Pathway to Japanese Literature

He got off the train at a station. It was a day when autumn had cleared chillily after prolonged rains. When he emerged from the crowd, the platform air hung crystalline.

While adrift in the human tide, Mr. Kuriya began scattering his gaze and attention left-right-front-back. Then his heart snagged on a woman walking directly before his eyes—from her well-shaped round chignon and pink hair cloth down to sloping shoulders. For a Japanese woman she was large-framed first of all; with hips neither spreading nor sagging and a figure built on neatly-turned small steps, her posture showed unbearably fine form. That her footwork carried such free-spirited joy made her a woman seldom encountered.

The act of quickly overtaking her to see her face immediately became his mission.
The reason he, living in the suburbs, occasionally came downtown like this was to nourish his heart with such beautiful stimulation.

He caught a glimpse.
At times like these, he no longer considered appearances or reputation.
He greedily peered.
His heart cried out.
“Stunning!”
Like throwing a thermometer into hot water, his satisfaction soared to the highest mark on the scale.
How noble, how innocent... He nearly attempted to pour forth every last bit of praise he could muster.

However, jealousy and hatred would invariably follow thereafter.
It was because she was another man’s wife.
He tried to erase this feeling by conjuring up his usual self-serving imaginings in his heart.

“This woman has another man she’s in love with.”

“No—this woman is a harlot beneath her appearance.
She’s a villain.”

Even when he tried thinking this way, he felt none of it quite adhered to this woman.

He let the woman pass by and began to follow her.
The woman seemed to walk with such angelic freedom and cheerfulness that even had he acted far more brazenly before her eyes，she likely wouldn’t have taken notice.
People other than him appeared wholly indifferent toward her，each hastening toward their own destinations.
Yet trams and automobiles seemed to part ways for her，and she glided through them without hindrance.
He，following behind，found himself infuriatingly obstructed by every conveyance and pedestrian.
Anxious not to lose sight of her，

“Damn it! Even dogs are getting in the way!”

Muttering such things under his breath, he went about leaping over puddles. Even so, this was undeniably a pleasant game.

A large department store came into view before them. On the rooftop tower, a flag beckoned patrons. The multi-story building’s windows sent countless smiles to the pedestrians.

She disappeared into the store without the slightest hesitation, much like a government official reporting for duty.
This was convenient for Kuriya.
The store had arranged enough goods to occupy even someone with his excessive free time throughout an entire day.
If she had entered this place, he could have encountered her any number of times.
He walked calmly through the store.
On tables before him, tobacco rose like children’s building blocks while canned goods towered in pyramidal formations.
He swept his gaze across this display once before turning it toward where the woman should have been.
Yet nowhere could her figure be found.
Nor could he discover any beauties who might rival her.

He hurried to the second floor along marble-paneled walls, treading softly on cork-lined stairs.
Had she ascended to heaven via elevator? She remained nowhere in sight.
Genuinely alarmed now, he scrambled up to the third floor.
Though her figure lacked ostentation, spotting her proved as effortless as discerning a rooster among hens.
She already cradled a paper-wrapped parcel of fabric in her arms.
Now she stood before an expansive table laden with half-collars, joining other women in examining wares.
He positioned himself behind hanging ready-made suits and began observing.
The beautiful women's marble-smooth hands lifted serpent-heavy crepe fabrics that slithered away in slippery coils, each piece voraciously inspected under their covetous gazes.
Though young beauties displayed themselves from every angle, none shone with her radiance.
He studied her minutest gestures with theatergoer's intensity.
She would hold swatches of collar fabric to the window light before replacing them, repeating the process with new handfuls.
Then came the revelatory instant:
As she lifted several collars toward the light and flipped the outermost two,
she deftly extracted the center piece and slipped it into her sleeve.
Naturally he doubted his vision.
Yet he unmistakably witnessed this sleight repeated multiple times.
A shock gripped him as if he himself performed the act.
Flames scorched his cheeks, his ears rang thunderously, congealed blood seeming to clog his veins.

“Ah…”

He let out an involuntary deep sigh.
And then, once again, he opened his eyes wide and stared at her.
Still, the one he had been following was none other than his beautiful woman.
Tears fell like rain inside his stomach from the sheer wretchedness of it all.
And yet, at this very moment, an intense, genuine love for her suddenly welled up within him.

