it lie within my power to fulfill your wish—be it a residence or villa—I shall naturally provide proper gratitude separately.” “Ah, I gratefully accept your generous consideration.” With another polished smile, Tatsuya pressed playfully: “Hmm—‘should it lie within your power to fulfill my wish,’ you say? You must promise that, Mr. Miyoshi.”

“Well now, what sort of wish might that be?” Driven by intoxication, Zenpei leaned forward. “To put it plainly—if I may first state my wish—it would be something like desiring to receive what you’ve arranged.” Tatsuya replied in a heightened voice. “Well now—” “That sounds like quite the suggestive riddle.” Zenpei erupted in laughter. “Ah, that riddle we shall have you solve another day.” “First, as a preliminary celebration, let us toast anew.” Tatsuya extended the sake cup. With no drinking partner left to challenge him, Zenpei had already grown drowsy.

The matter proceeded smoothly as intended without hindrance. Item one: a modest gratuity, 25,000 yen in gold. Tatsuya stayed in Shimbashi that night as usual.

VII

The report of Tsunao’s belated return reached the Miyoshi household through intermediaries. However, he did not readily show his face here, which Zenpei, being worldly-minded, found greatly displeasing. First of all—"He's despised me from the start"—thus the relationship between uncle and nephew was gradually becoming strained. Mitsuyo’s mother, who had always disliked scholars, did not remain silent on such occasions. Given Tsunao’s usual heartlessness, such treatment was hardly unexpected. Not only had he failed to visit after the recent fire, but even his belated congratulations for the recent childbirth had arrived long past the appropriate time—such were the endless faults enumerated against him, this man so woefully ignorant of social graces.

Unable to bear it any longer, Mitsuyo secretly visited Tsunao. Tsunao was not at home. Mitsuyo waited and waited as long as time allowed. Tsunao did not return in the end. Having roused her weeping self and dejectedly arrived home at last, she found that Tsunao had come during her absence. Ah, how utterly ill-fated this was. And Mitsuyo wept inwardly.

In the inner rooms, Zenpei was seething with rage like a raging fire. Rather than looking at his daughter, he barked: “Mitsuyo—the engagement with Tsunao is off.” “I can’t hand you over to some stubborn, incomprehensible fool.” “Consider every promise made up to this moment null and void.”

＊　　　　＊　　　　＊

The campaign concerning the disposal of Kijima Mine developed into an increasingly fierce competition between rival parties. Even the faction affiliated with Kunimoto Shokai remained locked in unyielding opposition against one another. To compound matters, the number of competing bidders now rose to several, escalating the so-called estimated prices until figures of 350,000 yen were being cited. With no sign of this competition ceasing easily, even those in authority could no longer manage the situation—there they resolved to issue a cabinet order. As this cabinet order had established regulations concerning the leasing or disposal of mines, even those disposal applications were compelled to be resubmitted once more in accordance with it.

That cabinet order was to appear in the official gazette the very next day. Okumura Tatsuya suddenly summoned Miyoshi Zenpei in secret to the upper floor of a meeting house, informed him of the impending crisis, and thus announced that the final great victory now loomed before them. “Now then, as the longstanding matter intensifies—with the rival Kunimoto faction’s usual maneuvers proving relentless—both sides have entered an extraordinary competition. You have exerted prolonged efforts thus far, but I hear the minister in charge will likely issue a single cabinet order around tomorrow to decisively settle the contest. However, this remains the utmost secret; beyond the minister himself, no one in the ministry knows of it.”

With a triumphant smile that seemed to silently demand attention, Tatsuya exultantly blew a quiet stream of cigar smoke. Miyoshi Zenpei—having listened intently upon hearing this crucial scheme—raised his face and inquired: "What sort of regulations would govern its awarding?" "Now, these regulations are hardly complicated," came the reply. "The necessity for issuing this cabinet order lies in its provisions: applications fulfilling all stipulated conditions will be promptly approved, while non-compliant ones will be collectively rejected. Should multiple compliant applications exist, the first submitted will be adopted. Therefore, if we finalize our strategy tonight and submit our documents immediately upon the order’s publication in the official gazette, the flag will undoubtedly rise in our hands."

“Given such circumstances, I would like us to prepare the disposal application tonight without delay—though what immediately troubles me is how precisely to draft said application.” Having anticipated such procedural matters through prior arrangements, he had finally obtained the cabinet order draft that very day. “Oh!” Zenpei instinctively leaned forward. “This surpasses all expectations! If I may speak plainly—your swift maneuvering leaves me in sincere admiration as always.”

A glint flickering through Tatsuya’s eyes now pounced to seize this opportunity. Sliding his knee forward triumphantly, he produced a copy of the draft. Holding it aloft with a lightened tone, he said, “Mr. Miyoshi—here it is. But this comes with a reward.”

Zenpei, without a moment’s hesitation—his mind half consumed by the draft—said, “Yes yes—whatever it may be.” “It’s nothing other than that.”

With a short laugh, Tatsuya barged in. "The other day—that cryptic remark I made—about Miss Mitsuyo." "You’ve likely surmised what I ardently seek." "Is this acceptable?" "I have received it."

＊　　　　＊　　　　＊

I do not know what happens after this. It is said that Tatsuya had recently taken a wife. Who might that wife be?

In the depths of a certain study there existed one who had cast aside worldly vexations into the very heart of a dust heap and devoted what remained of his life to the pursuit of a grand philosophical truth. Who might that person be?

The wind over the bush clover; the paulownia has become nothing but branches. Whose fate will tomorrow bring?