Pathway to Japanese Literature

Man

Woman

Suganuma Rui

Kyōno Seiichi

Tsuchiya Sonoko

A desolate seaside hotel.

Early April.

A clear, quiet evening.

The stage was set in a corner of the spacious sunroom that also served as a hall.
Through the glass doors straight ahead, the separate dining hall could be seen some distance away, while to the left was a door leading down to the lawn.
To the right, stairs leading fully back and upward—the second floor was guest rooms.
From the base of those stairs, to the right, a dimly lit separate hall leading to the entrance.

By the windows, chairs and tables were neatly arranged, with potted plants on the tables.
In the center of the room was a ping-pong table.
Beside the stairs stood a large electric phonograph.

A man and a woman descended the stairs.

The man was forty-five or six, the woman twenty-eight or nine; they appeared like a married couple yet somehow didn’t.
The man had the sturdy build and demeanor of a self-made bureaucrat who had worked through school, while the woman might best be described as an amateurish sort in her trade.
The two of them sat down across from each other at a single table.

As the outside grew darker, the interior darkened correspondingly.
Soon, the lights in the dining hall came on.

“You’ve been to this hotel before, haven’t you?”

“Why…?”

“But you know your way around here far too well… And besides…”

“I can tell which way the sea’s visible right away.”

“That’s not what I mean. That—what do they call her? The head maid? That old woman who showed us to our room—wasn’t she speaking in an overly familiar manner?”

“Oh, people like that are common.”
“No—not just inns.”
“In customer-service businesses, that’s the crux.”
“At a shop where you first shopped, don’t they say ‘Thank you kindly’ every time?”

Woman: ……….

“Since we both wanted to go somewhere unfamiliar, we made a point of coming to a place like this.”
“It wasn’t such a brilliant idea after all.”
“An off-season coast isn’t much to speak of.”

“Honestly, why have you been to so many places?”
“Because you claim to know all the places I want to visit—it’s getting tiresome.”

“Then why don’t you know anywhere at all?”

The sound of a bell ringing in the corridor.
The announcement that the dining hall had opened.

"I'll just go freshen up."

"The room's number seventeen."
"Now, you must take the key..."

The woman ascended the stairs.
Meanwhile, Suganuma Rui (fifty years old), the head maid, appeared from the right-hand hall with a white woolen jacket lightly draped over her plump body with an air of self-importance.
She nodded to the man, opened the phonograph lid, selected a record, and put on a lively tango.
Then she sat down in a nearby chair, closed her eyes, and listened intently.
A manager-like voice called out from the front desk: “Lights for the Sun Room!”

Suganuma Rui started, stood up, and hurriedly twisted the switch.
Her gaze met that of the man looking this way.

"The sea is pleasantly calm."

“The hotel’s quiet too.”

“Yes, but until the day before yesterday, we had such a shortage of rooms.”

“Hmm. Is that so?”

“We had a great many honeymoon guests.
And with the children’s school holidays…
This establishment caters to families, you see…”

“You’ve been here long, at this hotel…?”

“Yes, it’s been exactly four years.”
“Even now, I was thinking about that very thing.”
The time I came here was my fifty-first spring... Though it sounded odd to phrase it that way, the season had indeed been around this time back then, with cherry blossoms at the entrance just beginning to bloom here and there.

“Your story seems interesting.”
“I thought you seemed like someone who’d lived an unusual life—so before coming here, were you on a ship or something?”

“How did you come to realize such a thing?”

“It’s not like I particularly know,” said the man, “but there’s something seasoned about how you wear Western clothes. You simply wouldn’t see that unless it was on a ship that plied to America.”

“I’m impressed.”
“I was aboard that ship for sixteen years.”
“I will never forget those days as long as I live.”

The woman, having finished her makeup, descended the stairs.

“Shall we have dinner?”

“Yes. And you?”

“Any time’s fine.”

The man stood up and began walking.

Their figures vanished.

As if exchanging places, a young man came down from the second floor.
Kyōno Seiichi (21).

“Shall Rui partner you in ping-pong?”

Kyōno: “I’m tired today.”
“Walked too much again.”
(He sat down on a chair)

Rui: “You don’t look particularly frail.”
“But you mustn’t overexert yourself.”
“After all, you’ve come here for recuperation…”

Kyōno: “Don’t talk like some tutor.”

