Pathway to Japanese Literature

I The dew beneath wild bush clovers bending toward the wicker fence already bore autumn hues. People hastened homeward in competition. At Komatsu Hot Spring—foremost among scenic beauties—both upstairs and downstairs of Umeya Inn, once so bustling, grew lonesome under the spell of deer flutes sounding beyond the ridge; even footsteps crossing corridors turned faintly melancholy. Carriages outnumbering those before them raced toward the station one ri ahead, laden with travelers and baggage. Maids long accustomed to meal trays and tea service paused despite themselves to watch retreating figures stand motionless awhile. Before them flowed the mountain stream’s water murmuring into distance. Could that be a thrush singing in far woods?

The mountain areas, once untouched by the daily sustenance of morning and evening, now saw unexpected smoke increase from year upon year of summer retreat guests, and tile-roofed houses became visible here and there through the leaves. Clouds hung over the ridge—rising from the roots of an exceptionally tall pine, they drifted across vines clinging to the crag. The continuous peaks hid the sky over the village with its market, while the countless strands of the contending waterfalls scattered like silver threads. To the north stretched a vista boundless to the eye—deer fences stood sternly with clappers lining the distance, while autumn in the mountain fields hummed with urgency. To the west stretched water’s distant course—mountains layered upon mountains, clouds upon clouds—as birds soared high and leaves turned of their own accord. One or two grass-cutting children, leading their horses with carefree hearts and singing a merry tune, had just now begun climbing the foothills of the outlying hills.

The waves of Lake Ogi were exceedingly calm. The shadow of a leaf-like boat lured by the storm could faintly be seen retreating behind the island. As pine winds swept through, an exquisite koto melody arose from a room on the second floor. The newly arrived guest in the detached room listened intently. The voice that began singing along with the strings suppressed the water choking between the rocks, skillfully flowing through a passage from Ikuta; perhaps moved even more deeply, the guest set his tobacco aside and involuntarily looked up toward that direction. The shoji screens stood as a partitioning barrier while the pine tree unfeelingly cast Korin-style shadows. The guest turned his eyes to gaze down at the valley below, yet his ears remained drawn to the melody as if entranced; twisting his beard, he stayed perfectly still. The plectra scattered down in a sudden flurry of dense koto playing; once more it flowed forth, and a pure, smooth voice arose in turn. The guest once again looked up toward that direction.

Calling out to a maid passing through the corridor, he asked who the singer was; she looked at his face and laughed oddly. So she must be beautiful. When he pressed again—"Who is she?"—she flushed crimson as if to say "I know nothing," then scurried toward the back room. No doubt she was already sharing this morsel with her fellow maids. The guest smiled at her retreating figure, then stepped onto the waterside veranda and leaned against a chair. Still the koto player poured forth her voice without restraint.

The guest was Okumura Tatsuya—a clerk from a certain ministry and an up-and-coming man who, having requested official leave due to an unforeseen illness and only recently returned to his duties, had come to Umeya this very day to recuperate. His splendid attire and impressive beard sent the innkeeper rushing from the front desk, whereupon he was ushered under humble bows to this detached guest room boasting the finest view. His face, which should have been around thirty, appeared older than that, yet within those sharp eyes lay an inexplicable charm. One of the maids seasoned in dealing with guests noticed this, and soon it became fodder for her companions’ whispered jests. Tatsuya was innately quick to acclimate, becoming in an instant a gentleman with whom one could feel at ease. The innkeeper, having lost his composure over the excessive tea money, hurriedly changed his attire to pay his respects; upon hearing “the honorable Clerk,” he redoubled his reverence.

The koto soon finished its piece, and voices conversing quietly could be heard indistinctly. Tatsuya now gazed intently at the opposing scenery, his heart already no longer there. Just then, the shoji slid open abruptly, and the person inside seemed to step out. Tatsuya’s ears were the first to catch it, and he whirled around. The one who appeared at the railing was a vigorous-looking old man with a full, round face nearing fifty years of age. Corpulent to the point where his bones seemed buried beneath flesh, clad in square-sleeved robes like Hotei incarnate, he turned toward the shoji with an amused look—then, at the end of a remark addressed to him, leaned back and burst out laughing. The figure of the person inside was not visible.

As though mocked by unseen forces, Tatsuya rose from his chair, stepped down into the garden, and made straight for the eastern riverbank. Among pine trees crawling across the ground lay stones jutting in disarray—worn smooth into naturally formed seats visible here and there. The water struck rocks and shattered against them in white and blue torrents before entering a cluster of green bamboo to emerge before a distant hill. The bridge spanning the stream had blackened logs laid over small brushwood with wisteria vines entwined precariously. Crossing it revealed a mountain cut open where a small waterfall hung poised to fall as though by nature’s own design. Following what seemed merely a loggers’ path—lightly brushing aside dewy thorns while climbing the trail left in its natural state—he found at mid-slope, where pine and maple branches interlaced, a gazebo of striking purity. The mountains abruptly parted, and Lake Ogi appeared mirror-like before his eyes.

Spreading out an enza cushion, Tatsuya rested his body—already wearied despite being early in his convalescence. The single building of Umeya, positioned with mountains behind and water before, stood as a construction imbued with heartfelt care—exceedingly elegant. In a room on the second floor where a gaze had abruptly been fixed earlier, Tatsuya noticed something once again. Leaning against the opened shoji, there stood a young woman facing this direction. That must be the song’s owner, Tatsuya realized immediately.

Though her face was distant and indistinct, its slender pallor shone strikingly white, while her tall, graceful figure appeared all the more comely to behold. Having unconsciously glanced upward in this direction, she seemed to startle at finding herself observed so intently, hurriedly concealing her form within the room. Tatsuya at last made his descent.

