Pathway to Japanese Literature

Ōba Yūkichi: 31

Same Sorako: 23

Maid Kana: 20

Kodama Togai: 56

Same Hatsuo: 10

Newspaper Deliveryman: 21

Near noon on a Sunday at the end of May.

The remote edge of Tokyo’s suburbs

Ōba Yūkichi’s residence—a new traditional Japanese-style house

At the front of the stage are the edge of the tatami room and a balcony protruding from the second floor.
A narrow road beyond the garden.

To the right, in a corner of the garden stood a storage shed; one could circle past its front to reach the kitchen entrance.

Maid Kana was cleaning the tatami room.
A voice resembling a vendor’s called out, “Good day.”

Kana turned toward the kitchen.

“Oh, liquor store vendor—well, there’s nothing needed today.”

“Is everyone out...?”

“Uh-huh.”
“The master has been out since yesterday, and the mistress also left late last night.”

“Where did the mistress go?”

“To her parents’ home,” said Kana. “You know, in Kanda… Lately she hasn’t been speaking properly with the master at all. Last night too, when the master didn’t come home again, she finally lost her temper—‘I’m taking Riku and going back to my parents’ house. If he comes back, make sure to tell him that.’ And this was at eleven o’clock, mind you!”

“Then as she was leaving, she said this again: ‘If by any chance he doesn’t return tonight, I’ve made up my mind. I’ll come back around noon tomorrow to check on things, but you don’t need to say anything to the master. Just if he comes back in the morning and asks about me, tell him I left this morning. We need to make sure there’s no weak point on our side if it comes to that… Understand? If you mess this up, I won’t forgive you.’ That’s what she said!”

“I was completely flustered,” Kana continued. “I kept thinking how much better it’d be if the mistress came back before the master returns. But if I tell lies now and then they make up later… This makes the master look bad, doesn’t it?”

At this moment，the entrance door opened.
Kana suddenly stopped talking，signaled toward the kitchen，and headed to the entrance.

The master，Ōba Yūgo，entered carrying a briefcase.
Kana followed after him.

Ōba： “Where’s my wife?”

Kana： “Well… She just went out for a bit.”

Ōba： “Where did she go?”

Kana： “Well… probably to Tokyo，I suppose.”

Ōba： “Did she take Riku with her?”

Kana： “Yes.”

Ōba： “Around what time did she leave?”

Kana： “Well… She left around this morning，but…”

“I know about this morning.”
“I’m asking what time it was!”
“Was it early this morning or just now? Just tell me that.”

“Might I inquire as to the current time?”

“It’s ten o’clock now.”

“In that case, it would have been around nine o’clock.”

“Hmm…” He looked around the room. “Since I didn’t come home last night, she must’ve worked herself into hysterics again.”

Kana: “No, not particularly…”
“What would you like to do about lunch?”

“What do we have?”
“There’s only last night’s simmered dish remaining.”
“I don’t want to eat that.”

(After changing into a kimono) “Bring my geta over here.”

Kana brings the geta from the direction of the garden.
Ōba descends to the garden and fiddles with flower pots and such.
At that moment, Kodama Togai passes by the other side of the fence with his son Hatsuo.

Kodama: “I have a small matter to inquire about…”
“Is there a house called Ōba around here?”
“The master—” (he started saying, but meeting Ōba’s turned gaze) “Oh, it’s you.”

Ōba: “Ah, it’s me.”
“Where are you headed today?”

“Not going anywhere,” said Kodama.
“I’ve come to your place.
What business would anyone have coming to such a remote place?
They said it’s fifty minutes from Tokyo, but damn if I didn’t leave home at eight-thirty this morning.
Hatsuo,” he turned to his son,
“do you remember what Uncle looks like?”

“I do remember,” replied Hatsuo.
“When he smiles,
he looks like a squirrel.”

“You little rascal!” Kodama snapped.
“You don’t come here
and say such things!”

“This is quite a stylish residence... However, what a shame—when it comes to earthquakes, it’s downright precarious.”
“Truth be told, even when I asked around in front of the station, nobody knew a thing. I’d nearly given up searching when—”
“I’m not intruding, am I?”