“Oh my, today truly is a strange day.”

“Why do you say that?”

“All of you keep trying to guess my former life,” said Rui.

“I couldn’t care less about your former life,” Kyōno retorted. “Whether you were some tutor or hotel housekeeper makes no real difference.”

“Would Sir care for cigarettes? I shall fetch them.”

“Don’t bother. The hag’s already got ’em out.”

He stood up and entered the right-hand side.

A long time.

Before long, once again, a woman in her late thirties, showing modern taste in her kimono, descended from the second floor with an affected gait.
It was Madam Tsuchiya Sonoko.

“You must be bored, Madam.”

“It’s quite all right,” Madam Tsuchiya Sonoko said. “After all, I came here to be bored.” She settled into a chair.

Suganuma Rui clasped her hands. “You’ve no conversation partner at all, truly...”

“Now that you mention it,” Sonoko tilted her head, “that student often appears inclined to chat. What sort of person is he?”

“Oh my,” Rui’s eyes widened slightly, “you still weren’t aware? That gentleman is the young master of the Kyōno Viscount family.”

“And you’re not merely styling yourself as ‘Madam’?”

“Don’t be absurd.” Rui’s voice carried decades of practiced deference. “Those from the mansion are always paying visits.” Her starch-stiff apron rustled as she straightened. “He’s a refreshingly unassuming, fine gentleman.”

“Where was your finishing school?”

Rui: “Well, I never inquired about that, but he must certainly be of university age now.”

Madam: “If I can’t even manage that much…”

Rui: “What do you mean?”

Madam: “No, I meant myself here. Well then, perhaps I’ll return to Tokyo once and see my boy’s face.”

Rui: “You really should visit sometimes. They must be feeling lonely over there as well.”

Madam, do you have children?

As for that, Madam, I have not entered into marriage.
"There are various reasons for this."
"As I mentioned earlier to the gentleman of that couple, you see, I had been working aboard ships until I came here…"

On ships?
“Ah, that explains…”

Rui: Oh no, that’s precisely it.
“As for that ship, I served sixteen years there, but before that, I was serving in a British gentleman’s household as a governess for quite some time.”
"That began when I was eighteen years old."

“But if you had wanted to marry, you could have...”

“That was not the case, you see. Could it be that in my youth I had forgotten about marriage? By the time I realized it, I had already grown too old. There are strange tales to be found if one looks, don’t you agree?”

“How dreadful.”

“By the way, the time I spent aboard ships was my flowering season.”
“Not that I mean it in that particular sense—though one might say life was pleasant enough. The work proved rough, but I felt it allowed me to be of greatest service to others.”
“Though passengers’ faces changed with each voyage, it wasn’t as constant as at a hotel. Even someone like me found herself valued by all, so each day carried its purpose.”
“When storms struck, duties would multiply here and there.”
“Those prone to seasickness—forgive my forwardness—came to depend on me, particularly the ladies who’d insist none but myself would do. Thus I too devoted myself wholeheartedly to their care.”
“Whenever we reached the final port, I always wept.”

“Madam, among ship crews there must be quite a few dependable men, don’t you think?”

“Well, it’s not that there weren’t any,” Rui replied. “But I was already an old woman past thirty, you see.”

“An old woman past thirty…”

“It’s odd—when you work surrounded by many men, you end up unable to grow particularly close to any of them.”

“Even if that were true on your side,” Madam countered, “wouldn’t someone from their side have tried to approach you?”

“Oh my, you’re quite perceptive… Then, shall I speak of my shame?”

“Madam, please tell me.”
“If it’s too shameful to tell, you needn’t say it, you know.”

“There’s no need for me to hide anything from you, Madam.”
“I am a woman, after all.”
“It wouldn’t be strange for such a thing to have happened once.”
“I will tell you, Madam.”

“Oh my, oh my—this seems to be turning into quite the weighty matter.”

“No, no—it’s truly nothing of that nature. Should such a tale reach refined ears like yours, Madam, it would surely provoke laughter—let me see now... That would have been the year after I first boarded the ships, when I was thirty-one. Yet unless I first recount what preceded it, you could never grasp the person I am... Though this too may grow lengthy and try your patience. Ah, why ever do I feel such compulsion to speak today? Were there but someone willing to listen, I believe I might pour forth every last detail from my birth until this very moment.”