What sin could exist before beauty?
What vice could exist before love?
What truly exists is beauty and love that transcend sin and vice.
He could only fervently wish in his heart that everyone would remain unaware of the act she had committed.

Look, her face is shining so brightly, isn’t it?
Isn’t she beautiful, innocent, and precious as an angel?
He muttered inwardly.

In fact, she left the table without hesitation, displaying an almost unnaturally cheerful demeanor.
He had lost all capacity to imagine what might happen next and approached her with eyes like someone watching a magic trick.
Then he noticed that the sealing paper on her fabric package had come undone.
She must have removed it while the paste was still fresh.
The half-collar she had just slipped out would soon be deftly concealed within.
When he realized this, even a spark of interest began to kindle within him.
Rather, he found himself almost wanting to applaud her success.
She walked calmly toward the area marked by a sign for the ladies' restroom.

He had once read about it in a newspaper.
In such large department stores, among the frequent shoplifting incidents, women mostly stole fabrics; before taking them out, they would go to the restroom to conceal them, so the article claimed.
Recalling this once more filled him with shame.
When she emerged again, the purchases she had been carrying were wrapped in a furoshiki.

When she exited the store and crossed one intersection, there stood a large bank building.
The surroundings left a wide open space, and dead leaves were falling from the grove of Japanese snowbell trees as though remembering.
The so-called fence consisted solely of stone pillars and iron chains that connected them and hung down, allowing people to come and go freely.
When she arrived there, he had immediately caught up behind her.
If he passed by silently like this, he would end up as nothing more than a person by the roadside.
Yet he held a great secret.
He had come to feel that he couldn’t leave this knowledge unused.
He lengthened his stride by a step and called out with a strangely curiosity-laden false bravado.

“Excuse me,” he said—and in that very moment of speaking, he realized how carelessly unprepared he was for what to say next.
A cloud of regret suddenly spread through his head.
At the same time, the wish that his words hadn’t been heard arose within him.
But all of that was utterly futile.
She slowed her pace and turned toward him.
She stopped in her tracks.
There was no turning back now.
In his panic, he found himself unable to fabricate an excuse.

“It seems you did some shopping at that store just now, isn’t that right?”

“I did, but what are you implying by that?”

The woman showed not the slightest surprise; rather, she remained composed as if she had been waiting for this very moment.
However, whether due to nerves or not, a shadow of unease seemed to flicker across her beautifully radiant face.

“Well, it’s not that there’s any particular issue… This may be terribly rude of me, but I simply thought you might have made a slight mistake, so I wished to inquire briefly—that’s all.”

Though his words were incoherent, he spoke with the intention of maintaining proper courtesy toward the noble lady.

But once he had said this much, the pride he had felt until now in his detective’s eye, the curiosity of holding the secret key to this beautiful woman, and the despicable ambition of somehow miraculously encountering her—all of these had completely vanished at this moment, leaving his heart in turmoil with apprehension and a dreadful premonition of regret.

“Are you suggesting I’ve done something improper?”

She immediately grew agitated.
A defiant gleam took on her stern eyes.
Now that things had come to this, even the facts he himself had clearly discerned earlier somehow seemed to have become ambiguous.

“No—that’s not what I meant…”

He was at a loss for words.
He wanted to retract everything from the very beginning.
He began terrifying his own mind, intensifying his fear.
However, the woman remained agitated.

“And just who are you, sir?”
“Do you possess some sort of right to capture innocent people and harm others as you please?”

There was a contemptuous light in her eyes.
He felt a force pressing in through the air.
That very force was compelling defiance within him.

“I am a detective.”
Having become desperate, he once again rashly blurted out such words.
He immediately had to regret this too.

“Though I say ‘detective,’ I’m from a private detective agency.”

The woman showed not the slightest look of surprise, but one could imagine that within her heart, unease and the resolve to quash it arose one after the other.

“Are you claiming that store hired you?”
“Quite.”
“Let us go together.”

The woman, now thoroughly agitated, attempted to turn back—a move that threw him into considerable disarray as well.

“No! It’s absolutely not that I was commissioned!”
“Please wait a moment.”

He pressed to stop her as if stamping a seal in the air with his palm.

