Pathway to Japanese Literature

Sokono (or Kamaboko)

Tobita (or Tonbi)

Koyo: Daughter of their previous boarding house

Mustached Peddler

Disabled Soldier (Self-Proclaimed) Peddler

Old Man Who Keeps a Bush Warbler

Ube Family Maid

I

The small suburban house jointly rented by Sokono and Tobita.
Outside the tatami room and dining area was the entrance.

The all-male lifestyle rendered the entire house dreary, yet precisely because of that, a carefree atmosphere lingered somewhere.

Sokono (twenty-eight) had laid out two thin zabuton cushions and was lying sprawled on them, reading an old magazine or something.
This concerned someone who had left a certain university midway, kept it secret from his hometown while continuing to receive remittances, and planned to pretend failing for another year when his graduation year arrived mercilessly—only to have his father preempt him by declaring tuition payments would cease after this year. Instead, he would send twenty yen monthly toward living expenses until employment was found, after which Sokono must manage things himself.
Even so, he reasoned that idling around while receiving twenty yen monthly was preferable to forcing himself to find employment and having his body shackled from morning till night. For these past two years, using the widespread employment crisis as his excuse, he had spent each day lying about like this.

His partner Tobita (twenty-seven), being both a school classmate and former boarding house roommate of Sokono's, had naturally become his close confidant who shared everything. When Tobita was fortunate enough to be hired by a company after graduation, they began what was touted as a most economical and hygienic suburban lifestyle of cooking for themselves. Yet Tobita too, within mere months, received notice from the company that his future attendance would no longer be required. Having exerted every effort to no avail, he had failed to secure a replacement position up to the present day.
However, unlike Sokono, Tobita was by nature a natural-born hustler, and though his circumstances allowed him to wheedle monthly allowances of five or three yen each from his two older brothers and two older sisters by appealing to their sympathies, he was never satisfied with that alone, instead devoting himself single-mindedly to seeking out promising opportunities while rushing about every day.

Now then, today as well, just like yesterday, Sokono practiced his "Good fortune comes to those who wait" principle, while Tobita implemented his "A walking dog may find a stick" principle.

The entrance door opened, and a gentlemanly man carrying a large briefcase came in.

Man: "Excuse me."

Sokono (still lying down): “Who is it?”

The man: “Is madam present?”

Sokono: “She’s still not here.”

The man: “Then pardon my intrusion—might I trouble you briefly, sir…”

Sokono: “Do come in.”

The man: “No—here will suffice.”

Sokono: “What’s your business?”

The man: “To explain—I represent an enterprise such as this…”
(He produced a business card.)

Sokono: “Just say it aloud.”

The man complied. “Though my name would naturally mean nothing to you—the fact remains that I was formerly employed by the South Manchurian Railway Company until recent circumstances compelled my resignation…”

“If it’s about employment opportunities… I’m afraid I don’t have any leads at the moment.”

“No—that isn’t precisely what I meant to convey… The matter arose rather suddenly, you see—with no savings in the household, and five children all still in their tender years—I find myself growing rather apprehensive about what lies ahead…”

“At my place, we don’t give donations to anyone—why, we even turned down comfort fund requests from the Manchurian Army for our neighborhood...”

“No no—I haven’t come to beg for donations or alms of any sort. The truth is, given these circumstances and taking heart that I’m not yet elderly, I’ve mustered great courage to resolutely take to the streets. In connection with this endeavor, I resolved to choose an occupation others haven’t noticed—or even if similar to existing trades, one with some distinctive feature—and after considerable deliberation...”

Sokono: "Did you come up with a brilliant plan?"

"What I mean to say is that even among peddling businesses commonly practiced in society—be it stationery or patent medicines—there is nothing novel about them," replied the man. "Others may have visited you an hour before my arrival. Under these circumstances, it stands to reason one would labor without gain."

“Despite how it looks here, we’ve got everything we need—nothing we want right now.”

“Please wait just a moment,” he said. “Having given this considerable thought—I resolved to carry items other peddlers don’t stock. Things not easily found in your neighborhood—or perhaps goods identical in form yet different in quality—affordable yet superior products. By varying my approach and visiting each household accordingly... Well now! Depending on the residence, mightn’t something catch your eye? After all, you’d hardly regret buying these rarities—why, you could even share them with so-and-so...”

