Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

“You really must do something about this—I’ll be in trouble otherwise. I absolutely have to go to Kanda tomorrow, you understand?”

The mother pressed Tani with his half-hearted responses. But Itsuko, listening from the next room, understood all too well that she wasn’t actually counting on him to follow through.
And when she thought that she would have to undertake the arduous task of securing funds yet again, she was crushed by an indescribably unpleasant feeling.
But she couldn’t possibly feign ignorance by saying she hated it.
She had to find a way somehow.
Yet even for Itsuko, who had been enduring hardship month after month, barely scraping together the fixed minimum funds needed for essentials, the only certainty for securing even a meager five yen lay in rushing to Ryuichi’s place as always—there was simply no alternative.
And truth be told, given how frequently this happened, even Itsuko found it difficult to keep going to Ryuichi’s place so often. But when it came down to absolute necessity, there was simply no other way—she had no choice but to go there again.

“It’s not like it absolutely has to be tomorrow, right? If it’s Kanda—”

Tani responded in his usual lackluster tone.

“You can’t just spout such carefree nonsense—it’s outrageous!”
“Wasn’t I supposed to have gone there days ago? It keeps getting postponed!”
“I’ve resolved to go without fail tomorrow.”

“Even if you resolved to go, Mother, that’s your own affair—I know nothing of such plans.”
“Don’t you need money to go?”

“Of course that’s how it is!”

“Even I don’t have any prospects lined up—I can’t say for sure whether I’ll manage it.”

“That’s a problem, isn’t it? I only ask occasionally! You could at least manage something—haven’t I been pleading with you this whole time?”

“If I can do it, I will. But there’s no need to make such a fuss about going to Kanda—it’s not like you’ve got important business there. You’re just going out for fun—”

“It’s because you think like that that you keep giving half-hearted answers.”
“Who would deliberately go out feeling self-conscious just for fun?”
“No matter how far I’ve fallen, I refuse to neglect obligations to people we’ve known for years—wouldn’t it be your disgrace first and foremost?”

“I don’t care one bit if it brings shame or whatever else happens.”
“Mother, why don’t you finally quit all that nonsensical socializing?”

“That’s none of your business! Do you think I’d ever take orders from you on such matters? Instead of that, you should try thinking a bit about your own affairs. Honestly, what is this? You’ve caused your parent endless hardship, and even as a grown adult, you don’t know how to ease their burden—yet you still have the nerve to act so self-important! Tormenting your parent isn’t your only talent—it’s also embarrassing to society that you keep lazing around forever. Because of you, wherever I go, I have to shrink from shame. I don’t know what you’re thinking—do you really not care what happens to your parent? Do you know what Mother says about you wherever she goes? I endure this bitter frustration thinking things might improve eventually—but if you keep lounging around carefree forever, my social standing will be ruined. Just think carefully—if those worthless people start saying this and that about you, even *you* can’t just let it slide. I didn’t raise some spineless coward.”

“Even if you didn't birth me this way, Mother, this is who I am. There's no need to mind every little thing those worthless folks say.”

“Isn't it maddening when those nobodies keep blathering about things they shouldn't even mention? You might brush it off, but I can't stomach it!”

“You still don't get it, do you? If ignorant trash spouts nonsense they've no business saying—why bother what comes out of their mouths? What's there to get worked up about? Just go handle your business without acknowledging them. That's exactly why I'm telling you to stop mingling with that riffraff.”

“Haven’t I told you that you and I are different? You can go settle things however you please—I won’t have it.”

“Then do as you please!”

“Oh, I certainly will.”
“So make sure I can hold my head high.”

“As if I’d know!”

“I won’t let you claim ignorance.”
“How can you say such a thing!”
“Wasn’t it you who made me shrink from shame?”

“Stop joking around—this isn’t funny.”
“If only Mother would quit her foolish antics, we could manage without any hardships.”
“If I were normal, wouldn’t you say it’s Mother’s recklessness that made me waste ten years of my prime studying?!”
“Hasn’t Mother been acting selfishly since her youth?”
“Even I can’t keep going unless I get some freedom now and then.”
“No matter what those people say—I’d rather go hungry than bow to some wretch for pocket change. So get used to living like this.”
“If you want comfort, don’t count on me at all.”

“What a preposterous attitude! Even if you intend to settle things that way, society won’t accept it.”
“You tell me not to rely on you—then who am I supposed to rely on?”
“It’s not just me.”
“You have a child too! How do you expect a child to grow up? What do you plan to do if you can’t take care of your parent or child?”
“Do you think you can idle through life with empty pockets? With that attitude, everyone knows what misery awaits you.”
“What absolute nonsense!”
“How many years do you think this old body has left?”
“Clutching at straws that might snap tomorrow—how dare you say not to rely on you!”
“That’s no different from telling me to drop dead!”
“If dying’s what you want, I’ll die right now—but what do you think I’ve suffered all these years for?!”
“You’d better think hard about whether such words should leave your mouth.”

As if declaring he would no longer engage, Tani remained silent without answering.
The mother’s initially forceful words gradually took on a complaining tone until eventually they dissolved into a tearful quiver that could no longer be heard.

Itsuko listened in silence.
The mother’s complaints struck Itsuko’s heart more sharply than they did Tani’s—even though he sat right before her across the narrow space between them.
These grievances repeated at every such opportunity had always followed the same script.
But precisely because of their sameness, Itsuko found them unbearable to hear.
Moreover, since these very complaints usually sparked the family’s cold mutual glares, she had always strived to prevent her mother from voicing such resentments.
To achieve this, she needed to minimize any cause for dissatisfaction in every matter.
Such dissatisfaction could usually be appeased with trifling amounts of pocket money.
Yet even this simple solution had become excruciating for present-day Itsuko.

"Oh... Do I really have to go again?"

For Itsuko, enduring her mother's complaints was unbearable enough, but having to constantly visit Ryuichi's place—counting on him to infer her needs and provide money even when she stayed silent there—proved just as tormenting.

II

Two years had already passed since Tani lost his job.
Over that period, all the gradually worsening burdens within the household naturally came to rest upon Itsuko.