The days at the hot spring resort felt endless, yet noon arrived all the same. Having just finished reading two or three newspapers delivered moments earlier, Tatsuya changed into the inn's yukata and headed toward the bathhouse. As he stepped out into the wide corridor of the main building, from the opposite direction came someone returning past the stairway—wiping their jade-like neck with a damp towel swirling steam. It was a young woman. Tatsuya already fixed his gaze upon that person. Her figure proved as beautiful as imagined. Though unadorned, her hundred natural charms—heightened in luster by post-bath radiance—exuded allure, a stray lock failing to cling to her warm snow-pale cheek. The faint suggestion of an incipient dimpled smile, eyes moving unwittingly with contained emotion, a graceful demeanor all the more impossible to disregard—ah, Tatsuya found himself momentarily paralyzed.

At that very moment, the Hotei-like man seen earlier—also holding a towel—came leisurely descending from the second floor. The young woman, who had been about to ascend, looked up and said, “Oh Father, are you going to bathe again?” “No restraint at all,” she laughed innocently. The fragrance of her smile defied description. Parent and child, peerless beauty, Tokyoite—repeating these words to himself, Tatsuya made his way to the bathhouse. The one coming from behind was Lord Hotei. Pulling open the right and left sliding doors of a single newly constructed bathroom of fine craftsmanship, the two entered together. Tatsuya’s voice, initiating conversation without reservation, was immediately heard.

Before long wrapped in rising steam, the two men emerged and were already engaged in open conversation. Among the amiable people of the hot spring resort, Tatsuya remained quickest at such rapport-building. As they parted ways toward their rooms at last, he invited cordially: “Please do come visit for a bit.” “I’m dreadfully bored.” With those words Lord Hotei took his leave. Tatsuya too gave a slight bow not to be outdone in courtesy—as if adding “You must visit mine as well.” Thus Tatsuya learned Lord Hotei’s name was Miyoshi Zenpei. The daughter was Mitsuyo, the youngest child—and through their exchange he discovered she was a cherished treasure. Miyoshi was a wealthy man of whom he had heard.

Good. Excellent. May there be at least one solace in these coming days that must not be vainly spent. "What a beautiful prey," he mused while leisurely puffing his cigar. After a moment: "And isn't the wealthy man quite the character himself?" "I mustn’t let this moment slip away," he resolved with a solitary smile tilting his head as he exhaled smoke once more.

The clouds over the mountain peaks chased one another as they flew. The pines and distant mountains were no longer visible. Rain? The birds’ cries grew increasingly clamorous.

II

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 designating "Which Ministry Clerk of What Rank" resonated particularly well with old-fashioned ears; considering it a point of personal pride to converse intimately with such a person, he wished to promptly return the visit after being called upon and earnestly desired to further deepen their amicable relations. A talented man. He kept praising him as quite the talented man, and that unassuming nature of his was truly remarkable. The charm of his conversation. Having been thoroughly impressed by his affability in social interactions, he muttered to himself that Takuo and others could hardly match him. Mitsuyo had been listening nearby. "Even so," she pressed forward emphatically, "that Mr. Takuo is younger, more refined, composed yet passionate—he’s far superior to that man." “Now, I wasn’t saying that in front of you.” As Zenpei burst into laughter, Mitsuyo protested, “Oh, that’s not what I meant!” “I was merely stating it as such,” she said, her face already flushing pale pink. “You’re so mean, Father,” she added, undoing and retying the cord of her obi sash.

When Takuo was mentioned—he having sent word that he would stop here on his return from his travels—Zenpei teased, “You must be overjoyed,” whereupon Mitsuyo whirled around to face away from him and retorted with maidenly anger, “I have no knowledge of such things.” Zenpei laughed. “Ah, but if Takuo comes, you two will gang up and corner me, won’t you?” “If you two get even more arrogant on top of this, I won’t be able to stand it.” “Maybe I should run off to Mr. Okumura’s place or something.” Here, thinking himself backed by formidable support, he gave his own back a light poke with the pipe and chuckled contentedly to himself—“Ha ha ha ha.”

Mitsuyo turned around and looked at him with a displeased expression. “Father, why do you favor Mr. Okumura so much?” “What do you mean ‘why’?” “If he’s praiseworthy, shouldn’t I praise him?” said her father as he flicked tobacco ash. Mitsuyo’s face bore a contemplative expression—Even so, isn’t he a stranger? “Hmm, I see.” “Are you displeased that I don’t favor Takuo?” “You’re absolutely right about that.” “Ah, Takuo’s an admirable man.” “Just as you say—young and refined... then what else... ah yes, composed yet passionate... and if needed, learned and skilled and handsome and upright—ah, I’m exhausted—a flawless young man without one flaw.”

“You do say such things so often.” “When Mr. Takuo comes, I’ll just tell him all about it!” “You’re truly detestable, Father,” Mitsuyo grumbled with mounting petulance. Oh dear—he’d gone and ruined her good mood. Pulling the nearby air pillow close, Zenpei reclined while imagining how he’d like to show Takuo this very scene, his face still wearing that mocking look.

“Very well. Please keep teasing me forever then. Father, you’re like this—who knows how terribly you might be speaking about me behind my back? From now on, I shall no longer take your words as truth—so there. You don’t dote on me nearly that much. That’s why—even when I was at home the other day—you went off to the theater without me. I shall resent you terribly, so there!”

This was rather frightening. "If you resent me, I'll grow sleepy." Zenpei closed his eyes just like that. "Oh, I won't have you sleeping like that." "I can't bear being left alone." Mitsuyo drew closer and shook him. "So you're apologizing now?" As he slightly opened his eyes, she said, "I have no reason to apologize." "You're the one who should apologize!" With a chuckle, Zenpei turned onto his back and let a smile escape. "Even so," Mitsuyo said, her beautiful eyes taking on a slight edge, "after tormenting me so much—" "What do you mean I'm tormenting you?" "You're the one getting annoyed all by yourself." "Well now, Takuo is truly a man beyond compare."