Ōba: “Not at all—you’ve come at the perfect moment.”
“I only just returned home and changed into my kimono.”
“Please come around from that side.”
“We haven’t even built a proper gate yet.”
“Now Hatsuo—when Uncle does this… (extends both hands, making the child retreat) I won’t bite.”
“From here, over the fence—like so… (lifts the child and places him inside)”
Meanwhile, Kodama entered through the front.

“Your wife?”

“Unfortunately my wife happens to be out... Well now, do come up please.”
“Hey—Kana! Isn’t Kana here?”
(The maid appeared.) “A zabuton cushion...”

Kodama: (restraining Ōba as he starts to ascend) "No need—here's fine. When one hasn't visited a place like this in ages, going inside feels wasteful."

“Well then, please have a seat there,” said Ōba. “What you can see over there is Chichibu.”

“I see,” replied Kodama. Turning to his son, he added, “Hey, Hatsuo, those are the Chichibu mountains.”

The boy squinted at the horizon. “Can’t you see Mount Fuji?”

“Now you’re being greedy,” Kodama chided. “You should make do with what’s there—haven’t I always told you that?” His tone shifted as he addressed Ōba again. “Your wife struggles with errands.”

“Well,” Ōba cleared his throat, “they say she went to Tokyo... As for me, I haven’t returned since last night...”

Kodama surveyed the lonely property. “Must be bleak keeping watch here alone.” He nudged his son toward the field. “Hatsuo—go play in that open area. Catch dragonflies or something.”

“There aren’t any dragonflies around this time.”

“Then catch frogs or something,” said Kodama.
“I need to talk with Uncle for a bit...”
(Hatsuo left.) “Actually—whether you know or not—a couple of days ago came a letter from your wife.”
“Oh! You didn’t know?”
“What—no need for fuss.”
“The letter’s essence—to speak plainly—”

“It must be complaints about me.”

“Just as you’ve guessed,” said Kodama.
“I’ll speak frankly.”
“Naturally for a wife—such matters must first reach the mediator’s ears.”
“If the parties themselves can’t settle things...”

“There’s nothing to resolve or anything—on my side, it’s not even an issue…”

Kodama: “I suppose that’s how it is.”
“Men and women differ in that regard.”
“Women make issues of things men don’t consider problematic.”
“Now then—you’re of considerable age yourself, and four years having passed since your marriage—my meddling might indeed be a nuisance, but I’d ask you to humor an old man and let this pass.”
“Truth be told, I’d considered sending my wife today, but as she’s always tended to side more with your wife than with you, making true neutrality impossible, I deliberately came myself.”
“First off—I can’t understand without hearing both sides—what exactly is going on here?”
“Things haven’t been going smoothly lately, but…”

“It’s not some recent development.”
“But it didn’t start from the beginning either, did it? Wasn’t it you who came asking me to settle this matter?”

“When you actually sort it out, the whole story turns out quite different,” said Ōba. “Even the age turns out to be off by one when you look into it properly. In the family register, it’s off by one. That family register can’t be relied upon either. People don’t bother ensuring accurate entries before births occur.”

Kodama countered, “What’s the harm if it’s off by a single digit? Fundamentally, there’s too great an age difference with you. And what else? These discrepancies you mention—what are they?”

“She’s supposed to be good at knitting,” Ōba continued. “When I asked her around New Year’s to make me a vest, April and May just passed by. When I pressed her… she’s in the middle of making it now. ‘I’m too busy to focus solely on that’—she says things like this. What finally got completed was just the other day.” He gestured sharply. “Take a look. Spring has already passed, and summer is about to come. If it were just that delay, well, it wouldn’t be a problem.” His voice tightened. “The completed vest—if we’re talking about my torso—could fit two of me. Even so, I still endure it. If I consider that she painstakingly made it…” He let the sentence hang before delivering the blow: “What do you think of this? While claiming she made that vest herself, she actually had someone else make it. And not just anyone—some neighborhood schoolgirl who probably doesn’t even know how large a man’s torso should be.”

“Wait—depending on how you hear this, one might sympathize with your wife’s position,” said Kodama. “But are you condemning her general negligence, or specifically that she had someone else do it?”

“Both factors aside,” Ōba countered, “what I primarily condemn is the initial lie itself. To boast of being able to do what she couldn’t, then pretend she made it herself while outsourcing the work—both amount to deceiving me.”

Kodama: “Well, you could lump both together as one matter—but does that mean you got angry at your wife over it?”

