Pathway to Japanese Literature

Her

Neighbor Woman

Tada

Him

Komori

Abe

An apartment in name only—a shabby rented room.
In the left corner stood a double bed.
To the right was a door that led to the kitchen area.
At the front sat an outdated Singer sewing machine.

Mid-March.
Around four in the afternoon.

She stopped the sewing machine， pressed the half-sewn robe to her chest with both hands， and stood before the mirror．

“Not bad at all．”
“Old curtains？ No one can tell！”

A knocking sound at the door.
She silently went to open it.
The neighbor woman entered while eating a banana.

“Staying in on such a lovely day?”

“You’re the strange one, being home at this hour…”

“But it’s still early, isn’t it? I just woke up a little while ago.”
“After I go to the bathhouse and trim my toenails or something, he’ll come pick me up.”
“Today—depending on how things go—it might be a drive to Kamakura.”

“I’m not jealous of that at all.”
“I’m going to the greengrocer’s to buy tomatoes.”
“Hey, does this look bad?”

“For everyday wear, that’s plenty.”

She threw the robe onto the bed, thrust her hand into the round can on the table, and slammed something onto the floor.
(Explosive sound.)

The neighbor woman—ah!—was startled.
"What... that?"

“Fret ball…”

“You’ve been making that thing go ‘bang bang’ for a while now, haven’t you? C’mon, let me try one too…”

“No way, you… This is a toy just for me and my husband—something only the two of us share. The resentment with nowhere to go—this blows it all away. That’s what makes it so refreshing!”

“That’s simple. When something gets on my nerves, I just cover myself with the futon and go to sleep. When I wake up, I’ve forgotten all about it. Hey, you—sorry to ask—but could you lend me the loofah cologne again?”

“It’s right there—take it,” she said.
(She pointed at the dressing table with her chin.)
“Oh! Still not making yourself clear,” retorted the neighbor woman.

As the neighbor woman left with the loofah cologne bottle，she headed into the kitchen area．
Before long，she emerged with knives in both hands，sharpening their blades in time to a martial tune，circled the entire room as if searching for something，then returned to the kitchen area just like that．
A knocking sound came at the door．

Her voice: “Who is it?”

Voice from outside: “I….”

“I don’t know any ‘I’.”

“It’s me.”
“Don’t you get it?”

“Mr. Tada, huh.”
“No matter how many times you come, it’s the same.”
“He still hasn’t come back.”

The door opens.
Tada appears.

Tada: That guy’s never around when you need him—what a pain.

She appeared with a scoff. “You’re at fault for coming when there’s nothing happening here.”
“You know he leaves every morning and comes back at night—that much you understand?”

“Sensei never shows up when needed,” Tada remarked idly.
“But currently he lacks employment.”

“Isn’t that precisely why he went job-hunting?” she countered sharply.

Tada settled into a chair and lifted the newspaper from the table. “Where did he go today?”

“Wherever he marked there,” she replied flatly.

“I see, this one looks promising,” Tada said. “‘Seeks young gentleman of steadfast principles?’”

“What are you laughing at?” she asked.

“I do have another idea in mind,” he replied, “but let’s keep this one for when that doesn’t work out.”

“Your so-called ideas are even less reliable than the newspaper ads.”

“That one from the other day—it was a failure.” Tada lowered his voice. “There was a condition about being single, and I ended up forgetting to mention it to Sensei.”

“If you lie like that, won’t it cause problems later? First of all, making single status a hiring condition is just wrong.”

“It’s like specifying ‘childless couples’ when renting out a house,” said Mr. Tada. “Just empty reassurance.”

“Want tea?” she asked abruptly.
“Not interested?”

“I’ll have some.”

“It’s cold.”
“Sugar?”
“Don’t need any?”

“I do.”

Tada: “I do.”

“Who knows if we even have that…”

She came out from the kitchen area carrying the tea things.
She poured.

“This is why the world doesn’t go the way you want it to.
If you’d just agree to work, there’d be employers lining up for you right away, you know.”

“I’ll go do some shopping for a bit, so stay right there, okay?”

Tada: “In the meantime, may I borrow the bed?
I’ve been walking non-stop since this morning—it’s unbearable.”

Her: “Don’t spout such nonsense!
If you’re that worn out, hurry home this instant.”