“Hey now, I get it—unfortunately, there’s a guy in my house already working on the exact same scheme you’ve thought up here. Since he’s got most things covered, no need to buy from elsewhere.”

“With all due respect,” the man said, “each person’s mind works differently…”

“But get this—what that guy says matches you word for word. Even your mental gears turn the same way.”

“Ha ha ha ha. You must be jesting,” said the man with an uneasy laugh. “From my very upbringing, I have always had qualities that set me apart from others. I would never dream of imitating people or letting myself be imitated in such...”

“But you see,” Sokono cut in, “this fellow truly has his own peculiar way of being different from everyone else.”

“That may indeed be so,” the peddler conceded through clenched teeth. “However, if you would permit me this liberty—kindly compare the items that gentleman possesses with those I have brought here today.” He drew himself up stiffly. “I assure you not a single article will match.”

“Well then, what exactly do you have?”

“Thank you very much,” said the man. “I beg your pardon, but if you would just take a look at this…”

“You don’t need to show me—just tell me the names of what you’re selling,” Sokono replied.

“Understood.” The man bowed slightly. “Ah, this here is the ‘Snake Pill’ that’s currently causing quite the stir…”

“Ah, we’ve got that.”

“However, this product is pure and unadulterated, procured directly from Ina Village in Shinshu…”

“By the way,” Sokono cut in, “what’s that good for?”

“Young and old, men and women—those who use this shall know no decline in vitality...”

“Ah, that’s no good.”
“If I drink that stuff and get even more energy pumped into me, I’ll be at my wit’s end.”
“I’m trying my damnedest to burn it off as we speak.”

“Well then, if you’ve no use for that one—this digestive medicine extracted from grain germ...”
“Far surpassing diastase and such...”

“Hey now—quit peddling nonsense, you.”
“Even as it is, what I’ve eaten won’t stay put in my gut—makes things damn awkward.”
“Enough with that rubbish...”
Just hearing about it made his stomach let out an audible growl.

“Well then, these small briquettes featuring complete combustion...”

“No fire of any kind allowed here.”

“Now, these insect-repellent sachets specially effective for woolen fabrics...”

“Take that one to the pawnshop instead.”

“Lastly, premium refined cotton wool at wholesale prices—forty percent more economical than purchasing at a pharmacy...”

“I appreciate the trouble, but there’s not a single woman here, you see.”

The man packed his belongings. “My apologies for disturbing you,” he said with excessive formality. “Do call again should you require my services…”

“Pardon my remaining recumbent,” Sokono replied without rising. He returned to his magazine as if swatting away a persistent fly.

Before long, again—this time from the kitchen entrance—came a young woman’s voice: “Pardon me, excuse me.”

Sokono (energetically sitting up): “Come on in!”
“Who is it?”

Woman’s voice: “It’s me.”

Sokono: “Who’s this ‘me’?”
“If it’s just ‘me,’ there’s too many to tell!”
“Well, whichever ‘me’ you are is fine—just come on in.”

A young, working-class-looking girl entered.
It was Koyo (nineteen), the daughter from their previous boarding house.

Koyo (with a slight bow): “Hello... Are you alone today?”

“What’s wrong with being alone?”
“You’ve gotten pretty.”

“What’s wrong with me getting prettier?”

“Well, I’m certainly not saying it’s bad.”
“How’s your place—still the same as always?”

“Yeah,” Koyo replied. “How’s your place?” She looked around the room. “Seems more settled than last time, hasn’t it?”

Sokono (also looking around the area): “Which part?”
“Are Itatsu and Kamiya still here?”

Koyo: “Yeah, Mr.Kamiya’s taking a wife this spring, I hear.”
“He’s looking for a place now.”

“Is Itatsu still behind on his boarding house fees?”

Koyo: “Hmm, who’s to say...”
“Never mind other people’s business—you need to sort yourself out.”
“I hate having to come here all the time saying these things.”
“Mom’s furious.”
“That’s a fib, but she really says it’s fine to do it little by little.”
“It comes from home, I suppose.”

Sokono: “It does come—twenty yen each time.”
“Are you telling me to do something about this situation?”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, I tell ya.”

Koyo: “Oh, you're one to talk! How could twenty yen possibly cover anything when you’re spending like this?”

Sokono: “Hey now, don’t go saying such rude things. Even a buzzcut with tips costs at least a yen, I tell ya.”

Koyo: “When did you last get that mop chopped anyway?”

