Pathway to Japanese Literature

Tenement Cherry Blossom Viewing

The year’s end was closing in on a night at Asakusa Namikitei.

On the elevated stage, young rakugo performer Tachibanaya Entarō braved the cold wearing only a single padded kimono, his dopey expression working to charm the audience as he loosely wrapped a cheap furoshiki cloth around his waist in place of a proper obi sash.

Every time Entarō—with his sparkling eyes and charming round face—uttered a word, the nearly sixty audience members illuminated under the gas lamps roared with laughter in unison.
Audiences on evenings with sparse attendance, being mindful of their surroundings, tend not to laugh.
But tonight’s crowd had indeed been just like that until moments earlier.
After Entarō took the stage, a whirlwind of explosive laughter suddenly erupted.

“Hfft hfft hfft”

“Bwa ha ha”

It was an unending wave of laughter.

In the midst of this, Entarō continued speaking earnestly without so much as a smile.
That only stoked everyone’s amusement further.

The title was “Tenement Cherry Blossom Viewing.”

The comical sight of that familiar impoverished tenement group—substituting bitter tea for sake, takuan pickles for tamagoyaki, daikon slices for kamaboko in their makeshift feast—setting out for cherry blossom viewing; seizing this moment, Entarō was delivering an impassioned performance of its absurdity.

First, when this month’s and next month’s monthly duty officers shouldered their shabby cherry blossom viewing gear and set off, a young couple dressed in threadbare outfits approached from the opposite direction.
One of the monthly duty officers who noticed this first admired how the couple’s outfits, though plain, consisted entirely of well-tailored full-length garments—remarkable indeed—then asked, “So anyway, how much d’you reckon our clothes here are actually worth?”
Then the other monthly duty officer replied dejectedly, “Yeah… At most, twelve sen for the two of us combined, I’d say.”

But Master Entarō himself—who was delivering this very monologue—looked so much like an actual tenement resident in his truly twelve-sen-worth filthy kimono, grimy hand towel, and grubby fan that the audience couldn't help but laugh all the more at this pitifully realistic portrayal.

……Eventually, they reached the hill of blossoms.
The bancha drinking party—their so-called “tea-bash”—began.
The landlord, being the one who proposed it, was alone in getting into the spirit and delighting himself, but the tenement residents, lacking any alcohol content, only grew more dejected.
To begin with, the spring breeze cut cold against bellies sloshing with tea.
The increasingly delighted landlord urged them to compose a haiku, but nah—who was in the mood for that?
Still, someone managed to compose a haiku: "The entire tenement grits its teeth—such cherry blossom viewing!"

“Ugh, better not to have composed one at all!”
Within that indescribable absurdity lay an unparalleled display of Edoite stubborn pride—this too was where Entarō truly excelled.
The audience roared with laughter.

……As this month’s duty officer rambled on, pretending drunkenness from tea, the delighted landlord—seeming quite pleased—asked, “So how’s it feel?”

“What can I say? My belly’s sloshing like a water bucket.”
“Pardon my saying so before you, Landlord, but this feels just like when I tumbled down the well last week.”

“……”

As Entarō murmured while bowing and rose with his punchline, the entire audience erupted in one final roar of delight.
The applause and laughter showed no sign of abating, and they kept roaring endlessly, endlessly.
Sent off by their laughter, Entarō shuffled down to the dressing room.
But he remained unchanged in his utterly foolish appearance, just like the tenement’s monthly duty officer he’d been portraying.

“Ahh, tonight was one fine spring evening!”

Without even attempting to drink the tea an apprentice had drawn and served, Entarō turned toward Katsujirō, the musician awaiting his turn to perform.

“Quit it, Entarō! Today’s December twentieth for you, ain’t it? What kinda ‘fine spring’ are you blabberin’ about?!”

The dark-skinned, long-faced Kokontei Imasuke, who was standing beside him in exasperation, said.

“Ain’t it spring?”

Entarō assumed an expression brimming with confidence.

“How’s that?”

Imasuke shot back.

“What’s with the ‘how’? Mood ain’t some logical thing!”
“It’s right there in the calendar! Plain as day in the calendar!”
“From October through April—they’re all springtime, I tell ya.”
“Which makes tonight one fine spring evenin’, don’t it?”

Having finished his declaration, he stood utterly unperturbed.