At first, even though the mother—far more reasonable than other elderly neighbors—had not particularly minded this arrangement, as their destitution deepened beyond bearing, she too began voicing bitter complaints from time to time. Each time Itsuko heard them, she felt an indescribable ache yet never once considered them unjustified.
Yet when Itsuko saw Tani—more self-absorbed than most—striving to break free from the profession that had oppressed him for nearly ten years since his early twenties and forge his own path anew, she could not bring herself to beg him for conventional employment merely because they struggled. Instead she persisted in enduring hardships, resolved to wait until he could establish his vocational direction himself.

That being said, Itsuko certainly had no job good enough to sustain the household’s finances. She had been revealing the family’s dire circumstances—kept hidden from almost everyone—to Ryuichi and receiving considerable support from him each time they faced hardship. But even for Itsuko, continuing to complacently rely on his support indefinitely was far too shameful a matter. She wanted to somehow avoid receiving Ryuichi’s assistance. Moreover, when she considered that even Ryuichi’s thoughtful kindness was aided by the benevolence of her deceased former teacher, using it as trivial stopgap compensation became all the more agonizing.

But even the occasional small manuscript fees from her writings were of no help at all. Even so, once they knew that even a little money could be made this way, the family members grew utterly indifferent to everything else and pinned all their hopes on that alone. For Itsuko, she still didn’t realize just how terrifying this reliance was. Her own writings—immature, childish things—the very thought of converting them into money felt terrifyingly futile. No matter what happens, I don’t want to do such a thing. Yet even as she thought this, the family kept counting on it; and when she herself considered that if she tried to earn money independently, there was no other way but this, Itsuko felt a sadness that left her utterly powerless. And so she wanted to find some method of earning money—perhaps teach typing, or become a magazine reporter—and turned these possibilities over in her mind. But each of those options came with unavoidable inconveniences that Itsuko, in her current state, simply couldn’t afford to overlook.

At times, even Itsuko would find herself completely at a loss, faced with situations she could do nothing about.

“This time, I truly can’t manage it anymore—you have to do something. If you don’t arrange things somehow, we’ll be in real trouble.”

“Hmm.”

Once he said that, he remained composed as always.

“What do you plan to do?”

When she pressed him as her distress grew increasingly severe,

“There’s just no way around it.”

Having said that, he remained composed.
Thinking This time for sure—this time for sure—yet yielding to his carefree attitude, as mother and Itsuko, they kept forcing themselves to endure alongside him time and again.

Even so, Itsuko could not bring herself to vehemently pressure him to find employment.
He had no intention of returning to his former job even once more, and Itsuko—when she considered how that work had subjected him to various constraints and favoritism that tormented him most—could not bring herself to suggest it. That said, he possessed only some linguistic aptitude and had no other useful skills whatsoever.
Moreover, he had many traits that rendered him incapable of working with others.
Even the translation work he occasionally obtained—if the content didn’t interest him—he would immediately complain of the agony. That said, the kinds of things he found engaging never earned a single yen.
Even Itsuko—who wanted to avoid making him work unreasonably hard by sympathizing with most matters—would sometimes find his attitude appearing lazy.
When Itsuko saw her mother’s gentle yet haggard face—how she noticed Itsuko’s strained efforts and spoke with consoling expressions—she thought: Because Tani acts this way, Mother must often restrain herself from things she could otherwise avoid doing toward both me and others. Then Itsuko began suspecting her own sympathy and defense of Tani were merely a shallow pretense—directed at herself and their love—and that this mistaken attitude might instead torment not just others but even herself.
For two years now, even as she observed him like this, he himself showed no sign of deeply contemplating the future in any meaningful way, nor did he seem particularly moved by everyone’s present suffering—to the point that even Itsuko had begun suspecting what exactly he was thinking.
But she also understood well that forcing him from outside would be futile until he himself settled on a course of action—in the end,

No matter how much I stayed silent, he must surely have understood how much I was overexerting myself—he wouldn't keep on like this forever.
There was nothing to be done until his feelings moved of their own accord.

Thinking this way, she remained silent.
Yet lately, he had begun appearing unable to manage even his own body—and regarding how much he was truly supporting her situation, even she, who tried not to pry too deeply, found herself growing concerned.
Finally seizing an opportunity, she asked.

“Hey, what on earth do you plan to do from now on? Have you settled on something you intend to do?”

“Well… What I should actually do hasn’t really been settled yet. If I try to do anything, I’d have to start over completely from scratch… So I don’t even know what’s best. As for me, literature’s completely out of reach—maybe I could do music… but even that wouldn’t put food on the table. To tell the truth, I’d like to wander alone playing the shakuhachi. Back when I should’ve been thinking about such things—the crucial age for that—I was too busy just trying to eat. Now that I look back on it, it all seems so damn foolish. Well… just let me think a bit longer.”

When he said that, Itsuko felt a helplessness so profound it left her utterly adrift.
Neither he nor I were yet full-fledged adults; even the path we walked had not been settled.
We couldn’t even eat properly.
Yet here I was, dragging along a child and being clung to by an elderly mother—how were we supposed to keep wandering like this?
How much more would we have to make Mother suffer—how much more would we ourselves have to suffer—from here on out?
As she pondered deeper, tears seeped from Itsuko’s eyes at the thought of that future misery.

"This can’t go on."
"I have to do something."

Such vague yet impatient anxiety pressed in from both behind and head-on.

III

While watching Tani’s retreating figure leave casually without a word, Itsuko wavered over whether to visit Ryuichi’s place again.
She knew perfectly well that the funds her mother insisted on securing weren’t truly essential.
The money was required for her mother’s routine trip to Kanda—to spend four or five leisurely days at an acquaintance’s home—needing funds for a modest gift, spending money, and token gratuities for servants.
Whenever Itsuko imagined facing even harsher necessities than this in the future, she wished desperately to avoid the humiliation of approaching Ryuichi.
Yet if her mother failed to depart tomorrow as planned, Itsuko would endure another round of petty grievances and cutting remarks—a prospect equally unbearable.
She briefly entertained hope that Tani might provide somehow, but recognized this as wishful thinking born of her own aversion to discomfort; she knew full well his aimless outings weren’t for their sake.
Beside the brooding Itsuko, her soundly sleeping child awoke and beamed at her cheerfully.
At the sight of that face, Itsuko instantly abandoned her worries and gathered the child into her arms.
The infant latched onto her breast without pause, sucking with urgent concentration.
Cradling the plump little body loosely in her lap—content with its warmth and solid weight—she absently stroked the child’s forehead while finally looking outside.