Sokono: “I get it trimmed so often I can’t even remember. Do you ever go see Kataoka Chiezo?”

“Yeah, just the other day—I saw that... what was it...”

“So, did you get tickets for this fall’s league games from someone?”

“They’re pretty much available anywhere, you know.
Two would be tough, though…”

“I’ve been a salaried worker since this summer too, I tell ya.
I can’t tell anyone yet, but it’s a Mitsui-affiliated company.
Seventy yen, but that should be fine for a start.”

“Is that really true?”
“That’s nonsense, isn’t it?”

“Fine, if that’s what you think….”
“If only you’d disappear, I’d happily stay poor my whole life.”

I’d gotten thirsty.

“The well water here’s something to boast about... Though truth be told, that’s the landlord’s line...”

“Are you paying the rent properly?”

“If I paid properly, I couldn’t keep on living this way, I tell ya.”

Koyo had thought it would come to this.
(She rose to get water)

Sokono: “Get me a cup too, I tell ya.”
“The rice bowl’s there, I suppose.”
“No need to wash it after you drink.”
“But y’know…it’s nice talkin’ with you like this now ’n then…”
“Hey—Koyo-chan…c’mon by more often sometimes, will ya?”
“When someone goes cig’rette shoppin’, why not hop the train?”

Koyo appeared.
She brought water in the rice bowl.

“Thank you.”
“This really is good water.”
“If it just had a bit of sugar in it, there’d be nothing better…”
“Oh right—Koyo-chan, buy me an Asahi next time you come. I’ll pay you back then.”
“You’re plenty old enough to smoke a cigarette or two by now.”
“With that mouth of yours—a little tobacco tar stuck between your teeth—there’s not even a painting that could capture it, I tell ya.”
“Hey, I said buy it for me…”

“But I only got enough for today’s round-trip train fare, you know.
“Well, there’s no fire in the hibachi.”

“Then why not just forfeit the return fare and walk home? Wouldn’t that do?”

“From here to Kanda...?
“How far is it really? About ten ri or something...?”

“Don’t talk nonsense.
“It’s only thirty minutes by train to downtown.
“Thirty minutes by train means less than four kilometers at an average pace.”

“Is that so?
“That’s all?
“But I don’t want to walk four kilometers.
“Lately, whenever I walk even a little—” (she pressed her left chest) “—my heart starts pounding here and won’t calm down.”

“When you reach a certain age, everyone gets that way,” said Sokono. “Hell, I was like that myself until five or six years back. Go out somewhere and I’d be gasping for air till I got home. Even after making it back, I wouldn’t want to talk to a soul for hours.” He’d stare at the sky alone—when it turned dark, his eyes would drop to the scorch marks on the tatami as he heaved great sighs. Tough going, sure, but there’d been a strange sort of pleasure in it too.

“Oh, come on, that’s not the same thing at all!”

“Men and women have slightly different physical conditions, you know. Koyo-chan, you’re nineteen this year, I suppose? I’m twenty-eight. I’m not saying this to be mean, but don’t marry into some poor bastard’s household. Even if he’s poor, go for a guy who always keeps some cash on hand. You’ll be stuck when it really matters. And another thing—even if you quit halfway through life, don’t go running to some dropout’s place. A guy who’s been peddling from the start would be okay. But he’s gotta follow the principle of selling just one thing whenever possible.”

“Enough already—I don’t need to hear your lectures…”
“Well then, today’s a bust.”

Sokono: “Not a bust at all. We’ve got time to kill anyway…”
“Do stay a while longer.”

“That’s not what I mean.”
“It’s the money.”

If it was about money, Sokono would wait to discuss it until Tobita returned.
Even if he didn’t have it when leaving, there were times he brought it back upon returning home.
Of course, unless that guy found something on the street, there was no way he’d come back with a neat sum like ten yen.
Well—let’s both endure until summer comes, shall we?

Koyo (resignedly): “Well then, I’ll be going home.”

Sokono: “You’re leaving so abruptly.” “Well—at least put away that rice bowl.”

Koyo (holding the rice bowl, headed to the kitchen and, without stopping) “Goodbye…”

Sokono flipped over again.
This time, without even attempting to read a magazine, he wrapped a blanket around his waist and began moving both arms up and down in exercise-like motions—likely trying to warm himself.

At that moment, Tobita returned from outside.
He was wearing Western clothes.

Sokono: “Hey, Tonbi, you must’ve met someone out there just now.”