“You’re talking about Mr. Takuo again.” “Why, Mr. Okumura is such a distinguished gentleman.” “I am truly, truly, truly, truly, truly, truly furious!”

Zenpei laughed—"Ha ha ha ha."

“So very ‘truly’—” “You got angry.” “There’s no need to announce every single time you get angry.” “Since you got truly angry, I’ll laugh falsely—falsely—falsely.”

“Do as you please.” “I… I… I’m going home.” “I’ll go back and tell Mother all about it—I’ll have her take revenge for this.” Mr. Takuo and I were seen by Mr. Okumura. “I no longer need any of it—the yuzen-dyed kimono prepared for me the other day, that gold hairpin, the obi sash, the ring—none of it.” “Give every last one of them to Mr. Okumura.” “As for Father’s haori that you had tailored the other day and then left at home without taking—I’ll make sure to botch the cutting on purpose and ruin it with flaws, so there!” “And then there’s that Ninsei incense case you had prepared before the tea ceremony—the one you had brought down—I’ll smash it against a stone and break it to pieces, so there!”

Zenpei, utterly unperturbed, looked up at the ceiling and grinned. “Ah, Takuo truly is an exceptional man.” As if to say “Again—Father’s at it again!”, Mitsuyo sprang up and suddenly yanked the pillow from under him with a reverse grip. With a thud, Zenpei’s head hit the floorboards. “Ow—that’s harsh,” he grimaced in mock pain before chuckling. It served him right! Mitsuyo snatched up the pillow, tore out its plug, and with both hands began crushing it almost halfway immediately.

Reluctantly sitting upright, Zenpei proposed: “Shall we reconcile over tea?” “Bring out those dried sweets I brought.” When he said this, she replied, “I don’t know anything about them.” Mitsuyo, still simmering from their exchange, declared, “I shall go to the baths then.” She stood up while clutching the folded pillow. As he emerged from below urging “Don’t say such things—just hand this over,” she struck her finest pose with bold resolve and haughty dignity: “I shall go to the baths.” “Then have Mr. Okumura send it out for you.”

III

“Are you out for a stroll?” The voice that called out from behind was Tatsuya. Mitsuyo started and turned around; unable to conceal herself completely yet managing proper greetings: “Isn’t it a splendid view?”

“Have you been to see the lakeside?” he inquired. “No—I’ve only just left the inn,” she began with reserve, but her words faltered and her face naturally turned downward. “Then why don’t we take a short stroll around here?” “Today’s air feels refreshingly clear—perfect weather for walking, wouldn’t you agree?” “Your father went out somewhere earlier, didn’t he?” he added in his usual light tone.

However, since her father would worry if he returned and found her gone, she could not venture too far. Mitsuyo shifted uneasily. “Oh, from your room you can see everywhere around here clearly.” “Moreover, since I am accompanying you—though I must say it does look rather suspicious—I intend to ensure you needn’t worry in the slightest. However, if you find it disagreeable, there’s nothing to be done.” Mitsuyo hesitated to voice an outright refusal of “I would dislike it,” her pause observed by Tatsuya who then continued airily: “When I walk alone shuffling about, I grow bored immediately—how dreary. Just when I’d been wanting company, here you appeared through fate’s workings. Though it may trouble you, do accompany me for a while.” “In return, I will grant any request of yours, no matter how unreasonable.” he said amiably.

Unable to refuse, Mitsuyo finally complied.

It was morning.

The sky stretched clear as if turned inside out; the white clouds clinging to the peaks had nowhere to drift, and the snow lingering on lofty ridges shone with piercing brilliance—indigo masses lay ahead, ink-dark clusters behind. Walking through susuki grass, wild chrysanthemums, and maidenflowers bowing in waves, stones grew ever denser and pines ever more graceful until the glistening lake’s reflection abruptly greeted their eyes. In his relentless pursuit to win her favor, Tatsuya willingly adopted an air of guileless innocence. From trivial worldly anecdotes he shifted to amusing current trends, leapt to theater and ventured into music, exerting every possible effort to engage her interest. Mitsuyo merely offered replies to his remarks; she made no effort to initiate conversation herself.

“Shall I make an odd confession?” Tatsuya smiled. “How many times do you think I’ve heard your koto apart from that occasion at Nasuno?” As Mitsuyo stepped forward as if fleeing such talk, he interjected: “Ah, do look at this! Have we not arrived at a splendid vista? That island’s aspect defies description.” “Oh, how beautiful,” he concluded abruptly. The famed reeds grew densely in narrow spaces, their upper leaves’ wind quietly breaking the lapping ripples. Here lay the lakeshore. Rivalrous peaks stood wholly steeped in shadow as a distant boat rowed through them. Pines on islets, solitary rocks; mountains severed from the mundane world while waters flowed ever clear—fishermen’s chants and waterlily-gatherers’ songs echoed through hazy waves beneath an endless sky. Mitsuyo leaned against a fallen tree and rested awhile. The wind scattered powdery pollen, carrying its alluring fragrance to Tatsuya.

“Let us go.” “It must be about time for Father to return.” With that, Mitsuyo stood up. “There was no place around here to rest leisurely—this wouldn’t do.” Tatsuya too finally resolved to await another opportunity. As they walked, Tatsuya attempted various topics of conversation, but Mitsuyo offered only perfunctory replies, her mind clearly elsewhere. Visibly displeased himself, even Tatsuya appeared to sink into contemplation. The two walked in silence.