Without thinking anything particular, the sky—lofty, refreshing, and perfectly clear—first appeared pleasant to Itsuko's vacant eyes.
Beneath that high, deep blue sky—cut low by the roof and plank fence of the house directly in front—the whitish laundry, still not fully rid of moisture, swayed in the quiet wind.
The small ginkgo tree in the corner of the garden had also, unnoticed, turned beautifully colorful.
Sitting motionless, she felt as if she might hear the resounding cry of a shrike overhead in the pleasantly parched sky.
Itsuko found herself unable to forget the autumn air—exceptionally clear—of the suburbs where she had lived just two or three months prior.
At the same time, when she thought of how she could no longer take walks unburdened, a faint loneliness seemed to linger in her heart.

"Before I knew it—through my own carelessness—I had become shut away inside this thing they call a household."
"I no longer have the freedom to exist solely as myself."

When she thought this, Itsuko felt an odd mixture of frustration and bewilderment at how effortlessly she had been pulled into these circumstances.
And suddenly, within her dazed mind, various thoughts began to swarm out like clouds.

“I wasn’t supposed to live this kind of life.”

She had thought that over and over again.
But the fact remained undeniable—while she’d been careless, she’d been pushed to that very point.
“What could I possibly do about that fact now, even if I were to regret it?”
And she thought.

Itsuko was fully aware of how deeply her current life filled her with regret.
Yet she tried as hard as possible not to consider where exactly this life had gone wrong.
Though part of her clear consciousness insisted she must examine this, another subconscious layer persistently blocked contemplation of her present circumstances.
What rooted itself in that subconscious and worked most forcefully was a dread that such examination would breed despair toward her current existence—and ultimately destroy it.
If true despair over her life were to overwhelm her, what wretched state might she fall into? And what threatened her with equal ferocity was a stubborn refusal—the fear that the pride she'd maintained in this life until now would be torn from its very foundations.
This same force shattered even her staunch confidence in the efforts that had secured the love guiding her into this present life.

For her, the first time the unexpected burden of what is called marriage pressed upon her was when she was seventeen and still in school.
The many realities of what is called marriage were something she had vaguely observed until then.
She also knew that school education was conducted for that preparation.
However, she had believed—as she had been taught since childhood—that she alone was different from others: she was studying not to become a woman devoted to domestic life, but to acquire the knowledge necessary to work as a full-fledged person.
Her thirst for knowledge and her yearning for it had continued without end.
And so she had dreamed of the day when she would become a full-fledged person and be completely free.
Despite that, she had unexpectedly collided with the problem called marriage.
Moreover, to the extent that those around Itsuko sought to exploit it, the situation was disadvantageous to her.
Itsuko had refused to listen from the very beginning.
Yet the arrangement had been nearly coercively settled.
Simultaneously, days plagued by nightmares had continued for her.
She could not endure that marriage would cause all her long-held dreams to vanish, forcing her to spend her entire life in trivial constraints.
If she entered married life, she would have to abandon everything as it was—the various desires of her own had assailed her with all their might.
And she, unable to overcome them, had fled from there.
In that situation, she had had no time to consider how much trouble, humiliation, or pain those involved would suffer from her breaking that promise.
She had relied solely on her confidence that she was not causing trouble to everyone from any base motives.
Moreover, she had reasoned that even if she were now causing some incremental trouble or pain to the many people around her, if only they had allowed her a little more freedom, such blame would not need to be borne—and therefore, in this situation, their suffering was only natural.
At the same time, she alone could clearly see a future in which she would atone for all of it.

What had made Itsuko so courageous as to escape that place were not only the various reasons tormenting her but also another force that fanned her passion—something she herself had not initially noticed.
That force was Tani and her love.
At first imperceptible to her awareness, in the end it had seized everything she possessed.
If one were to call it natural, it had unfolded in an utterly natural manner.
Yet precisely this naturalness could also be said to contain negligence.
Moreover, that negligence too had sprung from her still being completely ignorant of all things.

Tani was initially one of the few people who took an interest in the dreams she held for the future.
He was one who understood her desperate feelings as she strove single-mindedly to advance along her own path.
And he supported her first struggle.
Itsuko approached him without ulterior motives.
After she escaped from her parents’ home, everyone around her—as far as he knew—who tried their utmost to perplex her and send her back stirred his intense resentment.
In time, he clashed with his employer seeking to keep Itsuko from him.
He seized that chance to free himself from the job that had bound him so long.
For a while afterward, he truly wore a relieved expression.
Yet destitution loomed over his family.
He had a mother and younger siblings.
But none voiced complaints about his decisions.
No doubt their consideration for Itsuko living among them contributed to this silence.

When she thought of that, Itsuko was pained.
She resolved to at least try being of whatever help she could to this family.
Entering into truly close dealings with his family—this had become her motive.
And from that time onward, her interactions with Tani too rose clearly into her awareness.

Her reconciliation with her parents did not come easily.
In the end, she once again returned to her hometown to personally settle matters.
Even after prolonged anguish, no resolution came.
Countless times she contemplated dying in despair or submitting to her parents' will.
The recent strife between her and her parents had inflicted torment akin to having her flesh pared away slice by slice.
Yet what enabled her escape was being saved by her already awakened passion for Tani.
Simultaneously, extreme individualistic notions—seeping unconditionally into her unknowing mind—granted forceful validation to her actions.

From the time she had once again escaped her parents’ home and rushed to Tani’s side, the two had been in a truly inseparable relationship. And to Itsuko, how immense must that love have seemed—the love that had rescued her from that bitter struggle? "The great force that made me overcome that suffering and guided me to the right path!" This alone was what she marveled at in their love. That marvel became boundless fascination and enthralled her. Because of it, she had to endure many losses. Yet a few material sacrifices were hardly worth considering. She thought only of the joy like stepping into unknown worlds—gaining even fragmentary knowledge through her cherished books.