Tobita: “Yeah, met.”

Sokono: “So? Did they say anything about me?”

Tobita: “Nah, not really… They refused, said they won’t deliver anything unless it’s cash upfront from now on.”

Sokono: “What delivery?”

Tobita: “Rice or charcoal or something.”

Sokono: “Rice? Charcoal? What’s that supposed to be? The errand runner from Sagamiya?”

Tobita: That’s right.
“That guy wasn’t putting on his usual schtick today.”

“Is that all? Didn’t you meet anyone else?”
“I was just about to bring that up now.”

“Wait—in that case, I was here first,” Sokono interjected. “Hey—listen up. Until just now, she was sitting right there, even more cheerful than usual today, chatting away with me all chummy-like.” Her hair maintained its usual style, still freshly tied with pomade that hadn’t turned rancid yet, her apron showing the familiar scarlet lining of her good going-out wear. This year’s chilblains hardly stood out, and her tabi socks kept the shiny soles of her feet hidden from view.

Tobita cut in: “More importantly—I met that guy today.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Go on—take a guess.”

“Haven’t I been telling you? So you did keep quiet about coming here,” said Sokono. “Suddenly looking around like that—‘You’ve really put on some weight lately,’ she goes—damn her.”

“Never mind that—check this out,” countered Tobita. “When she looks at my face—her eyes already welling up with tears…”

“You liar! Even Tonbi’s picked up some fancy airs without me noticing.”

“I’m absolutely not lying! It went like this—just listen: ‘How truly nostalgic. How have you been lately? Since standing here talking isn’t getting us anywhere, let’s pop into a café around here.’”

Sokono (urgently): “Idiot, idiot. I don’t want to talk about outside matters. Day after day, you’ve been looking down on my principle—that fortune shouldn’t be waited for in bed—and yet…”

Tobita: “That’s right. You should go out and search everywhere,” he said. “A walking dog may find a stick—that’s the truth. As proof…”

Sokono: “No—shut up. Good fortune comes to those who wait—the proof is right here. Okay? Then what do you think happened next? The boarding house fee can wait anytime. I said that if you succeed, I’d even add a proper congratulatory token! And then…”

Tobita: “And then… It’s a corner of Café So-and-So.” With the primrose trembling gently on the table between them, the two men spoke earnestly of accumulated matters.

“What do you mean by 'accumulated matters'?”
“Listen—on my end, okay? Don’t be shocked.”
“We drank water from the same rice bowl!”
“That sweetness was exactly like sugar water.”
“Try adding some lemon extract or something—just a bit of tartaric acid.”
“It’s just like soda pop!”

“What’s soda pop?”
“We are cocktails.”

“Who paid?”

“The other party did.”
“The other party just came into his father’s inheritance, and on top of that, the company promoted him over three seniors to branch manager…”
“The monthly salary’s at least three hundred yen.”

“What’s this you’re talking about?”

“There, see? Hachiya from my hometown.”
I was happy.
More than being drunk on cocktails, I was drunk on my friend’s success.
I was drunk on a tale of happiness.
I was drunk on happiness itself.
I was drunk on my current state.

“Don’t go getting drunk on even trivial things.
So, is that what you mean by ‘fortune is found by walking around outside’?”

“A walking dog may find a stick,” said Tobita.
“A stick found by a dog? No wonder it’s worthless,” Sokono shot back.

“What the hell is your story?”

“Weren’t you listening?”

“I wasn’t really listening. Who came by?”

“Koyo-chan—the daughter from Ikenakakan.”

“What? The debt collector?”

“Debt comes second.”

“What’re you getting at by saying Koyo came here? How does that connect to your precious principle? What exactly did you gain from some girl who’s been surrounded by delinquent students and lost her spiritual virginity ages ago? This is what you call fortune?”

“What do you mean?”
“What gives you the right to go on about ‘spiritual virginity’?”
“An old friend becomes rich, becomes a branch manager—how does that relate to your current situation?”
“With just one cocktail, hasn’t your head gone off?”
“Compare fairly.”
“Even if it’s someone else’s, that’s fine.”
“Even if you’ve lost everything, that’s fine.”
“The fact that in this dreary house—this house where we can’t even pay rent properly—even if we’re hiding a thing or two, I managed to sit facing nothing less than an above-average beauty who claims to be nineteen years old this year, just the two of us across an unlit brazier—this is precisely what I’ve always...”