“Madam, don’t say such things.”
“I’ll listen to you—no, that’s a lie… Let me hear it…”
“Or perhaps I should hear it properly after dinner…”

“Either would be perfectly acceptable.”

“In that case—though I might have to excuse myself midway—is that all right?”

“Oh my, Madam—if you become so formal with me, my tongue stiffens up.”

“Shall we leave the phonograph playing?”

“This is my responsibility—I must keep it playing throughout meal times.”

“Now, where should I begin… I was born in Ise.”
“My parents moved to Yokohama when I was seven years old.”

“Really—starting from there?”
“Oh, very well.”
“Yes, that’s perfectly fine.”

Rui: “I’m sorry.”
“Please bear with me—”
“When we came to Yokohama and began a fish trade business—though from what I recall, it was being run quite extensively.”
“Thanks to that, even I was able to attend elementary school at the time—a rare opportunity—and learned some reading and writing... But given the era being what it was and our surroundings being what they were—where even those employed by foreigners enjoyed good standing—my parents eventually resolved to send me, their only daughter, into service.”
“They were at a loss about what to do with it—and I kept refusing…”
“To be sure, there were indeed some girls among us who occasionally had unsavory rumors spread about them—but even as my mother pleaded until her mouth went sour, I simply kept refusing, and so four or five years passed by.”

“But then—due to some trivial incident—my resolve suddenly crumbled… I must explain: around that time, a girl named Miss Ohatsu from the neighborhood, whom I had treated like a sister, ran off with some man without consulting me.”
“Well, after all that, staying at home became rather dreary—and fortunately, an opportunity presented itself—so I resolved to enter the service of a banker’s household in Honmoku, that of Mr. George Clepton.”
“There were three children in total—the eldest being thirteen years old.”
“The master was what you might call a splendid gentleman in modern terms; the mistress was said to be of noble birth—an elegant and meticulous lady.”
“The eldest was a young lady, next came the young master, and the youngest—Miss Catherine—was naturally also a young lady. This made for what we call oyatsu in Japan… and I was entrusted with overseeing that.”
“They didn’t cause any trouble at all—I was quite astonished by that.”
“Though I should say they didn’t require much tending—they spent half each day playing cheerfully in the garden.”
“They were exactly like little dolls.”
“In comparison—why ever do our Japanese children go to such lengths?”
“Many distinguished guests come here as well—but when they bring their children—the mothers and maidservants devote all their efforts to keeping them entertained.”
“It pains me to watch them.”
“This has turned into quite the digression.”

Madam (suppressing a yawn)

Rui (unaware of this): “And so I remained by the youngest young lady’s side until she turned twenty years old—never once reprimanded by anyone throughout that time.”
“Whether this reflects my pride or my master’s pride, I cannot say—but such a person as myself would declare she was truly fortunate.”
“While watching the young lady grow, I had so utterly forgotten my own advancing years...”

Madam (smiles faintly)

Rui: “Huh?”

Madam: “No, it’s nothing…”

Rui: “And so it went—the eldest young lady was married off here to a diplomat, the young master graduated from his school in Hong Kong and began working at the trading company there... Then finally, Miss Catherine, whom I attended to, came of proper age herself, and on that occasion, it was decided she would be sent back to relatives in her home country.”
“I believe there were likely marriage arrangements to consider as well.”
“And so, I was permitted to accompany her to her home country.”
“Since I had been entrusted with such an important duty alone—how should I put it—I could no longer attend to my own affairs.”
“During those forty-some days aboard the ship, I scarcely slept a wink through the nights.”
“When I arrived at the port of Marseille and was met by those who had come from London, I felt such relief—but when returning to Japan aboard that same ship, I found myself so utterly exhausted that tears would spill before anyone at all.”
“Since the purser and Mr. Chief Mate—who knew the circumstances—so kindly looked after me, I was finally granted leave by my master thereafter and resolved to work aboard that ship, unfamiliar though it was.”
“Fate is such a mysterious thing, isn't it?”
“I had never even dreamed of—a life-risking job aboard a ship, if you will.”
“That suited my nature perfectly.”
“I remained perfectly composed even when storms battered the sea.”
“On days when even the gentlemen found their meals unappealing, I could eat even more—much to everyone’s amusement—but truly, life at sea suits one so well.”
“Every single day was an indescribable joy.”
“The ports yet to come appear vividly before my eyes.”
“That constant anticipation of tomorrow—it’s something you can’t understand on land.”
“Especially for those like us who have no hopes of our own—if there isn’t even a destination in sight, each passing day becomes pitch dark.”
“Even as we live like this, can one not help but be unable to think of tomorrow…?”
(She quietly takes out a handkerchief and wipes her tears.)