IV

The destitution of the Tani family grew increasingly severe.
At the same time, those troubles now bore down relentlessly upon Itsuko too, who had unwittingly come to be treated as an unreserved family member.
If indeed Tani's voluntary job loss stemmed entirely from motives tied to Itsuko, she could not possibly remain indifferent to the family's suffering—and soon enough, even cursed words began being obliquely cast her way.
For the first time, Itsuko came to feel a completely different kind of dark sadness than she had ever known.
In such moments of loneliness, she would find herself squatting alone on dark, deserted country paths, recalling her parents' home left far behind.
In her anguish, she wondered why their relationship couldn't remain just between them—why being trapped in this situation hurt so much that she considered leaving the house alone.
Yet abandoning the suffering family seemed heartless and shameful, while living apart from Tani even temporarily felt unbearable—she couldn't muster courage for such action.
In reality, these unpleasant episodes didn't persist daily but arose occasionally from triggers; on ordinary days, she lived far more happily and carefree than ever before.

Before long, she gave birth to a child with absolutely no preparation.
Even before that event, she had many things she needed to consider.
Yet regarding this immense reality now thrust before her eyes, she knew only to proceed by acknowledging each aspect through simple resignation.
No matter what unexpected irregularities or troubles arose, she could do nothing but accept them as manifestations of an invisible, overwhelming force beyond resistance.
She had completely lost the acuity she'd wielded during her initial clash with her parents.
Or perhaps she'd never truly possessed such clarity from the start.
For what had made her seem astute—or given that illusion—was merely how defending her own interests against her parents' had coincidentally inflamed her passion more intensely.
Thus it seemed only natural that the relief and pride following that conflict would drag her back to her former state.
Yet she never realized she'd regressed there again.
From then on, she believed herself advancing steadily along her chosen path—at least in how she perceived and reasoned about things.
But this had been mistaken.
That very complacency plunged Itsuko into depths from which escape seemed impossible.
The conviction that 'the first step wasn't wrong'—maintained without proper examination or thought—which made her blindly believe nothing remained erroneous, became Itsuko's great curse.
Having drifted through what should have been carefully considered steps, pulled thoughtlessly along, was what forced her into this dire strait.

But even so, Itsuko could not rely solely on that confidence. Considering the immediate constraints and various facts before her eyes, the numerous points where logic didn't align—which kept arising—were a constant source of unease for her. And the more acutely she felt her own limitations, the greater her anxiety grew. When her deep pondering reached the point of having to clearly identify these sources of disquiet in her current life, she would inevitably abandon those thoughts altogether. And so she remained trapped in endless circles of contemplation, wandering lost through the same mental pathways forever.

While she was aware there was some error in their current life—and that she couldn’t escape it—the primary reason lay in her unchanged love for Tani; even if she left family life to flee their constraints, Itsuko clearly understood she couldn’t ultimately separate from him.
However, as long as she couldn’t sever her relationship with him, she also couldn’t ignore being unable to cleanly cut off indirect connections through him.
That even temporary distancing wouldn’t last became clear—both due to his presence and because their child formed a new bond she couldn’t easily abandon, just as he couldn’t relinquish his familial obligations.
If so, remaining attached to him and their child made escape utterly impossible—but when considering abandoning them both for freedom’s sake, the problem only grew larger.

Itsuko had often thought that far before.
And once she had come this far, her thoughts could proceed relatively correctly.
In her reasoned perspective, it was deemed nearly unavoidable—almost axiomatic—that parting from him or from the child would constitute an obstacle on the path she truly ought to take.
Yet whether she could act upon this would be decided by her conviction in what constituted that true path.
Conviction—this too had been one arduous matter to contemplate.

However, in the end, as long as she maintained as carefree a mood as possible—avoiding unpleasant thoughts—once night fell, there was no need to force herself to think through such troublesome matters. From some trigger, while earnestly pondering such matters, time passed rapidly. And when day turned to night and dawn broke, the constraints, complaints, and dissatisfaction she had felt so acutely earlier—or perhaps yesterday—no longer loomed so close there. Her thoughts came to a halt there. And when complaints reared their heads again, she would start rethinking everything from the beginning. In this way, in the end, unable to do anything, she had been dragged along as if being dragged. Moreover, even when she occasionally reflected on her own spineless attitude, she could only roughly resign herself to it along with all the contradictions and absurdities that lay beyond her power.

V

When she received the money he provided—as instructed, without showing any displeasure—Itsuko felt relieved.
Yet each time she received money this way, reflecting on her own attitude—growing servile as she found herself unable to properly face Ryuichi while nursing constricting one-sided feelings—an indescribable discomfort tightened around her chest.
Even though I’d stubbornly argued with my parents to that extent, it hadn’t been for the sake of living this kind of life.
I had truly intended to study hard and walk a slightly different path from ordinary women obedient to their parents—to show them what I could do.
If I had to live this kind of life, then perhaps there had been no need to endure such hardship in defying my parents.
If this situation were to become known back in my hometown—how much criticism would I receive?
Itsuko’s heart grew heavier and heavier.

“How about it—have you managed to find any time to study?”

Ryuichi moved his heavy lips and asked.

“It’s no use.”
“I’m chased around by tasks all day—I keep thinking there’s no way to manage this, but—”

“I understand having a child makes it difficult, but unlike others, you must find a way to keep studying. For childcare and housework—try arranging to have others handle them as much as possible.”

“Yes…”

Even giving that reply filled Itsuko with sorrow.
There wasn’t a single thing in the house that didn’t demand her attention. Even without that burden, if someone were to help with one or two chores, having to feel indebted for every little thing meant that even the scant time she gained proved utterly useless—so vexing and unpleasant it became.
Even now, coming here on this distasteful errand for her mother, she could never relax into composure—down to the intricate emotional undercurrents among the household members—these were matters she could hardly reveal to outsiders.
That Ryuichi would thus give money without hesitation—no particular reason needed—was solely because he wanted to make her appear even slightly freer before those who seemed to think she alone wallowed in distress.
But in that regard, it had borne no fruit.
For through the household’s eyes, no matter how Itsuko suffered, relieving their destitution remained her natural duty.
There existed no reason to feel gratitude for her suffering.
Though Itsuko’s torment had been unavoidable, they refused to acknowledge any justification for their own hardships. Yet Itsuko could not bring herself to lay this bare before Ryuichi.
But nothing tortured her more than being reminded—each time they met without discussing aught else—solely of his concern that she might become wholly swallowed by domestic life as it stood.
He had never once uttered reproach toward her actions.
He had always watched in silence.
Because of this, even Itsuko could not maintain half-heartedness toward him.