“Oh!” At Mitsuyo’s exclamation, Tatsuya raised his bowed face to see Zenpei approaching from afar alongside an unfamiliar man. Mitsuyo’s face visibly lit up as she called out to Mr. Takuo; immediately starting to run toward him while exclaiming, “Oh! When did you arrive? You can’t imagine how long I’ve been waiting!” “While you were away,” she said to Takuo with a coquettish glance toward her father, “Father kept tormenting me nonstop.” Then, turning back to Zenpei with a laugh: “I won’t lose to you anymore, Father!” Before swiveling again to face Takuo: “Why didn’t you come sooner?” “That’s too much!” “It’s cruel how you don’t care about someone like me at all.” “What an awful beard you’ve grown—” she began to say, but upon noticing Tatsuya—who had just arrived—and his jet-black beard, she turned halfway around with an abrupt shift in demeanor. “Oh, do forgive me! Oh-hohoho!”

"This is my relative—Tojo Takuo." Introduced by Zenpei, Tatsuya offered his usual casual greetings while concealing inner turmoil. What manner of creature was this pale, meticulous, suspicious man? He still couldn’t grasp Mitsuyo’s behavior. Though suspicions whispered Could it be...?, he maintained flawless composure without betraying a hint. Despite repeated wounds from Takuo’s haughtily dismissive treatment—as though being flicked from his nose—the socially adept man laughed casually away. Yet Takuo showed no interest in engaging him, instead addressing Mitsuyo: “I’ve brought you a souvenir. Care to guess what?” “Take a guess,” he added without turning his head.

Zenpei stood alone amidst them, single-mindedly striving to foster closeness between the two men. Upon hearing Tatsuya was a government clerk, Takuo looked down on him as a pitiful creature adrift in worldly currents; having learned Takuo had graduated last year in philosophy, Tatsuya secretly sneered at him as a fool who would bury his life in the most impractical abstractions. Zenpei, utterly guiltless in his conviction that they must surely hold mutual respect, rejoiced alone with beaming satisfaction. “Hurry up and show me the souvenir!” Mitsuyo said with coquettish affectation.

“You can’t hold a proper conversation here,” came Zenpei’s proposal. “Why don’t we return to the inn and share a drink?” “An excellent suggestion,” Tatsuya answered without hesitation. Zenpei turned toward Takuo. “Let’s go then.” “Yes,” Takuo replied coldly. “Let us depart.”

The four began walking, each absorbed in their own thoughts. "I'll go ahead for the souvenir," I said, casting aside the wildflowers I'd plucked, whereupon Mitsuyo dashed off like a child. Her hem fluttered briskly; snow pursued crimson. "Welcome back," called the voices from Ume-ya.

IV

"Tojo—that utterly insolent wretch who treats people as less than human," Tatsuya gulped down a draught of sobering water in one breath. Alone in his room, eyes gleaming as he glared fixedly at one point—Just what does he take me for? Though he didn’t voice it outright, he’d clearly humiliated me. You’ll see. I’ll skillfully take them in hand and shatter them to dust. I’m not one to let others snatch what I’ve set my sights on and stand by sucking my thumb. Once I set my sights on something, I never let it escape. I have indeed confirmed the relationship with Mitsuyo. Trampling that presumptuous face would be child’s play. Don’t you know who I am? Don’t you know who I am? Ha ha ha ha ha! He truly embodies the obtuseness of a scholar! Fool. No—it seemed high time to deploy political maneuvers. Something’s off. Something’s off. Just as he had nearly endured the hardship unscathed, a welcome diversion arose. I'll show them how perfectly this can be done. This is where my prowess lies. Well now, things are getting interesting—I see.

Mitsuyo squealed shrilly. In one strike, I'll clip their wings. I'll grant no chance for refusal. Yet his features remain peerless. First, I must handle this delicately. The old man—the old man. I won't let the old man escape. I'll deftly persuade that one. The debt I cannot shake. Hmm—either approach suffices. Now then—time to weave the scheme. Swift execution serves best. "In war, divine speed." Seize momentum and commence! Right. I begin. Delay spells loss—hasten!

Turning sharply, he reached for the electric bell on the pillar. Before a moment had passed, one of the maids came running. “Go to Mr. Miyoshi’s room—tell him I’d like to lose another game to him. There are other matters to discuss too, so if he’s free, please ask him to come at once.” “Go and tell him that, then come back.” “Hurry up, got it?”

"Oh! The comb fell."

＊　　　　＊　　　　＊

“That’s your one small concession.” “You shouldn’t dismiss it so harshly.” “After all, he’s attained the position of Clerk.” “You ought to bend your principles a little and try engaging with him.” To this mollifying counsel from Zenpei, Takuo straightened defiantly, his resolve unshaken—No, I shall never agree to associate with such a man. A man of shallow bearing, impetuous through and through—repellent even to insects. I cannot abide even glimpsing his face. I had arrived here full of anticipation, only for that man to render everything utterly tedious. What possible gain could come from mingling with such a creature? “What quality could possibly make such a man appeal to you?”

“I don’t really care for that man either,” Mitsuyo said, spinning her ring between her fingers.

Exactly. That’s precisely how it should be. Takuo tapped his tobacco pipe once. The sound grated on Zenpei’s ears, and his cheerful expression clouded slightly—but any person, he argued, would reveal flaws if scrutinized; true social interaction meant focusing on strengths for mutual enjoyment. “You’re growing more obstinate by the day!” “You can’t force your way through society like this!” Yet his voice retained its calm.

But where did that man have any merit? She started to say “First of all—” then stopped herself—enough already—you might dislike him by your own reasoning. I would associate with him in my own way; I resolved to say no more on this matter. That would be just fine. Blushing at each other seemed pointless. Even as dissatisfaction colored his expression, Takuo held firm. “Be that as it may—if this were anyone else—but since it’s you—I must declare my convictions fully.” “I must insist on restraining you.”

“Be silent!” The rough voice finally burst forth. “I won’t listen to another word!” “What?” “You’ve overstepped!”

“Oh Father, you’ve gotten angry.” “Mr. Takuo didn’t say it with any ill intent.” “What’s with that face you’re making?”