“That’s right—if you’re going to say that, then I’ll say my piece too.”
“In a metropolis of three million people centered on Greater Tokyo, who could possibly manage to encounter the most successful man among their friends?”
“Two people riding different trains and different buses can never meet.”
“If one person stays inside the house and another walks outside, then alas, they too cannot be blessed with the chance to meet face-to-face.”
Outside, it was another winter day.
The road was glazed with ice everywhere.
Men and women buried their chins in scarves, not even attempting to glance at the profiles of those they passed.

And yet…

Sokono: “I get it.”

Tobita: “And yet—”

“I’ve already got it.”

“No—let me finish saying it properly. And yet—whether to call it chance, divine arrangement, or a meeting of our hearts…”

“The dog walked and hit a stick.”

“Dog?”
“What’s this ‘dog’?”
“Who’s the dog here?”

“It’s you, isn’t it?”
“Is that so.”
“So being a dog’s fine after all?”

II

Sokono was lying down reading a magazine in the same manner as the previous scene.

It was evening.

The lattice door opened, and a man wearing a disabled soldier’s cap entered.

“Pardon the intrusion,” said the man.

“Who are you?”

“Being one such as myself—out of duty—perhaps you might spare…”

“What do you mean by ‘one thing’?”

“Bandages，or Seirogan pills…”

“Medicine?”

“Medicine is something we’ve absolutely no use for here at home…”

“Therefore，if you would consider this as consolation for our comrades who sacrificed for the nation…”

“And where exactly are these people you call comrades…?”

“We are one of them.”

Sokono sat up. “Ah, so that’s how it was. My apologies.”
He moved to the entranceway and knelt formally. “And you are…?”
“Well, well…”
After a pause: “Please do come in.”
“It’s a bit messy here, but…”

“No—here will do.”

“Oh no, we can’t have you there. That is absolutely out of the question.”
“To subject one of our nation’s sacrificing comrades to such treatment is unthinkable.”
“Now please…”
“Or perhaps—does some disability affect your person?”
“Shall I remove your shoes for you?”

“No need for that,” said the man. “I’ll just take a seat here for a moment. As you can see in this certificate here...”

Sokono—who had been scrutinizing the document—replied flatly, “Ah yes, I can read this sort of thing myself. Seems legitimate enough.”

The soldier chuckled nervously. “Ha, ha, ha! These days counterfeiters run wild—gives us legitimate ones nothing but trouble.”

“The real ones must find it rather trying,” Sokono remarked.

“You see,” said the man, “during wartime and its immediate aftermath, they pampered us—calling us deployed soldiers or honorably wounded men. But as time passed, their enthusiasm cooled; they grew prone to forgetting, until finally they ceased to acknowledge us at all.”

“Well done,” Sokono remarked. “Human coldness isn’t something that only rears its head at the end of love affairs.”

Those once called ‘disabled soldiers’ now bore a different designation—one that rolled more smoothly off the tongue and served its purpose better. Society’s general attitude toward these men had daily surpassed mere indifference, arriving at a species of contemptuous antipathy. “This is something we all find most unconscionable,” he continued, “and we cannot help but doubt whether those brave souls who offered their lives at the very threshold of death on battlefields must meet such an end.”

“You’re quite right,” said Sokono. “Excuse my asking—was it the Sino-Japanese or the Russo-Japanese War?”

“The Russo-Japanese for me,” replied the man. “At Tokuriji’s fierce battle—this arm here got torn clean off. I’m still one of the lucky ones though. There’s a fellow making rounds across the way who lost both arms and a leg at Mukden.”

“How dreadful,” Sokono remarked. “This recent incident must’ve produced plenty more of your kind.”

“No doubt,” the soldier nodded. “They’ll all share our fate soon enough, though they don’t know it yet. Lying there in hospitals surrounded by well-wishers’ flowers—they never notice what’s coming. Three years, five years, ten years down the line—they couldn’t begin to imagine the hunger, the shame, the bitterness.”

“What is the state doing? Are the newspapers asleep? Where are the wealthy scattering their money?”

“It’s truly rare to encounter someone like you who speaks this way.”

“I take no pleasure in rare things. I even wish to be harshly criticized as the sole person in Japan who has neglected my duty to all of you. Which unit did you belong to during this fierce battle at Tokuriji?”

He was a gunner in the second gun carriage of the first platoon, fourth company, second battalion, third field artillery regiment.