(her tone now brighter than before) “However, even now I sometimes feel this hotel resembles a ship’s interior.”
“Listen—can you hear the waves?”
“When I switch off the lights and lie in bed, I somehow feel my whole body moving along with the room.”
“Oh no—it’s not just during those moments.”
“Even when inspecting hallway cleanliness or working the phonograph here like this, I’ll suddenly wonder—‘Which port are we entering this time?’—such preposterous thoughts.”
“At those times my heart races like a girl’s again—so absurd it makes me laugh at myself.”
“Lately I’ve taken to deliberately conjuring such moods.”
“It works rather well.”
“But when I unexpectedly glimpse the lawn through the window—why then I feel thoroughly deflated.”

“Why did you quit working on ships?”

“That’s precisely why.”
“Madam… I was injured, you see—two bones right here (pressing her chest) were snapped clean through.”

“Oh, how dreadful! Did you fall from somewhere…?”

“No, my foot got tangled in a rope... When lifting cargo... You know those cables... People often get hurt by those.”

“Even after that, you stayed on the ship?”

“It was my own mistake, you see.”

“Yes, yes—and what about that important story from before…?”

“What was I saying again… Ah, my romance, you mean? …(laughs)”

Madam (drawn into laughing too): “To call it your own romance, you must have considerable confidence.”

Rui (laughing again): “Oh, Madam, really... Well then, I won’t mention that anymore.”

Madam: “Oh, you can’t possibly mean that! You can’t just stop after the preface…”

Rui: “Even that went on too long... No, I didn’t mean it as a preface… It’s just that I’m rather clumsy at storytelling… I’ve spoken nothing but unnecessary things.”

“No, not at all…”
“Well then, shall we move to the main story…?”

Rui: “This is truly a confidential matter.”
“No—it’s neither confidential nor anything of the sort. I’ve never spoken of this to anyone before. But I simply wished for you, Madam, to say just one thing: ‘I understand your feelings.’ That was all...”
“But it’s such an... overwhelming story, you see...”
“Well—perhaps only because it’s an old tale that it might be somewhat easier for you to hear and allow me to recount.”

“As I mentioned earlier, aboard the ship—excluding the passengers—when it came to women, there were six others besides myself.
Of those, two were married women, and the remaining three were young ladies just over twenty, I should think.
Though they were being reprimanded, I couldn’t tell what they were doing behind closed doors.
Moreover, as you well know, one side consisted of roughnecks.
Even in our presence, they would commit quite outrageous acts.
Amidst all that, though I was of a certain age, not a single soul ever directed playful banter my way.
Even so—if I may say thirty-five—well, Madam—since I’ve never kept house, neither my heart nor body had quite become those of an old woman yet.
While I bitterly resented those people’s indecent conduct on one hand, truthfully—how shall I put it—I suppose you could say I envied them…
I beg your pardon—using such crude language…
You may laugh, but it is no falsehood.
It is only now that I can speak of these matters.”

“Madam, I didn’t laugh at that.”
“Your candid storytelling feels refreshing.”

“Yes—though I fear my frankness oversteps propriety—today I’m resolved to lay myself utterly bare.”
“When I imagine how cleansing the aftermath might be, shame and reputation hold no meaning.”
“Moreover, should someone as kind and perceptive as yourself, Madam, hear every last detail laid bare—I’d harbor not a single regret.”