“Oh, just stay out of it!” This is none of your concern—the moment Mitsuyo clamped her mouth shut at the unforeseen interruption, Tatsuya’s messenger arrived in haste and delivered the exact message he had been instructed to relay. Zenpei, half out of stubborn resolve, answered his assent without hesitation and departed. Takuo crossed his arms and leaned forward, looking down. Mitsuyo looked concernedly between the two men, then stopped her rising father. “Father, if you leave like this, won’t we both feel unsettled?” “Please find a way to make up with him.” “I would be troubled.”

At the meekness of that bowed head, Zenpei paused for a moment and looked back. Takuo maintained his stern expression without softening, his brows drawn together in silence. Seeing that this one’s heart blazed just as fiercely—fine, let him stew!

Brushing off his sleeve, Zenpei exited with loud footsteps. Takuo sank into dejection and remained completely silent. The valley’s rushing water abruptly clamored, yet went unnoticed.

“Mr. Takuo, why do you dislike Mr. Okumura so much?” “Wouldn’t it suffice to humor him moderately?” “Oh, do make an effort to act that way.” “When things come to this, I don’t know which side to take—I truly feel like weeping.” Mitsuyo spoke earnestly, then added with a sigh, “If you can… please try to compose yourself.” “Hmm, you…” She peered into his face. The allure that captivated others lay plain to see.

Perhaps moved by this, Takuo raised his face and slightly composed his expression. Yet his words yielded no further. "I cannot bend myself. That man is absolutely not to my liking. Of course I had my reasons for saying that—if Uncle doesn’t employ him, that’s the end of it—but what do you think of that man anyway?"

“I may not understand well—being someone like me—but I think such a talkative person might have little substance at their core.” “Well said.” Takuo let slip a smile. “You at least still understand.” “That’s admirable.” Though unadorned, his face held genuine warmth.

And besides... there's something unsettling about that man. I don't know if it's just my imagination, but there's something undeniably strange about him.

When Takuo shot her a questioning look—“Why?”—she fumbled, “Oh, it’s nothing really… It’s just… well… there’s something suspicious about him.” That’s why I can’t bring myself to like him—her heart spoke through eyes and expression alone. With a sneer that seemed to say “Hmm,” Takuo thought that given that man’s nature, such a thing might indeed be possible. The moment he utters even a single word resembling that, I’ll make him suffer the humiliation of his own sentimentality. To fall prey to such a man would be a misfortune surpassing death itself.

“When I think about what might become of me, I’m so frightened I can’t bear it—so please, you must stay by my side while we’re here. I beg of you.” When I think such things, time just drags on... “Um…” she laughed bashfully, then added, “Well, let’s drop it.”

"What are you talking about?" Takuo laughed clearly for the first time, but—no—even though I had come all this way, given how Uncle was acting, that man would likely come barging in every day. Just seeing him irritated me beyond endurance; there was no chance this would end peacefully. I might as well return immediately.

“Oh, if you do such a thing, it would only provoke Father further—and then what do you intend to do about me? I can’t bear being alone—if you return home, I’ll go back with you.”

“That won’t do.” “You must attend to Uncle properly,” Takuo declared resolutely. “You remain Miyoshi’s daughter.” “Do you not care for Uncle?” “Why these foolish tears?”

Even so, I... You're being unreasonable. She began biting the sleeve of her underrobe, but then—very well—she would forcibly persuade Father and have everyone return home together. Why are you so lacking in consideration? You don't care about someone like me at all. Do you enjoy making me cry?

“If you say such things, it’ll cause problems now.” Takuo smiled wryly and said, “Well, to prevent any future complications, I’ll be sure to subtly caution Uncle.” “I don’t exactly want to return either.” “No, I won’t be sent back.” Mitsuyo persisted stubbornly.

No matter how long you kept spouting nonsense, it was futile. Even though we were about to part again for some time—must you make such a face?

No matter what—no! I won’t be sent back, so there.

Takuo remained silent and looked down. Mitsuyo slid closer, peered into his face, and resting her beautiful hands on her knees, said, “Do you truly wish to return so very much?” Takuo kept his mouth firmly shut without even looking. “In that case,” Mitsuyo said with childlike innocence, “why not just take me with you?” “Oh?” “Hey,” she brought her face closer, “please take me with you, won’t you?”

“Hmm—perhaps we should both just leave,” Takuo suddenly raised his head, a gentle light flickering in his eyes—but in the next instant he returned to his book and muttered, “No… that won’t do. You can just stay if you like.”

“Oh dear, you’re saying such things again.” “Very well then.” “I’ll go home alone.”

The ivy and katsura vines left to grow wild, along with the country guests’ raspy singing voices, could not be heard from the detached room some distance away. In the corridor, a masseur knelt practicing his therapy.

＊　　　　＊　　　　＊

Takuo, unyielding, finally departed. True to form, he left behind a single letter—having conveyed his heart through the brush—and departed Umeya with ethereal grace, informing neither Mitsuyo nor Zenpei.

Clouds drifted and waters rushed; the carriage left behind farewell echoes in these mountains, then vanished without a trace.

V

With his emboldened voice growing ever more jubilant, calling “Takuo! Takuo!” from outside the room as he returned—this was Zenpei. Mitsuyo, her face tear-stained, sat listlessly and did not rise to greet him. What? “What’s wrong?” “Where did Takuo go?”

“Mr. Takuo has gone home.” “Please look at this,” Mitsuyo said as she held out the letter. Zenpei did not even take it into his hand. “What?” “Did he leave in anger?” “Foolish boy,” he seemed to mutter before brushing the matter aside entirely—such things meant nothing. “Just leave it.” He yanked the inkstone closer, dashed off three telegrams, summoned a maid and practically drove her out with orders for immediate dispatch. Without touching his pipe or tea, his face flushed with excitement, he stared fixedly into space as if beholding marvels. “A steal—this is an absolute steal!” “No matter what—with the Clerk’s backing secured—there’s no contest.” “The problem is Takuo can’t see these opportunities.”