Sokono: “That’s a mouthful.”
“And what about the details of that fierce battle—along with your heroic conduct?”
“If you were a gunner, you must’ve aimed with some real ferocity, eh?”

The man: “I certainly did…”
“Though I can’t say I approve of boasting about one’s own exploits in a situation like this—my company commander, Captain Awaya…”

At that moment, a voice called out from the front.

“Hey, hurry up! They’re coming! They’re coming!”

The man hurriedly began putting away his medicines.

The man would continue this story another time...
"How about one of these bandages... twenty sen."

Sokono: "I appreciate the offer, but bandages are a bit..."
"As for injections, I don’t administer them myself—"

“And what about when you’re injured?”

“If I ever got hurt bad enough to need stitching, I’d just sew myself up with a needle—”

“Please hurry. How about a bag of Seirogan pills then…?”

“Speaking of those Seirogan pills—a rickshaw puller I know bought some, but they don’t seem to work too well. Wouldn’t that just make your fever worse?”

“That’s not true. Now hurry up. My partners are waiting… This one’s thirty sen….”

Sokono: “Don’t you have anything else... something different?”

“This is all there is.”
“Come on, either one...”
(Glancing back repeatedly with an anxious expression) “Don’t you want any?”

Sokono: “Let me consider it a little longer.”

Man: “You can do as you damn well please!”
(With those parting words, he hurried away as if fleeing.)

Sokono stood dumbfounded before returning to his spot and flopping down.

"You can do as you damn well please!" he muttered.
Even when not told so directly，one ultimately had no choice—but both creating such people and bringing them into existence，this was humanity’s original sin.
The hawking of Seirogan pills and those too impoverished to buy them engaging in idle chatter—these were wretched scenes among compatriots who professed national concern.
Before he knew it，Tobita’s mannerisms had begun seeping into him.
Sharing every waking moment truly was a dreadful affair.

At that moment, Tobita returned, his suit covered in mud.

“Tobita, hey—today was a disaster.”

“What’s with that pattern on your suit?”

“Nearly got myself killed by a freight truck. If there hadn’t been a ditch nearby, that would’ve been it.”

“So does a walking dog fall into a ditch?”

“Let disabled soldiers wait lying down! Damn it!”

III

The next morning, Sokono and Tobita, having finished something resembling breakfast, were staring at each other’s dejected faces.

“You’ve gotten thin too, Tonbi.”
“That yellowness in your eyeballs—hey, Kamaboko—that’s no ordinary thing. Jaundice from malnutrition.”

“Are you saying that because you occasionally eat something outside, you think your nutrition’s top-notch?”
“Whatever.”
“If you don’t at least take walks now and then, even geta would feel out of place like this.”

“Seriously, get out and breathe some fresh air once in a while.”
“There’s plenty of it going to waste out there.”
“Things that don’t cost money are damn rare these days, I tell you.”
“First off—cooping yourself up indoors all the time? Forget good fortune. You’re practically spitting in nature’s face.”

The location was a carefully chosen suburb.
The seasons were not confined to spring and autumn.
In the winter Musashino plain, amidst the groves of hackberry trees stripped bare of leaves, there lay an age-old poem.

"Cut it out—don't go composing poetry," said Sokono.
"You don't need to go to such lengths—I'll go out myself."
"Even if I just pick up some long cigarette butts, there's no harm done."

"I'm resting today," declared Tobita.
"I'm staying in."

"You're spouting such high-minded talk," Sokono retorted.
"Where exactly would you be resting?"
"Nobody worries whether you stay home or not."
"At least you won't bump into any strange poles or stakes."

Having said this, Sokono went out to the front.

Tobita, just as Sokono had been doing until the day before, laid out two zabuton cushions and lay down on top of them.

Eventually, he got up.
Apparently finding the bedding uncomfortable, he tried shifting into various positions.
He got up again.
He paced around the room.
However, he resolved to lie down again.

At that moment, a small bird flew into the room through the shoji screen.
He followed it with his eyes, then stood up, cornered it in a nook, and gently caught it with both hands.

“This—it’s a bush warbler,” Tobita declared. “Where did you fly in from, I wonder?”

While saying this, he brought a bamboo sieve from the kitchen and placed it upside down on the tatami.