“Fine.”
“If you’re going to be nasty about it, I won’t even ask to borrow it.”
“What’s so special about that bed anyway?”
“Is our little Pierrot in this rented room really that sacred?”

“What a hassle, putting on socks…”
“If it’s shopping I can handle, I’ll go do it for you.”

“Really…?”
“Well then, I’ll leave it to you.”
“Tonight’s side dishes.”

“Huh?”

“Three thick-cut filets… and five medium-sized tomatoes…”
“And then—if there’s any decent bread, go ahead and get some.”

“Can’t be helped.”
(Stands up) “The money…?”

“Please handle it as you see fit…”
(Already disappearing into the kitchen area) “The butcher shop in front of the station’s better.”

Tada reluctantly headed outside.

Before long, she appeared while wiping the frying pan with paper, took another fret ball from the earlier can, and slammed it against the floor.

An explosive sound.

She remained like that, looking out the window.

Tears welled up.

A long time.

The door opened.
He returned.

Her (without turning around): “Oh, what’s wrong?”
“Did you forget your hat or something?”

He: “What are you doing there?”

Her (suddenly noticing his voice): “Welcome back.”
(As she said this, still holding the frying pan, she suddenly clung to her husband’s neck.)

He wondered what had happened.
“Had you been crying?”

Her: “Yeah, I did cry.”

“What were you sad about?”

Her: “Mrmblrmblrmbl…”
(She tried to laugh.)

“Hey, move.”
“Is dinner ready yet?”

“Was it no good?” she asked, pulling away.

“Forget about that. Just hurry up and feed me,” he snapped.

“Right now,” she replied.
“There—can’t you hear the gas?”
“You’re the one who said you wanted beef steak with hot rice. Here—let me take your coat off.”

After she removed his coat, he reached toward the table.
He grabbed three fret balls from the can and slammed them against the floor in quick succession.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Then he sank into the chair.

She placed her hand on his shoulder and whispered softly by his ear.
And she laughed.

“It’s because you let him do things like that—that’s why he gets all full of himself and keeps coming around even when there’s no reason.”

“But if it weren’t for that, tonight would’ve been nothing but tomatoes.”

“If you think we’re using them over here, soon enough they’ll be using us instead. You don’t know what he’ll demand in return for that beef steak.”

“He’s not that brazen of a man.”

“That’s precisely what’s wrong with it. There’s something dangerously unreliable about you. I can’t gauge where he’ll decide to stop.”

“But earlier, when I thought to have him watch the apartment while I went shopping, he asked if he could borrow our bed during that time.”

“So…?” he pressed.

“I refused because I didn’t like that sort of thing.”

“What did you say?”

“You should really stop calling me a fool…”

He clicked his tongue in frustration.

Seeing this, she immediately takes a fret ball from the can and hands it to him.
He slams it down.
Explosive sound.

“You don’t harbor any affection for that fellow, do you?”

“Affection…?”
“Only as your friend.”

“Even so...”

“To put it one way or another, he just rubs me the wrong way.”

“What about him…?”

“The way he says those things, and that strange look he gives me when he looks at me…”

“What kind of look…?”

“A look that can’t be put into words.”

“Alright.”
(His expression turned stern; she tried to hand him another fret ball, but he pushed her hand away.) “Then, out of all the guys who come to my place, who do you like the most?”
“If I say ‘like,’ it sounds bad—but who gives you the best impression?”

“There’s no one who gives a good impression.”

“How about Komori?”

“I can’t stand that type.”

“Why?”

“A man who puts on passionate airs over trivial things—I hate that.”

“Then what about Abe?”

“Him? I can’t stand that either.”

“Why?”

“He just parrots whatever someone else says right after they say it, doesn’t he?”

“Heh heh heh… Delightful, delightful… Here, hand me one.”

“I’ll do it for you.”
(She slammed down a fret ball.
Explosive sound.)

A knock on the door from times past.

“Please come in.”

Komori and Abe entered while exchanging glances.

Komori: “You’re back already?”

“I thought you hadn’t come back yet.”

“What do you want?”

Komori: “About your work, I’ve found a rather unusual opening.”
Abe: “It’s completely unusual.”
Him: “Just sit down already.”

“Have you already had your meal?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve just come from doing that over there.”

“What’s this about?”

Komori: “I’ve tried various avenues myself, you know…”
“After all, I know your nature—you can’t just take any old place.”
“Actually, I talked it over with this guy here and buttered up some rich man’s son.”