“And so, well, that’s how about a year went by.
“I wish I could express that peculiar, restless feeling from that time more skillfully and clearly, but somehow, I find it too absurd to put into words…
“It somewhat resembles that... longing... or whatever one calls it—the kind felt between sixteen or seventeen to around twenty—but with something persistently urgent and a strangely jarring sharpness to the mood.
“At times I feel like blurting out something reckless, yet at the same time wish to maintain restraint—truly, the more I dwell on it, the more convoluted my emotions become.
“Well, you see—I had resolved never to imitate others’ behavior no matter what, so in that regard, I should have been content being someone from a different world. Yet when I hear even married women not much older than me gleefully gossiping—‘Oh, so-and-so gave me a strange look’ or ‘Such-and-such guest put his hand on my back’—it makes me want to scold them that this only happens because they leave themselves open. But if I were to say such a thing, they’d surely start giggling and retort, ‘No, that’s not why—the reason no one does that to you is because you…’ or so I imagine.”
“Of course, even unspoken, I should have understood what followed.”
“I am not such a fool as to be unaware of that, and there is such a thing as an honest mirror.”
“No, I was well aware of that much.”
“But in that regard, Madam, there is no woman in the world who thinks herself the ugliest.”
“Whether it’s vanity or whatnot, not wanting to think of oneself that way is simply human nature, I suppose.”
“How many times have I thought, ‘Alright, then…’? But since I couldn’t devise any further plan on my own, there was nothing to be done.”
“When I come before men, I unintentionally adopt a reserved tone.”
“Even so, now that I’ve aged beyond recognition as either woman or man, I no longer fret over such things—but back then, no matter how I put it, it was unbearable.”
“Occasionally, when men would offer some casual pleasantries, just that alone would lift my spirits—a pitiable state that persisted for about two years…”
“It was precisely around that time.”
“The ship had departed Singapore, and it was the second evening.”
“Because it was so stifling, I quietly went up to the deserted lower deck near the stern in my nightclothes.”
On top of the rolled and stowed sails, the boat’s bottom hung low.
Assuming no one was watching, I let the wind fill my slightly opened chest in the shadow.
My casually tied-up hair suddenly cascaded down onto my shoulders and just like that streamed back.

The sky was clear, and stars filled its expanse.
“Those southern stars—you must have heard of them, Madam—shone with an uncanny brilliance, their hues utterly unlike those we see in Japan.”
“You might find it peculiar to discuss celestial matters here, but gazing at those stars makes me feel as though every impurity in my heart were cleansed away.”
“Once when attending church with a young mistress, I heard hymns accompanied by the organ and thought them soul-cleansing—but this was different. Though words fail me, it felt more... luminous. As if realizing I’d been pure and blameless all along—a gratifying sort of pride.”
“In that moment, I deeply understood how blessed I’d be to live my days untouched by any man’s hand.”
“Come now—this body I offer unto you alone,” I murmured, spreading my arms as though embracing sea and sky.
Then drawing a great breath, I suddenly pressed myself prone against the railing...
For some time I remained thus, listening to waves shatter against the hull.

Gradually, an inexplicable sadness welled up within me again.

Thinking this wouldn't do, I shifted my gaze back toward the sky.
With that momentum, I staggered unsteadily backward and landed lightly on my bottom atop the piled sails—even I was surprised by my own boldness.
Seizing the opportunity, I then lay down on my back atop them.

It was at that moment.
A black shadow flickered over my head—and in that instant, the large man’s arms stretched out before my eyes.

I tried to cry out, but when I saw the man’s face, my voice failed me.

The face was unfamiliar—but young and robust.
He wore a pale yellow jacket, and I realized only that he was a stoker.
Without uttering a single word, by the sheer physical force of his approach, I was utterly overwhelmed.
“Who are you?
Huh? Who are you?”…… I merely continued to moan like that.
“It was spineless of me.”
“But there was nothing else I could do.”
In my dream, I called out to the man’s retreating figure.
“Wait…
What do you intend to do with me… Wait… Let me see your face… one more time… Then… at least tell me your name… just your name…”
(She finally broke down in tears there.)
(Madam, also unable to contain her emotion, quietly pressed her eyes with her sleeve.)

A rather long interval.

Rui: “Forgive me, Madam...”
“I was not supposed to become this distraught.”

Madam: “So, what happened to that man?”