When Ryuichi saw Itsuko’s dejected appearance, he felt pity and with that changed the subject.
But before long, the conversation would drift back to where it had started.

“It would be good if Mr. Tani found work soon. Then things might get a bit easier.”
“After all, if they have to keep worrying about daily meals like this, they’ll hardly be able to settle down at all.”

“Yes, if this could relieve their worries, it would make a world of difference. But he can’t be counted on for when that might happen… I too must think of something better—I keep telling myself that.”

She felt an increasingly constricting pain, as though her own existence were narrowing the longer she continued such conversations with Ryuichi, so she resolutely bid farewell and returned home.

“You’re being far too carefree. Going on an errand isn’t the same as going out for fun.”

“You leave the child with others and go out, yet if you keep settling yourself elsewhere forever, it’s a great nuisance for those who took them in! If they were a bit older, we could manage somehow, but now even a short time with others won’t do—so keep that in mind.”

With great effort, even going to collect the money was unpleasant enough just for having to see her mother’s displeased face—and then, after somehow managing to bring it back, being suddenly confronted with such words before she even sat down filled Itsuko with an indescribable mix of frustration and anger that defied all justification.
After all, it was perfectly clear from the start that going out would take an hour or two—and under certain circumstances, one might have expected it to take even longer. Even she herself couldn’t settle down for a moment while out, so much so that she even thought: if this was how it would be, she shouldn’t have gone at all, even if it meant enduring some displeasure.
She, not wanting to hear any more unpleasant words, curtly—

“Sorry.”

Having said that, she picked up the child and entered the next room.
However, as her mother’s disposition showed no sign of softening, venomous remarks—the kind that made one want to cover their ears—came chasing after her.
At last, Itsuko too could bear it no longer and spoke.

“Just going there and coming back takes at least two hours.”
“Even when I go out for errands, I don’t just idly waste time like some carefree person.”
“Even if you ask me, I can’t stay calm at all.”
“I can’t just not go thinking delays of an hour or two due to errand circumstances are normal.”
“Every time I go out on an errand, being nagged at every little thing and snapped at is unbearable—it’s not like I go out because I want to, you know.”

“Of course I wouldn’t go out if I didn’t have to.”

Itsuko fell silent without another word.
While steadfastly suppressing the flood of words she had long endured wanting to say, she held her child, who suckled obliviously at her breast,

"Why should I give them money after being told such things?"

Thinking this over and over, she looked at the wallet on the desk. Inside was three to four times the amount needed by the mother. At any rate, until just moments ago—no matter how unpleasant her feelings had been regarding that money—now that she thought of it as funds she could freely use, she somehow felt like casting a sarcastic sneer at the mother who kept relentlessly hurling harsh words.

Say whatever you want. If I say that much, they surely won’t dare ask for money.

Itsuko's spiteful thoughts swelled from one thought to the next until she wondered: Should she finally voice what she wanted to say and use this money to take a trip somewhere? Or should she simply leave this suffocating household altogether?
Such were the thoughts that occupied Itsuko.

As she apathetically continued these musings in the adjoining room, the mother had fallen silent at some point.
Tani had left in the morning and did not return until well past dinner.
Mother and Itsuko both maintained a venomous silence, endlessly exchanging unpleasant glares across the room.

When night fell, Itsuko put the child to bed early, then sat down at her desk and opened the book she had half-read four or five days prior and left untouched since. As she sat down, her harsh feelings strangely faded away, and she eased into a relaxed state, feeling for the first time in ages the pleasure of being able to immerse herself in her book.

Six

It was quite late when Tani returned home in a daze.
When he noticed, his mother was still in the living room, apparently waiting for his return.
Itsuko merely glanced at his face as he returned before feigning ignorance and lowering her eyes back to her book.
He briskly entered the living room.

“Where have you been all this time?”

“Here and there.”

“Well? Did you manage to get the money?”

“No luck.”

“This won’t do! Why must you always be this way?”
“Have you no backbone at all? It’s not even that large a sum!”

“I’ll handle it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow will be too late!”

“Then there’s nothing to be done.”

“‘Nothing to be done’ won’t suffice! I pressed you thoroughly this morning—no one’s as undependable as you!”

“But no matter how much you press me, if it’s not going to be in time, there’s nothing to be done. Just give me a cup of tea instead.”

“You can shrug it off, but *I’m* the one left in a bind! How long will you keep lazing about without a shred of resolve? No wonder even *he*—no, *everyone*—lets this house fall into chaos! At your age, to be mocked by your own wife—all because you refuse to take charge! You might think it’s fine to stay carefree so long as *you’re* comfortable, but this simply won’t do!”

The mother tried to lay out before Tani every grievance she had been accumulating alone for so long.
But it differed not at all from this morning's exhaustive litany of complaints.
Yet eventually—no matter what or how she spoke—the mother found no response in Tani's impassive face or his ambiguous attitude that left unclear whether he even listened. Shifting from muttered soliloquy to tearful voice, she finally fell silent.
Though Itsuko thought she didn't want to hear those same worn-out grievances, once caught by her ears she found her attention—once diverted—refusing to return to her book.
Yet Itsuko's tightly closed feelings from earlier remained unopened as she listened coldly from afar to the next room's conversation.
Deep within her heart's recesses bloomed a smile whispering *serves you right*.

The next morning too, each wore as unpleasant an expression as possible to hide their cold feelings.
After finishing the morning chores, Itsuko sat at her desk and began reading while tending to her child, all the while wondering at how utterly relaxed and at ease she felt—a stark contrast to her interactions with others.
The child, having grown dissatisfied with the mother who had become engrossed in her book unawares, headed toward the tearoom.

“What a good boy you are, staying so quiet! And what’s Mama doing? Reading again? What a hopeless caretaker! A mother with a child sitting at her desk reading all afternoon—how outrageous! Tell her, Boy—tell her the chores will keep piling up endlessly if she keeps this up!”
“She’s far too carefree!”