Abe: “‘Buttered up’ sounds funny—but yeah—we sure did.”

Komori: “So here’s the plan: We get them to cough up about two thousand yen in capital.”
“You and your wife open something like a café or bar.”
“Make it ultra-modern.”
“Just go with Madam’s style.”

“That’s right—Madam’s style,” said Abe. “It’s cheerful yet delicate in feel.”

“So you’ll put on a cheerful face,” Komori added, “and learn how to mix cocktails or something.”

Abe: “This is no big deal—clothes are important.”
Komori: “The profits would naturally cover store management and your living expenses—but first off, we could have special outfits made for Madam.”

Abe: “That’s right—clothes matter most. Western-style ones would be better, obviously…”

Komori: “Well? You can’t possibly object to this plan. You must throw yourself into it—we’ll cheer you on vigorously.”

Abe: “I wouldn’t take that particular angle myself. What about Madam? Any interest in this kind of work…?”

Komori: “Rather than employing a crowd of women—though it might mean more work—having Madam provide familial service alone would make the place far more popular.”

Abe: “First off, that approach would let you bring out a calm, quiet sort of distinctive feature.”

The door opened.

Tada returned carrying a package of beef and a bag of tomatoes.
“Thank you very much.”
“Well then, I’ll hear about your proposal later.”

(She entered the kitchen area.)

Tada: “What’s this about?”

Abe: “It’s a bit of a secret discussion.”

Komori: “It’s not exactly a secret, but we don’t want to announce it yet.”
Komori: “We’ll be counting on your support eventually.”

“This guy’s job?”

Komori: “Well… yeah, something like that.”
“I’m begging you—go home today.”
“With you here… it’s hard to talk properly.”

“In that case, I’ll present my proposal first.”
“Actually, I came here about that matter—but since you’re here, I’d like to hear your opinions as well.”
“There’s this opportunity I wanted to discuss—what do you think?”
“It’s about an old professor I was once indebted to, you see.”
“He’s retired now and devotes himself to writing—but besides an assistant, he’s looking for one more young person just to handle minor errands.”
“The conditions are that they don’t need specialized knowledge—just someone cheerful, quick-witted, and preferably familiar with life’s hardships.”
“The hours are from nine in the morning to four in the afternoon—lunch is provided there—and the monthly salary is thirty yen—so you see, it’s on par with an office job.”

Komori: “For a man…?”

Tada: “Of course it’s for a woman.”

Him: “What… a woman? That matter…”

Tada: “So we’ll find you something later—but this one here, I thought of Madam.”

“When did I ask you to involve my wife?”

“Even if you didn’t ask, I’d still worry that much.”

“That’s unnecessary concern,” he said.

She appeared holding a frying pan.

"I wasn’t listening to what you were just talking about."
"What are you saying I’ve done?"

Tada: (turning around) "Well, it’s just that…"

He (with contained anger): "Hey, cut it out with that look!"

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to hear that. Just go home already.”

“But…”

“If you can leave, then leave!”

“You’re more closed off than I expected.”
“Hey, you guys—what do you think?”
“This isn’t like other cases.”
“If they keep this up, it’s as clear as day they’ll end up starving...”
“Even Madam would be better off that way...”

“Shut up! ‘Madam this, Madam that’—you’ve got no business meddling in our affairs!”

Komori said, “We got the order backwards in our discussion.”

Abe added, “We should’ve stated that upfront.”

Tada retorted, “If you’re going to rage like this, I’ll leave. This isn’t a joke. Know your place! Know your own—”

Tada slunk out of the room.

Komori: “Now, now, don’t get worked up.”
“That guy came here meaning well.”
“But humans are emotional creatures.”
“His way of bringing it up was clumsy, no denying that.”
“So listen to what I have to say.”
“Be a man and say yes.”

Abe: “Even if it’s the same kindness, our proposal approaches it with respect for your feelings.”
“There’s nothing bad about it.”
“Say yes.”

He: “No.”

A long silence.

She began clearing the table.

Komori: “Can’t our sincerity get through to you?”

She brought in the dishes.

Abe: “We came here thinking it’d make you two happy, you know.”

She sat down opposite him, portioned the freshly cooked beef steak onto each plate, and served rice into the soup bowls.