Rui: “The next day, I searched the engine room from corner to corner.
“I tried by any means to find the face I had half-remembered.
“It was no use.
“Faces blackened with coal—all alike save for their gleaming eyes—merely stared at me with suspicion.
“After that, every time we arrived at a port, I would stand at the crew’s entrance and check each face one by one.
“I couldn’t find a single trace.”

“Then… if you had found that man… what did you intend to do…?”

“That’s just how it is, Madam—what could I possibly do…? Of course, I fully intended to voice every shred of resentment. There were moments when I even contemplated exacting revenge. But when I ultimately failed to identify him, I simply yearned to meet him just once—and had he declared ‘It was me,’ I would have resolved to forgive all of it.”

"But when I realized that hope too was lost, I could no longer bear to go on living."
"I hated myself more than anyone else."
“Today I would die, tomorrow I would die—how many times did I peer into the sea’s depths?”
“Yet at the very moment I was about to act—every time—the man’s figure would appear before my eyes.”

“He must be somewhere”—when she thought so… her resolve inevitably weakened again…
As she went on like this, the days and months swiftly passed by.

“It’s strange how I came to abandon everything despite having wanted so badly to die.”
“And so I came to feel that I did not want to make that past event a detestable memory within my lifetime.”
“It may sound odd to say I didn’t want to—but naturally, I began viewing that incident through different eyes.”
“In other words—if I may call it an experience that occurred just once in my lifetime—depending on how one looks at it, it has become a precious memory...”
“No—I don’t mean to boast about it particularly.”
“Please understand—that even in such circumstances, the fate of a sorrowful woman seeks solace.”
“Ah—I’ve gone on at such length.”
“Truly—you’ve been most patient.”
“Hasn’t a considerable amount of time passed?”
“Madam—your meal...?”

“Madam doesn’t mind.”
“It’s still early...”

“Well then, Madam—now that you’ve kindly heard this story of mine—might I ask you to share your opinion?”

“An opinion...you say?”

“No, you see—Madam—about that man from earlier—what are your thoughts? Though it may now seem inconsequential either way, I wished to ask for your perspective as reference—the opinion of someone of your standing… If you’ll permit me this impertinence, please speak without reservation…”

“About that man’s attitude?”
“An opinion… you mean?”

“Well—if I may call it an attitude—it’s that feeling, I suppose.”
“Toward me.”

“Oh, isn’t that just as you’ve been thinking?”
“It’s not a matter of how one must think, but rather something people may consider however they please.”
“You’re quite the philosopher.”

“A scholar? Perish the thought—but I do enjoy pondering various matters.”

“Oh, come now—let’s end this discussion.”
(With those words, she wearily turned away.)

“Yes…”
“I must excuse myself for a moment.”
“As there are guests arriving at nine o’clock tonight, I must go prepare their room.”

“Well then, Madam, please make yourself comfortable…”

As Rui’s figure disappeared to the right, Kyōno appeared there, smoking a post-meal cigarette.

Madam quietly stood up and walked to the left-hand window.

Kyōno nonchalantly began approaching her.

The two of them remained still for a while, gazing out the window in similar postures.

Kyōno: “Excuse me for asking, but are you not the older sister of Kogura Saburō?”

Madam: “No.”

“I see,” said Kyōno.
“Well then...”
“Kogura’s a friend of mine—there was talk his older sister married into the Tsuchiya name. That’s what reminded me.”

“Tsuchiya’s a common enough surname,” replied Madam.

“Is that so?”
“But people resembling kin that closely—that’s hardly common.”
“Forgive my bluntness, but Kogura himself bears an uncanny likeness to you, Madam.”

“There’s no need for you to force a resemblance.”
“If you’re bored, I could at least keep you company with some conversation.”
(She sat down and laughed.)

Kyōno: “Ugh, do you have to respond so sarcastically…?”
“But even you, ‘Auntie,’ must’ve grown tired of listening to the same record by now.”

“Wait a moment.”
“To call someone ‘Auntie’—just how old are you?”

Kyōno: “I’m twenty-one.”
“And you, Auntie?”

Madam: “You’re such a delinquent.”

Kyōno: “That old hag must’ve said something to you.”

Madam: “‘Old hag’? Who?”