Itsuko remained stubbornly at her desk, indifferent to the remarks.
Her feelings had become completely twisted.
Tani, who had woken up late and risen, had no sooner finished his meal than he was hurriedly made to come over; after squatting on the veranda for a while, he turned toward Itsuko.

“Can’t you manage something on your end?”

he asked with as calm a face as possible.

“No, that won’t do. You’re just trying to push it onto others again. For once, handle it yourself without relying on others—this is too much.”

Itsuko snorted coldly and declared in a voice loud enough to reach the next room.

*What a spineless man he is.*

When such thoughts surfaced abruptly—without preamble—following that sudden surge of emotion, her attention had already drifted from the book before her.
Unable to endure the resentment welling from her heart’s depths, she closed the book and became filled with a restlessness that made staying home even a moment longer unbearable.
After tightening her obi and rising with the child in her arms, she briskly walked to the entrance—only to reconsider, take out her wallet, leave the child waiting there, place several bills on the desk, and depart without looking back.

Itsuko and the child returned home exhausted after playing to their heart’s content at the botanical garden as dusk approached.
As expected, the mother was nowhere to be seen.
Tani stood rooted in the garden with a gloomy face.
When she saw that, Itsuko’s feelings suddenly sank as if being dragged into darkness.

*Ugh, how pointless!*

Itsuko felt such unbearable frustration—a desire to cast everything aside—that she grew frantic with impatience.
She vented her directionless emotions even on the child—haphazardly lashing out—only to immediately afterward feel pitiful and nearly start crying together with him. Then, once dinner ended, she sat listlessly with the exhausted child until, at some point, she fell asleep.

After two hours had passed, Itsuko awoke from her sleep. The surroundings were still. As she felt an ease as if her own time had finally come, Itsuko—having half-risen—stretched her body leisurely again, fixed her gaze nowhere in particular, and drifted without a single thought. However, as the daytime unpleasantness began to rise from the corners of her still-groggy face, Itsuko sat upright just like that. Adjusting her kimono collar while resolving not to dwell on yesterday’s affairs any longer, she entered the tearoom, drank tea, fixed her loosening hairpin, and finally settled at her desk. She opened the book left facedown during the day and began reading, but her weary mind—already slackened by sleep—could no longer grasp meaning; the characters scattered meaninglessly before her eyes as they passed by. The emptiness of her mind seemed to invite precisely those thoughts she tried to suppress—now they slyly raised their heads.

“Why must it be like this?”

While despising her own spinelessness yet utterly unable to overcome it, when she finally tore her eyes away from the desk, a flood of disparate thoughts came rushing in all at once.

“What kind of face did he make when he touched that money?”

First she tried thinking about such things.
After that unreservedly given insult—after seeing that money—Itsuko fully understood what Tani must have felt.
The moment she thought of her husband, his gloomy expression from when she first saw him that evening resurfaced.
It might have been too harsh, but sometimes there was no helping it.
That man only ever thought about how to avoid unpleasant feelings himself.
Alone at her desk, Itsuko listed out example after example to her husband.
As she did so, he seemed less a spineless man and more someone who was simply as lazy and self-serving as possible.

Seven

“What’s this? You still haven’t finished reading this? How many days does it take you to get through something like this?”

As soon as Tani sat down beside Itsuko’s desk, he began flipping through the book’s pages and said:

“Every single day, I’m just chasing after tasks—how could I possibly find time to read or do anything else? It’s different with you.”

With her feelings toward Tani—those she had harbored until now—laid bare as if snapping back, Itsuko pressed her lips into a tight line and fell silent.
Tani, confronted with this unexpectedly sharp retort, visibly irritated, swallowed his next words and fell silent for a while, but soon began speaking again in a calm tone.

“Do you really need to do every single one of those so-called tasks yourself?”
“Instead of fussing and bustling all day, why not figure out a way to make a little more time for yourself?”

“I don’t need your instructions now of all times, but such a thing is utterly impossible.”

“Why can’t O-Ito or Mother handle the household tasks? And reading something that isn’t even strenuous—you could do that while watching the child, couldn’t you?”
“Even at night, there’s a reasonable amount of time like this, isn’t there?”

“Oh, but it’s not as if you’re just watching from the sidelines. Why do they consider reading books to be nothing more than an extravagant indulgence compared to idle chatter? It’s utterly absurd to carve out time for that—even if I scrounge up a little here and there, it won’t help at all. At night I’m too exhausted to manage anything. In this state, I’ve no idea what will become of me. Everyone else keeps forging ahead with their studies, yet I alone am being left behind.”

“They can’t possibly think it’s just a frivolous pastime.”

“Do you truly believe they don’t see it that way? After everything I said this morning—how can you still not understand?”

“Then stop staying silent and make it clear this isn’t some hobby! If you keep quiet like this, they’ll never grasp it no matter how long we wait.”

"If that’s how you feel, then you should be the one to speak."
"Because I can’t do it."

"If it’s your own matter, you should speak for yourself. Why can’t you?"

"If I were to say it, they’d only take it strangely."
"I can’t utter even ordinary things through my own mouth."

"Don’t be ridiculous! That’s just your unnecessary resentment. You’re only harming yourself by not speaking."
"Say what you want to say outright and do what you want to do without hesitation—you’re making a fool of yourself with these trivial reservations."

“The relationship between me and those people is entirely different from yours with them—I’m not being resentful, but no matter what you want to say or do, it’s trivial for you. Even if you get angry or scolded, it’ll blow over right then and there. But things don’t work that way for me.”
“Even if I say one ordinary thing, they’ll keep making unpleasant faces for ten or twenty days, and I’ll have to listen to painful remarks—it’s just unbearable.”

“Well, there’s no help for it. Do whatever you want.”