“Hey you—try singing!” Tobita commanded.
The bush warbler let out a clumsy warble.
It attempted a prolonged, faltering trill.
“Try singing like this,” he demonstrated.
“No good—this one hasn’t even been to school yet.”

Thereupon, as if having forgotten the bird’s existence, he lay down again.

After a while, the bush warbler emitted a single skillful cry.

“Oh! Now you decide to sing?”
“So you got sulky when they told you not to go to school, eh?”
“There there, that’s enough now.”
“If you sing too much, next thing you know they’ll be calling you a merchant upstart.”

The bush warbler continued to sing—one cry, then two, then three.

“Alright, I get it, I get it,” said Tobita. “You’ve got decent pipes, you know. I’ve gone to the trouble of staying home today. Don’t make me feel like I’m strolling through some damn plum grove.”

The bush warbler kept right on singing.

“Quit already! Won’t you stop?” Tobita snapped. “When I don’t wanna listen, I don’t wanna listen to your squawking either. Just scram already. Go back where you came from. Fly off to Italy or wherever!”

As he said this and was about to lift the bamboo sieve, a voice called out from outside.

“I beg your pardon.”

Tobita (left the bamboo sieve as it was and went to the entrance) “Please come in.”

A master-like, or rather, an old man affecting such airs, entered.

“Forgive this sudden intrusion, but might I inquire whether you happen to be keeping a bush warbler in your residence?”

Tobita: (Startled) “Oh—no, you see, when I was sitting there just now, it flew into the room from outside, so I caught it and placed a bamboo sieve over it.”

Old Man: “In that case, might I trouble you to let me have a look at it? The truth is, while I was feeding it moments ago—something must have startled it—it suddenly flew out of its cage and came darting in this direction. Ordinarily, it’s quite accustomed to me, and such a thing has never happened before—what could have caused it only today of all days—”

“Ah, I see,” said Tobita. “That must’ve been worrying for you. You heard it sing just now, didn’t you?”

“Indeed—though I understood the situation merely from hearing its song,” replied the old man, “I thought it would be rude to mention it so abruptly…”

“Well, there’s no need for me to stand on such formality,” Tobita countered. “After all, I was just hoping someone would come take it off my hands anyway…”

The old man and Tobita worked together to transfer the bush warbler from the bamboo sieve to the cage.

“Thank you most sincerely. Had this fallen into professional hands, this bush warbler would never have returned to me. Though people may say otherwise—this is a bird I’ve nurtured with my utmost devotion—I truly couldn’t have borne its escape now. Thanks to its merits, it took first prize at last year’s exhibition. I tell you this trusting in your discretion—it holds a current market value of three hundred yen. Oh my, you’ve truly been my salvation. I shall properly express my gratitude another time—I am Ube, a retired gentleman residing beyond that field yonder.”

Tobita (having no idea how to respond, simply bowed his head at each word from the other man).

Old Man: "Well then, I must take my leave. There appear to be two nameplates at your residence—you are..."

“I’m the one named Tobita.”

“Ah, is it pronounced ‘Tobita’?”
“Ah, I see. Well then…”

The old man left.

Tobita (returning to his seat): Three hundred yen, huh?
"There really are some remarkable bush warblers in this world."
"If that bird had been banknotes or such, I might have been tempted toward wickedness."
"Well now—isn't this what they mean when they say money grows wings?"

At that moment, Sokono came ambling back.

Sokono found that after all, the outside remained too vast for him to feel settled. If it's a tree, it has to be planed wood or it doesn't suit my nature.

This was why he bore the nickname Kamaboko.
The fact you'd been made to stand before wainscoting in middle school had decided your whole damn life from the start.

"Hey Tonbi," Sokono said, "go tell one of your brothers to send another five yen or so."
"As for me, I've still got over three weeks till month's end."

Tobita leaned forward. "Wanna hear a story that'll make you kick yourself?"
"I had this...thing worth three hundred yen right here in my grasp."

"Quit screwing around," Sokono snapped.
"Show it."

“It’s already gone.”
“Someone took it away.”

“What’s this ‘thing’ you’re going on about…?”
“A bird.”

“A three-hundred-yen bird?”
“You had it in your grasp?”
“A dream?”

“It’s neither a dream nor an illusion,” Tobita said. “When I heard that voice earlier, I knew this was a shady character. Japan’s most renowned bush warbler.”

“Meiō?” Sokono asked. “The ō...?”

“A bush warbler.”

“That’s it?”