In any case, the renowned Kijima Coal Mine—200,000 yen was a ridiculously cheap price. Even at a fire-sale valuation, it carried a certified appraisal of 500,000 yen; annual excavation yields reached hundreds of thousands of yen—coal mines offering such profit dividends were practically unheard of. The quality of its coal far surpassed even Miike’s famed deposits, while annual sales amounted to hundreds of thousands of tons marketed domestically and abroad for warship use alone. Ah, the god of fortune had descended upon the unlikeliest of places! There was no way he’d let this slip into others’ hands! Still, Okumura proved a capable operator. “However you look at it, this won’t end badly,” he declared to the empty air before him.

Though unaware of what exactly had transpired, Mitsuyo resented her father for offering no comfort in her languid state. Melancholy-laden dissatisfaction showed in her bearing as she declared, “Father—since you refuse to resolve matters, I too shall return,” her words edged with bitter displeasure. Zenpei paid no heed; once that coal mine was secured, the agony suffered since that disastrous stock venture could be fully healed— nay, with the Sino-Japanese Incident’s impact on marine products, even those losses might be recouped through this scheme. “No—this must succeed,” he murmured feverishly, swept up in his calculations.

“Father! Father, for heaven’s sake—Father, I’m going home!” Mitsuyo said with growing intensity, her voice rising. Zenpei, as if noticing for the first time, said, “What do you mean ‘return’?” “I’m leaving too.” “I must return to Tokyo at once and finalize all necessary arrangements.” “Mitsuyo, let us depart early tomorrow.” “Even so—that coal mine—I absolutely must get my hands on it.” Half his mind was already captivated by what lay ahead. When told they would depart first thing tomorrow morning—so casually—Mitsuyo felt this abruptness defied expectation. She had intended to torment him just enough to make him yield reluctantly to her will, then return home together—but this strategic tension had been stripped away. Her maiden heart found this displeasing; displeasing from the start how he paid her no heed, displeasing still as she drew closer: “Father—is this truly happening? Ah, Father—please listen properly!” “This is maddening!” “Father!” she exclaimed, and with that pulled his ear. Zenpei said irritably, “Enough of this racket! Be quiet.” “You’re interrupting my thoughts.” “Tch! Go take a bath or something!”

“Very well.” “By all means, have your fill.” Mitsuyo declared as had become their custom, then sulked back to her room. Zenpei continued acting unconcerned—his second utterance invariably being “coal mine”—his mind scarcely tethered to his body. With rough rustling of tatami mats and violent slamming against shoji doors, Mitsuyo stormed out of the room. At that very moment along the corridor leading to the main house walked Tatsuya. Facing each other from upper and lower levels, Tatsuya did not display his customary smile. Mitsuyo turned her eyes toward the ceiling with a sullen face. Tatsuya suppressed a smirk and passed by.

With matters proceeding favorably, Zenpei hastened back at dawn’s first light. Today again, though Mitsuyo’s face showed no softening from remaining unconsoled, her heart rejoiced at leaving this house early. Tatsuya came out to see them off. The instant she saw him, Mitsuyo furrowed her brows and averted her face. Tatsuya and Zenpei exchanged whispered words for some moments before finally laughing together. Mitsuyo feigned ignorance and kept her gaze fixed rigidly into the distance. At their parting, Tatsuya offered one remark: “Miss Mitsuyo, when you meet Mr. Takuo, do give him my regards.”

VI

Greeting Ueno Forest’s shadow, Mitsuyo at last let slip a sigh of relief. Without waiting for tomorrow’s dawn, she had begged her mother and won consent; nearly forgetting even the lingering shame, she rushed straight to Takuo’s dwelling—only to find him still absent. As Mitsuyo retreated dejected, the autumn wind that knew her sorrow all too well disheveled the stray locks she could not tuck away.

From the moment he returned home, Zenpei found no rest—racing east and west in frantic frenzy, he rushed about daily as if half-mad. The guests, arriving in groups of three or four, would shut themselves in a single room and frequently engage in secret discussions. As the days grew more hurried, they flew like arrows. On a dew-laden, mist-pale morning when the garden’s spindle trees began to show hints of color, Tatsuya suddenly arrived by carriage, entering with a cheerful smile. Zenpei stood up joyfully as if he had been waiting and invited him upstairs. Mitsuyo shuddered involuntarily upon seeing his figure, though she couldn’t say why.

From that day onward, Tatsuya’s comings and goings to the Miyoshi household became as ceaseless as waves battering the shore. His relationship with Zenpei had grown akin to kinship. Every member of the household came to know Tatsuya was deeply involved in this affair. Following Zenpei’s lead, none thought it improper. Tatsuya spun spider-silk threads at will, ensnaring all within his web. Thus from the lowliest maid to the eldest retiree, he became their most intimate confidant. The Miyoshi household and Tatsuya were now inseparable. Standing amidst them, Mitsuyo seethed alone. Though she couldn’t name why this increasingly detestable man provoked such revulsion, she resented her father’s eager conversations with him, vexed by her mother’s unreserved acceptance, despised her sister’s complacent airs, itched to rebuke her brother’s ingratiating smiles—nothing pleased her from any quarter until her fraying temper erupted, leaving maids caught in the crossfire bewildered and tearful, their helpless faces reflecting this incomprehensible world. Mitsuyo waited single-mindedly for Takuo. Oblivious to her feelings, Takuo still did not return. She sat listlessly gazing at dawn and dusk clouds alike. Her heart ached with uncertainty about his whereabouts—where he might be now, how he fared—until the mirror showed her gauntness, soon clouded by sighs.