Ōba: “No—that’s not why I got angry.”
“When that fact came out, she immediately lashed out at me.”
“I’d have rather never known such a thing.”
“So when it came to light, I thought she was cornered.”
“I even felt sorry for her.”
“I tried steering the conversation elsewhere—started saying something—but then she suddenly cut in with ‘I already understand.’”
“You must know how a woman’s voice sounds in those situations—it sent a chill through me.”
“What do you think you understand?” — “I do understand.”

“So what exactly do you think you understand?”

“I can’t endure this any longer.”

Kodama: “Your wife said that, right?”

Ōba: “That’s correct.”

Kodama: “Alright.”
“So the reason your wife says she ‘can’t endure it’ must be like this.”
“To put it as written in the letter—in other words, you seem straightforward but turn out not to be at all, she claims.”
“You say indirectly what should be said directly, twist harmless matters when taken plainly, and pretend not to know what you clearly do know—that’s her complaint.”
“Does any of this sound familiar?”

Ōba: (immediately) Not at all.

Kodama: “Well, think a little more before you respond, please. Aren’t there things you don’t notice yourself that, when pointed out, strike you as making sense?”

“From a woman’s perspective, men’s psychology tends to be rather complicated,” said Ōba. “I’m not doing any of this intentionally.”

Kodama countered, “You might say that, but you’re dealing with a woman here. When it comes to women, they’re practically children. You ought to temper your words—explain things as if chewing them soft before spitting them out…”

“That approach would backfire spectacularly,” Ōba retorted. “Even without such theatrics, she keeps lodging formal complaints accusing me of looking down on her.”

Kodama: “No—in fact, that’s also written there. When your wife misspoke in front of someone—didn’t you laugh loudly or something like that? Has such a thing happened?”

Ōba: “Of course there was. It’s something that happens all the time. No matter how many times people correct her, she mixes up ‘hint’ and ‘focus.’”

“What you’re saying—your hints are off the mark.”

“You don’t need to explain every detail. Just give me the focal point…”
“Just give me the focal point…”
“This is how it always goes.”
“The English mix-ups are one thing, but ‘light bulb bulb’?”

Kodama (amusedly): “Things like that never get fixed. My old lady still says ‘hechima cologne’ instead of ‘hechima stove,’ you know.”
“Ah, well, that’s fine.”
“Then there’s the matter of you often coming home late at night and sometimes even staying out. I suppose that’s due to socializing, so I won’t comment—but have there been any recent quarrels over it?”

“Recently?”
“Well, I don’t recall clearly, but such a thing might have happened.”
“Today as well, I came back prepared for that, but unfortunately she wasn’t there—so much so that I was disappointed.”

“I can’t have you taking such a challenging attitude either.”

“The provocation came from her side.”
“When I was leaving this morning, she said, ‘You’ll be late again tonight, I suppose.’ That’s what happened.”
“I couldn’t exactly say, ‘No, I’ll come back early.’”

Kodama: “Why couldn’t you say it?”
“That’s precisely what’s wrong.”
“And then you deliberately come home late—that sort of tactic won’t do.”

Ōba: “However, even you must have had such experiences.”

Kodama: “That is no answer at all.”
“Today, I’m not taking either side.”

At this moment, Sorako, his wife, returned from the front entrance.
At the kitchen entrance, she chatted with the maid and went upstairs while nodding repeatedly about something.

Meanwhile, on the veranda, sensing her presence, the two men stopped talking.
Then, before Sorako appeared, Kodama hurriedly whispered into Ōba’s ear.
Ōba listened while laughing.

Kodama: (Amused) "Haven’t finished speaking yet, but I’ve got the gist."
"Leave it to me."
"So I’ll say I’m leaving soon—don’t try to stop me."
"But I’ll pretend to go home and double back quietly."
"Then I’ll watch your situation from somewhere."
"You just act completely normal."
"I want to see how your wife handles this—observe her response for reference."
(In a loud voice) "Well, even calling it ‘reference’… Politics fundamentally requires thick skin, eh? Whether diplomacy or industry…"

Sorako appeared dressed to go out.

"Good day," Sorako said.

Kodama: “Oh, it’s been quite some time… And is everyone at your home in good health?”