“No—
“That will not do.
“You—who have no connection to this—could not possibly go about casting groundless suspicions upon a perfect stranger.
“Let us go and have this matter properly clarified.
“Even being suspected of such a thing constitutes an irreparable dishonor.
“You must unequivocally restore the injury done to my honor.”

He wavered in his heart—should he abase himself in apology, or should he take flight?
In any case, he had grown despondent.

“Now, please don’t get so agitated. I’m not saying I suspected you of anything at all—it’s just that this is a single incident from when I was a novice during my detective research days.”

“Research, you say? A single incident, you say? There’s a limit to making a fool of someone just because you think I’m a woman! To cast suspicion on an innocent person without a shred of evidence and call it research—what kind of reasoning is that? What do you mean by ‘a single incident’—?” Her voice gradually sharpened into a shrill, tearful cry. Tears welling in her eyes were also visible. Yet through her tears, the woman grew even more emboldened and even more eloquent. “How mortifying!” She muttered this as if to herself before continuing.

“To think you’ve dared to tarnish the reputation of a prestigious high-ranking government official’s wife!”
“Do you think this can be settled by staying silent?”
“I will take this matter to the proper authorities and have you provide a clear explanation.”

She pressed a handkerchief to her eyes and burst into loud tears.
Her clenched teeth ground sharply; passersby began halting.
At the very moment he could no longer endure it, he began believing this woman had not shoplifted.
For if that were not the case, she would not be speaking so vehemently.

“Come now, let us go together.”
“Let us go to the police station together.”
“I will have my innocence clearly demonstrated.”
“Even if detective work is your trade, what right do you have as just a private detective?”
She raised her crimson-tinged eyes, blurred with tears.
It was precisely her beauty that made her terrifying.

He could no longer retreat.
No matter how sincerely he apologized, it was clear that having come this far was futile.
He thought there was only one way to cover up his failure.

“Stop your whining—I’m taking you in whether you like it or not. Look at this! I’m a detective from the Metropolitan Police Department!” He took out a business card and thrust it toward the woman. It bore only his full name and, alongside it, his address—with no mention whatsoever of being a detective or affiliation with the Metropolitan Police Department, of course.

“Whether they’re detectives or police officers—do they have any right to cast suspicion on innocent people and tarnish their reputations?”

The woman’s voice was no longer tearful. As she said this, she raised her eyes from the handkerchief. At this moment, he instinctively retracted the business card. At this moment, both she and he almost simultaneously spotted a single police officer now patrolling the town right before their eyes.

“Excuse me—”
As she said this, she began walking toward the police officer.

The wind blew up the street’s dust into small waves and—enveloping them both—raced toward the police officer before vanishing.
He too wanted to vanish with this dust.
No—there was nothing at all.
While she was informing the police officer, he thought there was no choice but to flee recklessly.
He turned his face in the opposite direction.
His body began to sway.
Then—“If I flee it’ll be worse”—something deep within him issued a forceful command that stopped him in his tracks.
His heartbeat pounded like rapid temple bells reverberating up through his skull.

“Excuse me—”

He heard her say this again.
“Oh no—this was already bad.
“I can’t stand this anymore!”
His heart screamed in anguish.
His body shook as if thrashing.

The police officer drew steadily closer.
Six feet, five feet, four feet—ah, he finally came to a stop.
The woman showed a coquettish smile and, adopting a posture that seemed ready to collapse into the police officer like dispersing clouds, began to speak.

“Excuse me, I have a request.
This fake detective here has been following me relentlessly…”

The police officer cast a sharp glance at the two of them.
He was left dumbfounded not so much by the sharpness of that gaze as by the terrifying manner in which the woman spoke.
He completely lost all sense of what to do.
Before his eyes even loomed the terrifying form of a prison building.

The woman began talking rapidly, not waiting for the police officer’s response.

“I just went to that store over there and did a little shopping.
And when I came out here, this person came chasing after me and tried to interrogate me about doing something improper.
I have no recollection of such a thing, and there’s no reason for someone like him to investigate me.
If he were a proper detective or officer, that would be one thing, but this person is just making baseless accusations to extort money, I suppose…”
The woman’s fluent words glided out more smoothly than a skilled oration, with a momentum that left no room for breath.
Despite this, the police officer turned toward him.