Kyōno: “Let me warn you—if you get that crone talking, she’ll pester you endlessly.
‘If it were up to my mother,’ she’d say, ‘the woman’s not quite right in the head.’ Haven’t you noticed?”

Madam: “How convenient—to dismiss someone as mad. Yet even madwomen speak truths sometimes. Where does one draw that line?
Truth be told, I’ve just endured her life story.
Did you endure it too?”

“No, I don’t let her tell me,” said Kyōno, “but it seems she once did to my mother. She said she was exasperated by it.” He tapped his cigarette ash. “My mother also says she heard that story from someone else—so basically, she’s a repeat offender.”

“No wonder she’s become so practiced at it,” Madam replied. Her lacquered nails tapped the windowsill. “But it isn’t a lie, is it?”

“In that case,” Kyōno leaned against the peeling wallpaper, “wouldn’t the lie be more interesting?”

Madam’s laughter came brittle as sea glass. “Ah... What a strange feeling...” She straightened her obi with sharp precision. “I will go finish my meal.”

After Madam left, Kyōno sat down in a chair.

Suganuma Rui appeared hurriedly and took up her position again beside the phonograph.

She closed her eyes and listened intently to the record.

“Hey old woman, quit it already,” said Kyōno. “Nobody’s listening to that crap anyway.”

“But it’s supposed to play until nine o’clock...” Rui replied.

“Fine, whatever—just put on something livelier then.”

Rui stopped the phonograph and switched to a jazz record.

“Young Master, you do seem fond of lively things,” she cautioned, “but that will only worsen your condition. This hotel gets quite crowded during summer, yet when summer comes, guests naturally venture elsewhere.”

Kyōno did not respond, blowing cigarette smoke.

“When guests we’ve only just grown familiar with suddenly take their leave, it truly leaves one feeling rather forlorn.
On a ship, one knows in advance the day of parting.
When attending to all manner of services with the resolve that they shall continue until that day—ensuring no oversights remain—and yet a guest whom one had still expected to stay suddenly declares they will depart today... something tightens in one’s chest.
There are times when one thinks, ‘Oh dear, it’s done.’
Things like having intended to change the sheets tonight, or that a room to your liking would become available tomorrow—such matters strangely linger on one’s mind.”

Kyōno: ………….

The first couple, having finished their meal as well, entered.

They sat down side by side on the chairs to the left.
The couple occasionally looked in Rui’s direction.

Kyōno opened the door and descended toward the garden.
At the front desk, the call bell rang.

Rui hurried toward it.

Woman (watching Rui’s retreating figure): “So it’s true after all?”

Man: “Seems that way.
She’s put on weight, but there’s something familiar about her.”

Woman: “If she says she worked on ships, then it must be so.
Do you think she hasn’t noticed…?”

Man: “But you—I never spoke to her properly. Just glimpsed her face once or twice in a crowd.
From her perspective, she was just one of five or six women.
Each of them became gossip material.
That one was definitely the oldest and plainest.
Add to that her oddly proper manners—the men didn’t even try approaching her.”

“How old was she back then?”

“Hmm... Was she even thirty back then? I got off that ship soon after, so I don’t know what happened later. But sixteen years aboard... That’s some real endurance she had.” He paused, calculating. “Come to think of it, when I count back the years, it lines up exactly. I’d just barely turned twenty myself.” His voice took on a rough nostalgia. “An era of grand ambitions, you know. Back then, I was holed up in the coal bunker, steadily studying English.”

“Then you weren’t in any position to talk about women yourself back then, were you?”

Man: "That’s right. So while other guys go on about this woman and that woman, naming them all, I never bothered to remember any of their names. But hers... somehow I still remember it... even now..."

Woman: "What was it?"

Man: "Wait..." (thinking) "Orui... Orui... That’s it. Definitely Orui."

“You say that—then go ahead and ask her.”

“What’s the point asking that? All that’ll happen is that woman finding out your husband used to be a stoker on the XX-maru.”

“It’s not like that anymore—isn’t it fine?”

“Indeed—the stoker climbed up to become a customs officer. That woman says she wanted to meet the old me—the stoker me. That’s right—from her perspective, having this me know about her past might be a bit unbearable. Since she hasn’t noticed, it’s best to keep quiet about it.”