“Well then, if you’ll excuse me, let’s have our meal.”

His two friends casually shifted their chairs.

“This knife cuts well,” she said.
“It’s fine—you can have two pieces if you want.”

Komori: “Seeing things like this, I’m absolutely determined to make you two happy.”
“I feel I could devote my entire life to that purpose.”

He should quit playing the impassioned philanthropist.

Abe: "Making these two happy would be a meaningful endeavor for friends."

He snapped: "Stop parroting what others say right after them."

Komori muttered: "This guy's really lost it today…"

Abe: “Certainly, he’s acting strange.”

She kept her cheeks stuffed with meat while suppressing the urge to laugh.

Komori: “At times like this, there’s no point in talking about anything.”
“Let’s go.”

Abe: “Let’s come back when he’s in a better mood.”

The two nodded to her and exited.

He threw down the knife and fork and watched their departure with displeasure.

She quickly brought the fret ball can and held it out to him.

He took one from inside and slammed it onto the floor.
An explosive sound.
He slammed it again.
An explosive sound.

“Why are you just sitting there silent after hearing all that?”
(He slammed it again.
Explosive sound.)

“What kind of talk…?”

“The talk about opening a bar.”

“I thought it was interesting and listened,” she said.
He slammed another fret ball. “What’s so _funny_!”

“Isn’t it funny!” she retorted, already reaching back into the can—then slammed it down with an explosive crash.

“Everyone out there is mocking me!”
(He slammed it down—an explosive sound.)

“That’s just your own resentment.”
“Why can’t I work?”
“I’ve been telling you this for days now.”
“Let’s go out and work together…”
“You’re the one who wouldn’t allow it.”
“Why?”
“Do you think letting a woman earn money makes a man lose face?”
“That’s ridiculous!”

“I don’t want you working for me.”
“Being poor hurts—but being fed by you hurts worse.”

“No one’s trying to feed you,” she said. “Each person just feeds themselves. If that’s too much for you, I’ll let you feed me first—then use my own earned money to indulge however I want.”

“I won’t allow that luxury unless I’m the one granting it,” he retorted.

“I’d prefer it that way too.” She tilted her head. “What’s with that squinty face? It’s just the sunset hitting your eyes.” She reached for his shoulders. “Turn more this way.” Her hands twisted him toward herself.

“I don’t have a single friend.”
“They’re all your friends.”

“Oh—changed the subject again?”

He: “They only want to show kindness to you.”

She (handing over the fret balls): “Here.”

He: “We’re cutting ties.”
(He slammed it down.
Explosive sound.)

She (slamming it down in response): “Of course.” (Explosive sound.)

“Are you planning to collapse into that drunkard’s lap…?
How could I ever let that happen?”
(He slammed it down.
Explosive sound.)

“Ah—is that what you mean?”
“So you’re saying it’s about making clothes for him?”
“Who would ever do such a thing?!”
(She slammed it down—an explosive sound.)

“Just one more push—bear with it.”
“My way of loving must have its flaws.”
“When you can no longer endure those flaws, I’ll be nothing but useless to you.”

Her (clinging to him from behind): “It’s okay.”
“It’s okay.”

Was he okay?
He really was all right.

At this moment, the neighbor woman quietly opened the door.

“Oh, excuse me.”
“I used up all of this, but I’ll return it anyway.”

She accepted the empty loofah cologne bottle and closed the door.

He noticed how that woman was awfully dressed up.

“You don’t need to look at that sort of thing.”

“It’s not like I’m looking.
But I should show more restraint around you.”

“Stop with these silly worries.
I’ll do this, so…”
(She slammed down a fret ball.
(Explosive sound.)

He really was.
Why can’t I muster even this petty restraint?
I’m even pissing myself off.
“Hey—hand it over.
There’s none left?”
“What—it’s empty.”
“Ugh—damn it—why’s there nothing left…?”

“Do we have any more left?”
“You want more?”
“Fret balls…?”
“But… but they’re all gone now.”
“Then… then… (looking around) Wait a moment…”
“This?”
(holding out the empty loofah cologne bottle) “Huh? This?… This won’t work…”

He took the loofah cologne bottle, raised it as if to hurl, then suddenly slumped into his chair. “What’s the point… Even if I throw this… It’s useless…”

She suddenly buried her face in his chest and stifled her sobs.

――Curtain――