Sorako: “Oh, thank you for asking…”

Kodama Togai: “I imagine you’ve already surmised my purpose here—today I wished to hear details directly from both of you regarding that matter. Having listened to what Ōba-kun has shared, I generally grasp the situation’s logic. Since he’s accepted your demands and vowed to exercise greater caution henceforth—” (cutting off Ōba’s interjection) “—let’s wash everything away here and now. I want you both to cultivate a bright household life with fresh resolve.”

“Even if I were to hear both sides now, it’d be like the League of Nations deliberating the Manchurian Incident—neither party would be satisfied.”

“Given that Ōba-kun has gone to the trouble of offering this unconditional compromise—” (Ōba attempts to speak) “—yes, precisely. I understand your position.”

“Best not say anything further here.”

“Therefore, I shall take my leave.”

“And should problems arise hereafter, you see, I’ll render fair judgments regarding their causes.”

“Well then—thank you for your hospitality.”

“Why don’t the two of you go out for a bit when you get some time off?”
“How is Rikutaro?”

She had left him with her parents and returned.

Kodama: "Hmm.
Grandfather and Grandmother say they occasionally look after him properly, you know.
I'd like to see my grandchild's face sooner too, but what can you do? That son of mine still needs to find a wife first, and that'll take quite some time yet.
Hey now, Hatsubō—we're leaving.
Come here and say goodbye to Uncle and Auntie."

Hatsuo appeared holding a dirty stick.

Kodama (taking a few sweets from the dish and giving them to the child): "Here, take these.
Don't forget to say 'Thank you.'"

“Is this enough?”
“Shall I give you more?”
(Sorako wrapped them in paper and handed them to the child.)

Hatsuo: “Which one should I eat first?”

Kodama: “Either one’s fine.”

Ōba: (to Sorako) “It’s noon already.”
“Why don’t you fix something?”

Sorako: “Really…”
“Well do take your time... Though there’s not much worth seeing round here...”

Kodama: “No no—we mean to stroll about some more first. There’s that new park up ahead—what do they call it now?—we’ll mosey over there and take our ease.”

Ōba: “I see.”
“Then I’ll be happy to show you around.”

“Oh no no, that won’t be necessary,” said Kodama. “A parent-child boat ride with just us two—that’s today’s purpose.” Then with a bow: “Well now… goodbye…”

“But Sorako… That’s going too far…”
“Well then, pardon me… Please give my regards to your wife…”

Kodama: (with a bow) “Ah, yes.”

Kodama and Hatsuo left through the garden toward the front.
Ōba saw them off.
Sorako headed toward the entrance.

After a while, Ōba reappeared in the garden.
In the meantime, Sorako went up to the second floor, stepped out onto the balcony, and sat down in a rattan chair.
Of course, before long, Kodama took Hatsuo’s hand and stealthily approached the shadow of the storage shed on the right.
Ōba noticed it immediately.

A long time passed.

Kodama repeatedly turned toward Ōba, gesturing insistently to urge him on.

Ōba (fiddling with the plant’s buds, as if talking to himself): “This plant looks like it’s going to die.”

Sorako...

Ōba: "If this dies... should I pull it out?"

Sorako...

Ōba: (to no one in particular) "Pull it out, and there'll be a hole left behind."

Sorako...

Ōba: What should I do about that hole?

Sorako...

Ōba: Should I bury it, or leave it unburied?

Sorako...
Are you saying that to me?

“Ah, that’s right.”
“Say it again from the beginning, please.”

Ōba: "From the beginning? Then I'll say something else."

Kodama was persistently trying to calm Hatsuo.

Ōba: "Is it warm there?"

Sorako: "Yes, it's quite warm."

Ōba: "It gets good sun there."

Sorako: "It does get sun."

Ōba: "Doesn't the warmth make you sleepy?"

Sorako: "I'm sleepy every single day."

Ōba: "Do you sleep well at night?"

"I never sleep well at all."

Ōba: "Don't say things that sound bad to others. Do you have work or something?"

Sorako…

Ōba: You probably slept well last night.

Sorako………….

Kodama, carrying Hatsuo on his back, gave Ōba a meaningful look that said, “Cut that kind of talk.”

Ōba: “You probably have something worrying you lately.
I heard about that earlier from Old Man Kodama... (glanced toward Kodama) Since Mr. Kodama also says such things, I’ve decided to change my approach from now on.”