“You never know where you’ll meet someone or who it might be.”

“To someone like you, that must seem like some twist of fate. Try wandering a limited patch of land for a quarter-century. Everywhere you go, you bump into people you’ve had some dealings with before. It’s just that more often than not, both sides don’t remember it.”

At this moment, Rui reappeared.

“What time would you prefer for your bath?” Rui inquired.

“Whenever you all have free hands will do,” the man replied.

“We exist precisely for such services,” Rui responded with formal humility.

“I see. Though paradoxically, that institutionalizes delay,” he remarked dryly. “We’ll handle arrangements ourselves—spare your efforts and retire.”

“We retire at ten-thirty...”

Madam Tsuchiya entered.

She went up to the second floor once and came back down again.
She went to the hall, fetched the bound newspapers, and placed them on the central chair.
While she was reading those newspapers, the wife of the couple whispered something to the man and went upstairs.

Kyōno returned from outside.
Madam looked up in that direction.

“Why don’t you come over here?” Kyōno said. “I’ve got something nice to show you…”

“Outside… Madam?”

“It’s the pavilion right out front.”

“What could it be…”

The two exited through the door to the outside.

In the room were only Rui and the man.
Occasionally, their gazes met.

A long time passed．

Man: “What sort of person is this Madam?”

Rui: “I hear Madam composes poetry．”
Rui: “Madam always goes out alone，but it seems her husband is employed in Tokyo．”

The man (picked up the newspaper Madam had left behind and began reading it)

“Will you be staying here for some time?”

Man: Well... I'll stay as long as I can.

Please take your time and relax...
“Before long, you’ll find matsutake mushrooms and wild herbs on the beach, and I hear the fishing grows quite enjoyable too.”

Man: What kind of fishing?

Squid, sir.

Man: Ah, squid.

Even within the same hotel chain, being stationed at a coastal establishment allows such conversations—I am truly delighted.
"The sea is splendid, isn't it?"
"Now, when I was aboard ships, it wasn’t like that, but once I come ashore, I find myself longing for the sea."
"And the sky seen from the sea is truly exceptional."
"As you well know, when I go out on the deck at night and look at the stars, I forget all the hardships of this world."
“Above all, under those stars, one cannot conceive of humans engaging in such ugly conflicts.”
“As I mentioned earlier to Madam Tsuchiya—even if there had been a man there who deceived me and betrayed me…”

At this moment, Madam Tsuchiya re-entered through the door with Kyōno.

“If that bird revives tomorrow, it’ll be my victory.”

“Ah… Very well,” Madam replied. “I want to let you win… I do…”
“Of course—for that bird’s sake.”

Kyono: “That’s likely.”
“Well then‚ goodnight.”
“Goodbye...”

Kyōno went up to the second floor alone.

Madam Tsuchiya sat in the chair from earlier.

“I’ve borrowed the newspaper,” said the man.

“That’s perfectly fine, Madam.”

“Madam,” Rui began, “I’ve been utterly beside myself today. Could it be because I chattered away like that earlier…? What is this? I can’t seem to calm this foreboding in my chest. And with me being this overweight—the doctor says one never knows when my heart might give out…”

"You should take care... It isn't good to dwell on things so intensely..."

"Yes, I am already well aware of that."
"That's why I don't think about anything at all these days."
"I avoid using my body as much as possible too."
"But even though they let me do only easy work like this, it's still not enough…"

Nine o'clock struck.
Rui removed the record.
She bowed respectfully to Madam and the man and prepared to leave.

The man watched her leave.

Madam watched the two of them intently.

The dining room lights went out.

“This hotel feels a bit like a hospital, don’t you think…”

Madam looked up at the man’s face, startled.

“Would you care for the newspaper?”

“No...”

Madam stood up.
Then, as she was, she began to climb the stairs.

The man opened the left door and went outside.

Before long, Rui appeared.
She turned the light switch.
The room grew dim.

At that moment, the man entered.

She was just about to lock the door.

She let out an "Ah"—a sound that was nothing more than a light apology.

The man crossed through the room as he was and ascended to the second floor.

She finished locking the door, then quietly—yet with exaggerated care—made a circuit around the room before finally disappearing into the right-hand hall.

With the sound of the waves—

Curtain.