“What the hell are you?”
The police officer wasn’t asking—he was scolding.
Trembling uncontrollably, he found his reply immediately stuck in his throat.

“At first he claimed to be a private detective, then ended up threatening people by saying he was a Metropolitan Police detective and showed his business card—but there’s nothing written about being a detective or anything of the sort.”
“It’s an evil plot by that fake detective to trap people…”

She interrupted and kept chattering away.
He wanted to vanish using ninjutsu or something.
He thought it would be fine if he just vanished completely as he was.

“I’m not asking you.”
The police officer reprimanded the woman.
And once again directed the same question at him.

“I... I haven’t done anything wrong.
“I merely went to that store and chanced to see this person...”

“All this talk of coincidence is lies.
“He’s been tailing and spying on me since I alighted from the government railway at the station.
“Going on about detectives and police officers—”

“I’m not asking you. ...Just what exactly are you?”
The police officer addressed them both.

He was shocked to realize she had known he was following her from the very beginning.
His entire body trembled from self-reproach and the terror it invoked.
He managed to answer his address and full name in a trembling voice.
He also showed his business card as instructed.
He confessed to both the initial falsehood of calling himself a detective and the later pretense of being a Metropolitan Police detective, exactly as the woman had stated.
He kept apologizing humbly as he was being scolded.
He had long wanted to apologize like this, but while finding it difficult to do so before the woman, he ended up being dragged along by her and telling nothing but lies.
Having brought things to this point, the police officer interrogated him exhaustively.
He, fully aware of his guilt and filled with self-reproach, confessed to having followed the woman from the station just as she had described.
He would confess, only to be scolded.
Each time he was scolded, he would apologize and then confess again.

When he spoke of how he had seen her slip the half-collar into her sleeve and how she had entered the restroom to place it inside the wrapping paper, the woman repeatedly interrupted from the side. She opened the package she held and presented it before them both. Beneath the wrapping paper lay nothing but a single bolt of meisen silk. The payment receipt was also shown. That no half-collar remained in her sleeve became indisputable. He was thoroughly berated and kept apologizing each time. That he was a serious criminal had now become clear to him. That punishment would follow had also come to be faintly understood. It was something he had no choice but to accept.

“Hey! Wait a second!”

By the police officer’s voice, he was struck by a great hammer of terror.
After a moment, he looked at the police officer’s face.
The police officer was gazing completely outward.
When he followed the direction of his gaze, there was a middle-aged woman who looked like a servant walking hunched along the side of the road.

“Yes, sir!”
The woman stopped as if electrocuted.

“Come here!”
The police officer said.

While interrogating the two here, he was surprised by the police officer’s composed demeanor.

“I don’t know anything.”
The middle-aged woman twisted her body sideways as if to hide her chest area and attempted to slip past.

“Wait!”
The police officer’s voice grew sharper.

Now’s my chance!
A will to escape flashed through his mind.
But the next instant, he remembered having given his address.

The middle-aged woman approached with sly eyes.
The police officer turned toward her.

“You received the half-collars from this shoplifting woman and are holding them, aren’t you?”
“You all had arranged to meet at the next station stop, didn’t you?”
“But since this woman was too slow, you must have come to check on the situation.”
“But then that woman saw her being interrogated before me.”
“Recognizing this as a critical situation, she approached.”
“However, this shoplifting woman signaled several times with her eyes.”
“It must have been at the point where it was effectively saying she didn’t need to come here.”
“There, having gone through the trouble of gathering herself, she tried to slip past.”
“That’s likely, but—”
“That must be exactly what happened. Yes!”
“But exactly—are you this woman’s servant?”
“Or are you saying you’re just an accomplice?!”

What the police officer said was utterly unexpected.
He couldn’t make sense of anything.
The three of them were simply taken away to the police.
In that area, there were nearly ten onlookers who stopped to watch.
To every eye, it was equally clear that the most docile criminal was Kuriya.

“I’m so sorry.”

And so, Mr. Kuriya repeated these words over and over as he followed along behind the police officer.

“The madam knows nothing about it.”
“The madam truly knows nothing about it.”
“Poor Madam.”
“If we must go to the police, only I and this person should go.”

The middle-aged woman stopped several times and said to the police officer.
The beautiful woman said nothing.
The act of crying alone was the only thing conveying meaning.

(February 1926)