Tobita continued from there like this.
“And then—this.”
(He demonstrated with hand gestures how it had flown in from outside and been captured)

“So you mean…?”
(Sokono held up three fingers)

“Like this—this way, this way, this way!”
(Tobita pantomimed the old man’s arrival, inspection, retrieval, and departure)

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The owner must’ve heard its voice and came to claim it.”

“Did you hand it over unconditionally?”

Tobita: The condition was just—well—having him take it away before it could drop any droppings or anything.

Sokono: That’s why you should’ve stayed outside!

Tobita: If it were Kamaboko, what conditions would you set?

Sokono: If it’s a three-hundred-yen article, I’d demand ten to twenty percent as a reward.

Tobita: But if I didn’t know it was such a valuable thing and suddenly told him to take it back right away…?

“It’s not too late even after handing it over.”

“Still, it’s more refined if we don’t put on such airs ourselves.”
“Dignified.”

“No matter how dignified your words sound, that getup makes people distrust you.”
“If anything, spouting noble phrases just makes you seem hungrier for gain.”
“It’s like asking a monk his sutra fee—he’ll just smirk and say ‘As your honor wishes.’”

“I don’t regret what I did.”
“Fact is, though he didn’t mention compensation then and there, he did say he’d come express his gratitude properly later.”

“Can you really count on something like that?” Sokono retorted. “Even some guy you played billiards with at a hot spring would say ‘Be sure to visit me when you’re back in Tokyo’.”

At that moment, a young woman's voice came from the entrance.

“Pray forgive my intrusion.”

“She’s here!” Sokono exclaimed, jumping up.
“Show her in,” Tobita replied calmly.
Sokono went to the entrance. “And who might this be...?”

“I have come on an errand from Ube beyond Hara,” said the woman with a polite bow.

“Oh, um... About the bush warbler...?”

"That is correct," said the maid with a bow. "Regarding the gentleman referred to as Mr. Tobita—"
"When my master called earlier, he mentioned having had the honor of meeting you..."

Sokono shot a glance toward Tobita before stiffening his posture. "Ah! In that case, he is present. Actually—" His voice climbed an octave as he switched to stilted formality, "—it was I who received him."
He executed an awkward half-bow. "I must apologize for my earlier discourtesy."
"You're... most kind to trouble yourself..."

The maid produced a cloth-wrapped package from her sleeve. "Concerning this matter, my master intended to come personally, but fearing it might seem overly ceremonious, he has humbly instructed me—though it pains me to be so presumptuous—to present this trifling token of gratitude."
She extended the bundle with both hands, eyes lowered. "Please deign to accept it..."

“What is this? We really shouldn’t accept such a thing... No—but since you’ve taken the trouble, I suppose we must do something—though as things stand, what should we do? Or rather, does it matter what we do?”

“Ah, please...”
“Pray excuse me.”

The maid departed.

Sokono opened the package wrapped in formal paper before Tobita.

Tobita: “Let me open it!”

Sokono counted the banknotes beside him: “One, two, three, four, five…”
“Isn’t there another one?”

“There isn’t.”

“Fifty yen?” Sokono said. “That’s fair.”

“What do you say?” he pressed Tobita. “Just as I’ve always maintained.”

“Hmm,” Sokono conceded. “This counts as a success.”

“Surrendered?” Tobita challenged. “I’ll have you hear my principle again.” He drew himself up. “‘A walking dog may—’”

“Eh?”

“Hmm?”

“Odd,” Sokono murmured. “Just slightly.”

“I see—it’s strange,” said Tobita. “If a dog waits while sleeping…?” He paused. “No, that’s not quite it.”

“Ah! How’s this? This is my victory after all,” Sokono declared with sudden inspiration.
“This money might as well have been obtained by me.”
“Hand it over.”

Tobita (heatedly): “Wait!
‘Good fortune comes to those who wait.’
Were you sleeping?”

Sokono (flustered): “Huh?”

What did this outcome mean for Tobita’s approach?
It was undoubtedly I who obtained the money.
My luck.

Sokono: “But I’m the one who made you get that money.
That’s my principle.
You were following my policy by staying asleep.”

Tobita: “Then that means a dog can get hit by a stick even if it lies still instead of walking!
Hurrah! Hurrah!”

Sokono: “Good fortune comes to those who wait while walking.”
“Hurrah!”

“Come on, let’s go out.”

The two men sprang to their feet with vigor.