He stood up abruptly and left with those words.
At the same moment, within Itsuko’s mind, her anger at his cold, unfeeling attitude blazed up like fire.
All the dissatisfaction she had suppressed until now—down to each minute detail concerning him—surged forth in unison.
Alongside this, the many hardships she had endured for his sake until today came flooding back one after another.
Merely standing before unreasonable people’s arguments to defend him must have been unbearably painful for Itsuko.
The responsibility for an unmanageable household life, the meticulous tasks, even enduring without uttering a single thing she wished to say—Itsuko could only see all her struggles as rooted there. If she were to speak her mind freely and act as she pleased, every last complaint and dissatisfaction from those in the household would inevitably be brought to Tani.
Even before now, Itsuko had experienced this many times over.
Because she loathed repeating it endlessly, she had hoped he would speak calmly on her behalf.
Considering everything—he wasn’t entirely unaware of her suffering—she thought it only natural that if he showed any consideration, he would discuss such matters with her mother and sister, even if it proved slightly troublesome.
Yet he—whether aware of Itsuko’s feelings or not—callously brushed them aside.
He coldly rebuffed her, making it impossible to approach him again.
But Itsuko still had not voiced her true demand of him.
She considered going to his side once more to try talking.
However, given how far matters had progressed—with her thoughts surely clear—he had told her that if there was something she wanted to do or say, she should simply do it herself.
That alone sufficed—just as he always insisted on everything, he had told her the same.

Itsuko knew it would be futile to speak with him again after thinking this way. She truly had no choice but to resolve things herself. Now that matters had reached this point, Itsuko defiantly thought—she wouldn’t care how her own actions might affect him. As she dwelled on this, she suddenly confronted a certain attitude of his there. Her husband was perpetually fleeing from the proactive stance he himself always advocated. Even regarding interactions with others that arose amidst trivial daily matters, he tried to avoid them whenever possible.

“It’s such a bother—just take care of it.”

Saying that, he would leave most matters to Itsuko and the mother.
Even when fully aware that more than mere inconvenience—discomfort or harm—would inevitably result from such outcomes, he still remained sitting there exactly as he was.

“You just spout selfish nonsense with your hands tucked away! Try actually putting your own hands to work for once—then see if that’s how the world functions.”

The mother too would occasionally lash out at his attitude like this.

“I’ve no interest in dealing with the world.”

“That won’t do! You puff yourself up so grandly, yet do nothing worthy of that swagger. Even this carefree drivel you spout—it’s only because we’re propping you up before everyone else!”

In Itsuko’s mind, fragments of those conversations floated up.

"That's right—maybe he didn't speak with as much depth of thought as I'd imagined," I reflected.
Now I wondered if he might have been reproaching me for my weak resolve.
Even while resenting his coldness, I found myself considering whether my conventional reserve and hesitations—this compromising attitude of mine—had struck him as disagreeable, prompting such indifference.
"But in truth," I concluded, "he must have fully understood the complications between me and the family members—that's why he called mediation bothersome and spoke that way."

Having thought this through, Itsuko once again summoned her anger toward him.

"It’s certainly a hassle, but compared to how much I’ve suffered until today, isn’t it nothing at all?"

VIII

As Itsuko had thought, Tani found intervening between her and his mother both troublesome and annoying. Particularly with such matters, talking to his mother was never as straightforward as Itsuko imagined it to be. In fact, his mediation might have created even greater confusion than if she had spoken directly herself. What’s more, once he stepped in, he risked being dragged into voicing his opinion on every subsequent issue that arose. For Tani, this prospect amounted to intolerable bother. From every perspective, letting Itsuko handle the resolution herself seemed not only more appropriate but unexpectedly likely to proceed smoothly. Though she now harbored various anxieties, he maintained a cold detachment—writing it off as trivial—reasoning that if necessity truly forced her hand, she’d inevitably act, and once she did, things would settle without reaching the extremes she feared.

But Itsuko gradually continued probing his attitude from one aspect to another.

"Even if his reasons went beyond mere annoyance—if he truly took offense at my conventional attitude—could he himself ever show strength and courage toward more significant circumstances with real meaning, rather than condemning my stance over trivial nuisances that create various troubles?
I understood perfectly well that he felt not defiance but outright hatred toward it.
But when had he ever directed that defiance, that hatred, straight at its source?
Wasn't he rather using his hatred as justification to distance himself as much as possible? Didn't he wish to remain utterly uninvolved to the greatest extent?
Why?
If asked, he'd say it was because he knew his strength still fell short.
If questioned whether he'd simply surrender and yield, he still clung to that hatred.
Then would he fight through that hatred, even inadequately?
He wouldn't even do that.
Where does he place himself?"

When she had thought that far, she abruptly came to a halt.
At the same time, she realized this was not merely about his attitude but a fundamental problem she now had to confront regarding her own unadulterated self.

She too had harbored a blazing rebellious spirit against all customs, against their falsehoods.
And this had been clearly bestowed upon her when she first began to be treated as a full-fledged woman—emerging from her position as someone being educated.
She wished that, at the very least, her own life could remain separate from those ugly things.
But first she had been confined to the household and burdened with the weight of a child.
Yet no matter where she found herself, she never forgot her hatred for what were called customs.
She thought she must somehow sweep those things away—from herself, her surroundings, from beside her precious child.
But as she gradually came to understand just how arduous this task was, the sorrow over her own inadequacy only weakened her further.
What despair must this realization have given her—that the customs she tried to repel with all her hatred and the rational power justifying it had burrowed into every corner of her very being to obstruct her?
She could do nothing about the other base feelings lurking in her mind’s corners—feelings that, no matter how desperately the hatred and rebellion siding with true righteousness tried to block them, would easily break free, compromise with any emotion excluding and insulting her, and persist in grasping at immediate ease.
She, as if making excuses—thinking she would eventually gain strength, that the opportune moment would come—had continued making step-by-step concessions to both internal and external circumstances; even when she occasionally paused, after brief hesitation she was pushed aside and driven relentlessly to this point, all ultimately due to the weakness born of that self-awareness.

“Even having grown this weak, I still firmly grasp my hatred and rebellious spirit.”
“Just as he clings to it while escaping as much as he can, I too keep holding onto it without discarding it, even while concealing it.”

The thought weighed heavily on Itsuko—if concealing it was too burdensome, she should discard it entirely; if she couldn’t bear to lose it, she must carry it with unwavering resolve. This time, she had to choose decisively between those two paths.

“From now on—no matter what consequences may come—it can’t be helped; I’ll try doing things my own way without trivialities, without holding back or compromise; that alone is how I’ll truly secure my life.”