Zenpei, his gaze unfocused and mind adrift, rushed about preparing from the crack of dawn for today’s rare guest—ordering the garden swept and cushions laid out, arranging a Ginshōya silver-handled brazier and an Ikkan-tsurube tobacco tray. His prized Tanyū triptych hung in the alcove depicting three evenings of waka poetry; a Sōho-crafted flower vase displayed autumn’s brocade across field and mountain; a Chikushigata lacquered basin bore waves and plovers in mother-of-pearl inlay; a Kamakura-period gold-lacquered incense container accompanied by a celadon censer with hammered accents. Holding silver-leafed incense tongs, he nodded inwardly at the brushwood boat parting mist-shrouded waters—its destination as unknowable as smoke on the horizon—yet convinced himself all would align. To the side stood a cloisonné-inlaid rosewood stand bearing a silver hawk ornament—likely counted among conversation pieces—while a resplendent gold screen displayed Kōrin’s lavishly raised birds and flowers. The room’s Korean-edged blue tatami formed a setting so exquisite even jewels would not shame it; ahead lay a tea garden radiating consummate wabi austerity, their juxtaposition proclaiming this space’s worth with dazzling clarity. Before his guests could appraise it, the host—soot smudged sideways across his cheek—surveyed every corner alone in silent admiration.

“Yutaka, have the Go stones cleaned.” “Rikisuke, prepare the hand-water basin. The thread-patterned bowls are in the storehouse.” “Are these Nankin blue-patterned clam dishes acceptable? Or these? Mitsuyo! Mitsuyo—where are you?” “Mitsuyo! Mitsuyo!” Summoned by the repeated calls, Mitsuyo reluctantly stepped forward, whereupon Zenpei urgently rose and declared, “Now then—today we have important guests starting with Mr. Okumura—you must serve drinks too.” “Change your clothes this instant and make ready,” he commanded.

From the very beginning Mitsuyo had shown no agreeable countenance and had only lent her ears in pretense of listening, but today she declared, "I must beg your pardon, for I have a stomachache." With the forcefulness she habitually displayed in such acts of willfulness, she rose from her seat just like that—brusquely. That day she never once showed her face beyond her chamber.

Before long arrived a Western-suited guest with a thick black beard, who entered the parlor and soon shifted to hushed secret discussions. When they finally concluded and settled into two groups, the dishes carried out—Zenjirō’s meticulous culinary work—were met with toasts. Though the drinking had barely reached its midpoint, raucous laughter already erupted. Hearing this from afar, Mitsuyo fought back tears of frustration. In the flurry of the parlor, not a single soul came to visit her—yet another grievance lodged in a woman’s heart.

Evening deepened into night; after the guests had finally dispersed beneath the glow of silver candles, only Tatsuya and Zenpei remained. In a separate room with fresh dishes prepared, the two immersed themselves in intricate discussions. Zenpei set down his cup for a breath and said, “With this, you must have no objections now.” “Though the mediation fee is rather small, let us set it at 10,000 yen for now. Upon success, we shall present you with an additional 1,000 yen each year as a token of gratitude.” “What? Are you suggesting your colleagues and the others who worked with you today should also receive installment payments?” “Well, now—that payment arrangement might indeed hold water, but we’ll settle those details with our associates through further consultation. Let us fix your commission at that sum for now. Above all else, intercepting Kunitomo Trading Company’s application mid-process to swiftly submit mine to the authorities takes precedence—in any case, if you’d kindly exert your efforts posthaste to conclude this matter, there should be no particular hindrance to finalizing your compensation once affairs are settled.”

Tatsuya shook his head with a smile. “Ah, my point lies precisely here. While your view that expediting document submission would let other matters follow unimpeded is entirely reasonable, regarding the application itself—as I’ve previously explained—this situation exceeds my sole authority. Though I initially handled Kunitomo Trading Company’s application, the Bureau Chief now ostensibly manages all company affairs. Should their application be finalized tomorrow or within days and submitted to the ministry, we’ll lose any chance to intercept it mid-process. Thus we must first secure the Bureau Chief’s compliance—persuade him to embark on a distant journey—before that occurs.” “By keeping him away from Tokyo and preventing the company from remotely submitting their application during his absence, I’ll employ my methods—leveraging that thick-whiskered Superintendent Director who visited earlier—to place him at this affair’s forefront while I discreetly manipulate events from behind. But should disaster strike, our three lives would become your sacrificial offering. Even if this follows success, considering it comes after that teahouse incident you know of—should such conduct be exposed publicly again—the consequences would prove most unfavorable.”

“Now, my earnest request—as I mentioned earlier—is that above all else, we secure your consent here today. Beyond that, there is another matter entirely distinct in nature from this discussion, which I must implore you to consider. However, let us set that aside for now. For today, Mr. Miyoshi—couldn’t you at least agree to promise the terms we discussed earlier? Upon success, 300,000 yen in net profits could be realized as early as tomorrow.”

Responding with nothing but “Indeed, indeed,” Zenpei raised his cup once more. “That does make sense.” “To begin with, it was through a most fortuitous connection that I had the unexpected pleasure of meeting you, thereby enabling this consultation to take place.” “Both the inception and resolution of this matter lie entirely in your devoted efforts alone—so in deference to those efforts—” He trailed off momentarily before concluding: “Very well.” “I will give you that much.”

Leaning forward with heightened amiability, Tatsuya said, “Now that you have finally consented, this Okumura can rest assured.”

“However,” he said, flicking ash from his cigar, “no matter what results may follow, you will surely have no objections hereafter.” “We too are resolved that, should the time come, we will line our sleeves [in resignation], leave our government posts, and work together in the private sector permanently.”