“Old Man Kodama—what did he say?”
“Exactly what you wrote in your letter.”
“So about that—didn’t you give any opinion?”

Ōba: “Opinion? I said it.”
Sorako: “That person probably doesn’t sympathize with me at all.”
Ōba: “He does sympathize with both of us.”

(Kodama nods emphatically)

Sorako: “You must have said something about me too...”

Ōba: “There were things I said and things I didn’t.”

Sorako: What exactly did you say?

Ōba...

Sorako: What exactly was it?
“You’re keeping secrets from me.”

Ōba: “It’s not exactly a secret.”
“If I bring that up now, it’ll completely ruin everything.”

Sorako: “You called me a liar, didn’t you?”

Ōba: “I never went that far.”
“Besides—it’s not like you’re always telling lies nonstop anyway.”

“Then, what exactly?”

“Haven’t we had enough of this already? Such matters.”
“The fact that you sent that letter—I don’t give a damn about it, you know.”

“That’s exactly it. In the first place, you don’t care about me at all.”

“Old Man Kodama’s quite the smooth talker—he managed to wrap me around his finger.”

“I sent a letter addressed to Mrs. Kodama. That old man doesn’t understand a thing.”

Ōba (glancing briefly at Kodama): “But thanks to that old man, I’ve come around to reconciling with you.”

“I never asked you to make us reconcile or anything.”

Ōba: “I see.”

Sorako: “I wanted you to understand my position beforehand so that when push came to shove, I wouldn’t let you voice any objections.”

Ōba: “Is that ‘when push comes to shove’ situation really so pressing? Have you already made up your mind?”

Sorako: “That depends on how you handle things.”

Ōba: “Old Man Kodama also said it—you’re being a bit too selfish.”

Sorako: “Did he really say that?”

Ōba (looking at Kodama again): “It’s not just him—anyone would think that way. But I’m not making that the issue now. You say it all comes down to my approach, but your own approach has plenty of room for reconsideration.”

Sorako: “My approach is simply innate, you know.”

Ōba: “Innate?”
“If that’s how it is, there’s nothing to be done.”

At this moment, Kana went upstairs to the second floor.

Kana (to Sorako): “Madam, um… The Kyō Newspaper has come again to collect the payment…”

Sorako: “Then why don’t you just tell him that? Since we don’t subscribe to it at home, there’s no reason to pay…”

Kana: “He says just last month’s portion will do.”

Sorako: “Delivering papers nobody asked for, then coming back to demand payment—that’s just high-pressure sales tactics. You should tell him to take that story to the police.”

(Kana whispered something into Sorako’s ear) “It doesn’t matter.”
“Just tell him no.”

Kana: “I’m at my wit’s end.”
(Kana descended while saying this.)

From the kitchen came the sound of voices arguing.

Ōba peered toward the back door.

Ōba: “What’s this about, you…?”
“Why do you keep throwing in newspapers we already refused?”
“Even that alone is a nuisance on my end.”
“If you go throwing scraps of paper into people’s houses willy-nilly, you’re bound to get yelled at, aren’t you?”

Newspaper Deliveryman (showing his face): “But in any case, since you’ve at least looked at them, I want you to do something about it here.”
“This month’s already been settled.”
“Just last month’s portion—or rather, even that we’re refusing…”

“Silence.”
“The newspapers you left—whether I read them or not—I’ve kept them exactly as they were. Take every last one back.”
(Goes into the back and comes out with a bundle of newspapers.)

“I’ll be more careful from now on…”

“Be careful.”
“And be off with you—quickly.”
“First of all, newspaper vendors—if it’s not morning or evening, they shouldn’t be showing their faces.”

“I actually asked the maid early this morning, but since all of you had been away from home since last night, she said she didn’t know anything about such matters...”

Ōba (glancing briefly at Sorako): “I see.”
“My wife has been at home from last night until this morning.”
“She left at nine this morning, went back to her parents’ home in Tokyo, and returned after ten.”
“She must have been in a great hurry.”
“Under normal circumstances, it would take two hours by train alone, but she finished her business and came back in one hour.”
“There you have it.”
“And on top of that, she had a child with her.”
“Now, stop dawdling around and be off with you—quickly.”
“And from now on, stop passing in front of this house altogether.”