But from beneath that resolve, a weak feeling immediately reared its head.

"Even if I took back all the concessions I'd made until now, I'd never gain freedom. I'd have to push back several times—no, ten times—as hard as those concessions."

That was only natural.
Yet what seemed natural to Itsuko would undoubtedly be seen by others as sheer lawlessness.
The uncertainty of how far this conflict might stretch couldn't help but darken even Itsuko's resolute heart as she steeled herself.
Even with conviction that she'd overcome this, it remained merely the task of settling household matters.
If she stepped outside, wouldn't the same forces lie in wait?
The constraints and irrationalities called customs clung to her relentlessly wherever she turned.
Might they not be lurking within her very self as she pondered this?
Then what should I do?
Noticing she was losing the thread of her crucial thoughts, she immediately halted and began reconsidering anew.

I am now trying to escape various constraints to nurture myself.
But why do I seek to cultivate myself this way?
Why can’t I find my true self within the household, within child-rearing?
And where else might I discover it?
In household life—in child-rearing—anywhere—I could find myself.
I could become free.
But having married into a household steeped in entrenched customs, I must sacrifice people wholly unlike myself to act with such freedom.
The single great pain and hardship in trying to live truthfully now lies precisely there.
And this I must overcome—there’s no alternative.
Hardships will persist, suffering will endure, and even should I finally grasp my freedom—

Her thoughts inevitably circled back to the same point.
In short, constraints and irrationalities now clung naturally to every part of contemporary human life.
To confront them would mean simply suffering from start to finish.
To give up and dismiss it as ultimately unattainable, or to plunge deeper into the suffering—no matter how many times she reconsidered, the problem always circled back to that single point.

**Nine**

Should I give up and turn back, or resolutely move forward?
Though she had grappled with this dilemma countless times before, each confrontation at this critical juncture left her utterly incapable of resolution.

Yet this indecision was never truly unresolved.
For how could she possibly affirm "giving up"—an act that contradicted both her habitual convictions and the very origin of this torment?
"If I could simply 'give up,' this struggle would never have arisen to begin with."
The truth of her suffering lay here: that desperate wish to evade—even slightly—the solitary path demanding greater personal sacrifice; that reluctance to advance which sought to justify dragging everything into evasive resignation through the very legitimacy of her anguish.

As these somewhat clearer thoughts began to take root somewhere, her feelings too gradually started growing brave.
A willingness to meekly accept whatever suffering came her way was gradually awakening, and when she concretely pictured each pain inflicted by her current life in her mind, most turned out to be interactions with others in daily life.
The most immediate of these were the interactions within the household.
Yet even if there was a single root cause, what directly became sources of suffering were nothing but trivial matters—things that only turned into exaggerated issues simply because they shared the same house and constantly saw each other’s faces.
As she dwelled on such thoughts, she could only see it as utterly foolish—being tormented by those trivial household matters and having her own life obscured by them to the point of suffering.

However, for the other family members, such trivial matters still remained a major problem.
And if she were to remain indifferent to such trivial matters as she thought, it would become an even greater problem for him.
And she too could not escape that problem.
Though they were called trivial matters, they had indeed provided sufficient potential to immediately disturb and overwhelm her thoughts.

“No matter what, I must leave this house.”

The more Itsuko thought about it, the more her resolve hardened.
Even were she to make every possible effort to oppose her family and assert her own ideas, their power remained formidable.
The prevailing attitudes around her served as reinforcement.
Moreover, they were enmeshed in that poisonous relationship dynamic inherent to being daughter-in-law, mother-in-law, and sisters-in-law.
Given all these factors, this conflict might well continue without end.
If that were the case, perhaps it would be infinitely better to join a broader struggle—one that grappled with more fundamental issues.
Whether measured by effectiveness or my own inner state, the difference would be profound.
A little criticism meant nothing,

“I must leave, I must leave. My path must not be obstructed for others’ sake.”

Once her resolve reached that point, the forms of all that had been hindering her thoughts until now—each and every one—became clearly understood along with their reasons. And the confidence in that decisive thinking further strengthened her resolve.

Itsuko resolved to leave home no matter what.
And I wanted to somehow make my relationship with Tani a bit freer; I even thought it might be acceptable to sever ties if necessary.
And I truly thought to return to my student days and study.
The handling of the child—which I had assumed would be my sole concern—turned out to be by no means troublesome.
Given the household circumstances, there was no choice but for her to take [the child] along.
And if she were to take [the child] along, it seemed a method could be taken so the child would not end up in such an unfortunate state.

In order to act upon her firm resolve, Itsuko continued to fervently consider various concrete plans for about two days.
Even during that time, her own cowardice—attempting to shatter her resolve—kept imposing various anxieties and pangs of anguish one after another.
But now her thoughts, fortified by a resolve to yield to nothing, effortlessly pushed those things aside.

Itsuko’s thoughts had settled into every nook and cranny. With that relief, she looked around the Some-Some household for the first time in two or three days. The daily routines had been fulfilled without disruption. She herself had kept her body busy at work these past few days while continuing her contemplations. It was truly unusual—so peaceful that it didn’t hinder her from sustaining those weighty thoughts.

When this opportunity comes—

Not wanting to deliberately disturb the current peaceful atmosphere she was maintaining, Itsuko left her fully formed resolve untouched and waited for an opportunity.

Every day brought crisp autumn skies that lifted the spirits.
From morning onward she busied herself with laundry and scrubbing floors, sometimes humming lullabies to the child as if carefree.
At night she collapsed into bed and slept soundly.
The child grew calmer too as autumn’s gentle breezes softened the air.
After four days the mother returned wearing a bright smile.
A mellow mood now filled every corner of the house, leaving no trace of the confrontational moments Itsuko had steeled herself to exploit.
The resolve she’d so painstakingly forged began quietly fraying at the edges.
Yet Itsuko turned resolutely away from such thoughts, focusing instead on winter preparations that loomed ever closer—pondering each task with grave intensity as she folded linens or stirred pots.
At dusk she’d enter clutching sun-dried laundry, her sweat-damp face unclouded by discontent, eyes still lively as she bounced the child or chatted with her mother-in-law.

[“New Japan” Volume 8, Number 10 · October 1918 Issue]