“Of course, if things fall apart and we gain not a shred of profit—what then?” “Alright—we’ll bear half the mediation fee,” he said with a smile in his eyes, “but if, as previously agreed, the matter comes to fruition—?” “In that case, whatever lies within my power to fulfill your wishes, I shall oblige—be it a house or villa—and will separately provide appropriate compensation without fail.” “No—I shall gratefully accept your most generous consideration.” With another smile, Tatsuya said, “Well—if it’s within your power to fulfill my wish, Mr. Miyoshi, I’ll hold you to that,” he added jokingly, yet insistently.

“Well then—what sort of wish might that be?” Taking advantage of his drunkenness, Zenpei leaned forward. “Well then—if I were to state it first,” Tatsuya said excitedly, “it would be something like wanting to receive what you’ve prepared.” “Hmm.” “What a suggestive mystery this is, isn’t it?” Zenpei burst into laughter.

“No, let’s save that mystery for another day—I’ll have you solve it then.” “First, let us offer a fresh toast for this upcoming celebration.” Tatsuya offered his cup. With no opponent left, Zenpei was already asleep by then.

The matter proceeded smoothly as intended. First: a ceremonial retainer of 25,000 yen in gold. That night, Tatsuya took lodgings in Shinbashi as was his custom.

VII

The news of Takuo’s belated return reached the Miyoshi household through indirect channels. However, that he did not readily present himself here left Zenpei—with his worldly disposition—greatly displeased. From the very start he had despised me—thus the relationship between uncle and nephew grew increasingly strained. Mitsuyo’s mother, who had always disliked scholars, did not remain silent on such an occasion. After all, given Takuo’s consistently heartless nature, this degree of ill treatment came as no surprise. He had not even come to offer condolences after the recent fire; when it came to the recent birth celebration, he only sent his regards long after it had been forgotten—the list of Takuo’s failings, his obliviousness to social customs, stretched endlessly onward.

Unable to bear it any longer, Mitsuyo secretly paid an unannounced visit to Takuo’s residence. Takuo was not at home. Mitsuyo waited and waited as long as time allowed. Takuo never returned in the end. Forcing her tearful self to rise, she finally arrived home dejectedly—only to learn that Takuo had come during her absence.

Oh, what a cruel twist of fate that we should lack even this thread binding us. And Mitsuyo wept in her heart.

In the inner room, Zenpei was seething with anger like a raging fire. Rather than look at his daughter, he strengthened his voice: “Mitsuyo—I’ve dissolved your engagement with Takuo.” “I can’t hand you over to such a pigheaded, incomprehensible fool.” “Consider all previous promises null and void from this moment onward.”

＊　　　　＊　　　　＊ The campaign concerning the disposal of Kijima Mine developed into increasingly fierce competition between the parties involved. The faction belonging to Kunitomo Trading Company maintained their position through mutual opposition. To this were added competitors whose numbers had now grown to several parties, while the so-called estimated prices gradually rose until reaching 350,000 yen. As the competition showed no signs of abating easily, even those in authority found the situation unmanageable—thus it came to pass that a cabinet order was issued. As this cabinet order established regulations concerning the leasing or disposal of mines, even those disposal applications had now been compelled to be resubmitted in accordance with it.

That cabinet order had been on the eve of its appearance in the official gazette.

Tatsuya suddenly summoned Zenpei to the upper room of a discreet teahouse, made him aware of the impending crisis, and thus informed him that the ultimate great victory now loomed before their eyes. “Now then, as the long-standing incident finally reaches its climax—with the Kunidomo faction’s vigorous campaigning refusing to yield—both parties have entered into fierce competition. You too have exerted considerable effort thus far, but it seems the minister in charge will likely issue a cabinet order around tomorrow to settle the matter decisively in one stroke. However, this remains an utmost secret—apart from the minister himself, no one within the ministry knows of it.”

With a self-satisfied smile that all but declared “Behold me,” Tatsuya triumphantly yet quietly exhaled his cigar smoke. “Since you’ve been informed of this crucial plan,” said Miyoshi Zenpei, who had been listening intently before raising his face, “what kind of regulations will determine the winning bid?” “Now then, the regulations themselves aren’t particularly complicated. The cabinet order’s necessity lies in promptly approving disposal applications that meet all stipulated conditions while collectively rejecting non-compliant ones. Moreover, should multiple qualified applications exist, they’ll adopt the first received—such appears to be the arrangement. Therefore, if we finalize preparations tonight and submit documents immediately upon the order’s publication in tomorrow’s gazette, the flag will undoubtedly rise in our hands.”

“Given this situation, I would like to promptly prepare the disposal application tonight—but our immediate difficulty lies in determining how to write that application.” “Well,” Tatsuya replied smoothly, “anticipating such circumstances, I had made prior arrangements and finally obtained the draft of that cabinet order today.” “Oh!” Zenpei involuntarily leaned forward. “This—this represents complete success! If I may say so without presumption, your swift actions never cease to impress this Zenpei.”

What lay within Tatsuya’s flashing eyes now leapt up and seized this opportunity. Seizing the moment, he leaned forward and produced the copy of the draft; holding it while speaking glibly, he said: “Mr. Miyoshi—this is it. But this comes with a reward.” Zenpei, without a moment’s hesitation—his mind half consumed by the draft—responded: “Yes, yes—whatever it may be.”

“It’s nothing other than that.” With a knowing grin, Tatsuya barged in. “The other day—that matter—when I made those cryptic remarks about Miss Mitsuyo.” “You must have largely surmised what I earnestly desire.” “Do I have your consent?” “I have received her.”

＊　　　　＊　　　　＊

I do not know what came after. It was said Tatsuya had recently taken a wife. Who could that wife have been? In the depths of a certain study existed one who would devote his remaining half-life to immersing himself in grand philosophical inquiries—and another who had cast all worldly cares into the heart of a dust heap. Who could those persons have been? Winds swept through silvergrass; paulownias stood stripped to bare branches.

Whose will tomorrow be?