The newspaper deliveryman had no choice but to leave.

How shameless Sorako was.

Ōba let out a deep sigh.

Kodama was standing up, squatting down, carrying Hatsuo on his back, and holding him in his arms for some time now. Hatsuo was throwing a tantrum nonstop, but Kodama was making desperate efforts to keep him from speaking.

Sorako: “I went back home and told them everything.”

Ōba: “They must be tired of hearing it by now. Did they bestow any brilliant schemes upon you?”

Sorako: Today, my mother should have gone to Mrs. Kodama’s place to talk.

Ōba: I wonder if she’s all right, doing something like that… How’s her rheumatism been lately?

“I’m sure it’s fine—she said she’d go…”

“If Father goes, it’ll just create friction. Probably not the best approach.”
“These things really need a woman’s touch…”

“Father’s hopeless—worse than Old Man Kodama.”
“He just agrees with whatever anyone says…”
“But I do have some knack for negotiations, you know.”
“That’s why I keep saying—Old Man Kodama’s too softhearted to rely on in a real crisis.”

Ōba: “But on the other hand, Father’s been praising Old Man Kodama.”
“There’s no one else who pays that much attention to others’ affairs…”

Sorako: “That’s what he says, but in reality, he’s actually quite annoying.”
“To meddle even in how people smoke their cigarettes…”

Ōba (glancing briefly at Kodama): “So when you told them about me, your mother was also greatly indignant.”

Sorako: “Yes.”

Ōba: “Are you saying there’s no need to endure such things?”

Sorako: “………”

Ōba: “Just try leaving him there for two hours. Old folks get exhausted, kids get bored—by now that guy’s being treated like a bit of a nuisance and sulking.”

Sorako: “I was crying from the moment I left.”

Ōba: “Sniffling or wailing?”

“Wailing.”
“Well then... I suppose that’s alright.”
“If I were sniffling... I couldn’t have brought myself to leave.”

Ōba whistled while walking around here and there.
Sorako, listening intently to it, gradually lifted her hips and finally rose from her chair.
She stared intently at her husband.
Their gazes met.
They exchanged smiles.
Meanwhile, Kodama had been listening intently to this "unfathomable" couple’s conversation while carrying Hatsuo on his back since earlier, but the boy on his back appeared to have fallen sound asleep.
Before long, Sorako came down from the second floor and stood on the veranda.
The geta were found immediately.

Ōba, sensing matters were growing complicated, made hand gestures to signal Kodama with that particular sign, but unfortunately Kodama feigned ignorance.

Sorako: “What... are those gestures...?”

Ōba: "Huh?"
"This...?" he said while mechanically repeating his earlier hand gestures. "You do it like this... and then like this."
(He continued demonstrating similar meaningless gestures for a while.)

Sorako: "What... is that...?"

Ōba: "So when you do it like this"—he slightly altered the first gesture—"a vacuum forms beneath the fingers. And when you do it like this"—he demonstrated the second gesture—"while no vacuum forms above them, compressed air gets created below through this principle."
"By using that, I mean... well no—gymnastics."

As they were saying this, Sorako noticed Kodama’s presence, and Kodama, having no choice, began walking away with an awkward, forced smile.

Kodama: “My, my... Well, in this state, I can’t even walk down the road.”
“We’ll have to turn back.”
“Hey, Hatsu-bō, wake up already!”
“We’ve come back to the old man’s house again.”

Hatsuo (without raising his face): “I know…”

Kodama: “I see.”
“Then get down.”

Hatsuo (finally raising his face): “Did you finish fighting already?”

Kodama (flustered): “Hey! What’re you blurtin’ out now, you brat…?”

“You must’ve been dreaming just now, hm? Auntie will now open her eyes properly.”
(Goes up to the tatami room.)

“See? She’s a good auntie, isn’t she.”

Hatsuo: “But earlier…”

Ōba (trying to prevent Hatsuo from speaking): “Come on, let’s wrestle.”
(They grapple.)

Hatsuo (half-facing Sorako): “About Dad…”

Ōba (ignoring him): “Come on—here we go. Ready?”
(forcing him to face his way) “No way I’m losing!”
“Check this out… I’m strong! Not bad… There we go—got you!”
“Damn it…”

Against an uninterested child, Ōba put his all into the match.

-- CURTAIN --