“This guy’s a riot,”

“What a complete farce!”

Imasuke, Katsujirō, and even the apprentice performers were inadvertently drawn in and burst out laughing.
A thunderous burst of laughter now reverberated from the dressing room to the vaudeville theater.

Obon Lanterns on New Year’s Day

“How about you quit standing there forever and sit down already, Entarō?”

Seeing Entarō standing there with his hands tucked in his sleeves, Imasuke called out.

"Hmm.
I can't just stay put like this."

Entarō didn’t even turn around.

“What a grand state of affairs.
Got side jobs or somethin’?”

Imasuke turned a mischievous gaze.

“Cut it out—you’ll make me sick with worry.
That ain’t it.
As for me, the ‘stick’ of poverty keeps growing thicker—can’t even swing it around come year’s end, I tell ya.”

“Then it ain’t a good spring or anythin’ at all, is it?”

Imasuke became utterly fed up,

“Then why don’t you go beg Master for pocket money? He might be Japan’s strictest when it comes to training, but he cares twice as much about his disciples as anyone else. Especially when we’re talking about Master San'yūtei Enchō—the legendary master who could make birds fall from the sky just by his reputation back then! There’s no call to be moping around like this.”

“Hmm... Nah.”

Entarō shook his head.

“I don’t wanna take nothin’ from Master.”

“Why?”

“’Cause Master’s already looking after me plenty with my art stuff. On top of that, I ain’t about to go bringing up money matters too.”

“Impressive, you.
When and where’d you pick up that kinda notion?”

Imasuke made a face of utter bewilderment.

“That’s just how I’ve always been.
Even if I look like this, Tachibanaya Entarō is a rakugo artist of the civilization and enlightenment era, you know.
Human affairs are all about self-reliance and independence!
First off, that way when I succeed, I’ll feel mentally refreshed!”

“Oh! You bastard.
If I’d just kept listening quietly, you had to go and spout such damn complicated nonsense!
‘I’ll feel mentally refreshed,’ you had to go and say.
Where’d you pick up such fancy words…?”

“I learned it from a Hōtan advertisement.”

With a carefree grin, Entarō answered.

“Got me there.
Ah, right.
Didn’t realize that was Morita Hōtan.
Then, Entarō.
How ’bout I teach you a self-reliant, mentally refreshing money-making scheme for this year-end?”

“There ain’t no such thing!”

“There’s a way.
If you do it, you’ll make a killin’ for sure.
Might be some work involved, but you’ll surely pull three or five ryō in a single New Year’s Day.”

“Huh? Three or five ryō—”

With a sudden plop, Entarō sat down and scooted closer to Imasuke.

“What a money-grubbing bastard you are.
When I mention making cash, you plop right down.”
“But Entarō—you really mean business?”

“I’m serious! Dead serious! Bro, just tell me how!”

“Then on New Year’s morn, jump up at the crow’s caw—Asakusa Nakamise’s fine, Ryōgoku Hirokōji works too, Shiba Kubochō Field if you like.
Take ’em wherever crowds gather and sell.”

“Sell? What exactly am I supposed to sell?”

“You know those Obon lanterns people hang for the spirits?”

Lowering his voice even further, Imasuke,

“You’re gonna sell those.”
“If it’s New Year’s morning, they’ll sell like they’ve grown wings, I tell ya.”

“Hmm, is that so? But Brother, I don’t know much about this stuff, but Obon lanterns are things people hang during the hot season, right?”

“That’s right.”

“You know, those lanterns with the lotus flower paintings, bush clover paintings, and evening face paintings stuck on ’em, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Hmm, would those things really amount to three ryō? Just why would things meant to be sold in the hot season suddenly grow wings and sell now…”

Entarō made a face that showed he simply couldn’t make sense of it.

“What a thick-headed dimwit you are! Selling hot-season goods ahead of New Year’s—that’ll make a killing, won’t it?”

At last speaking with utmost seriousness,

“Hey, think about it, Entarō.
“The most auspicious time in the whole year’s New Year’s.”
“Next comes Obon.”
“Folks everywhere make a big fuss over mid-year sales, don’t they?”
“Get me?”
“You’ll sell Obon lanterns during that lucky New Year’s.”
“People’ll buy ’em for the good omen anyway, won’t they?”

“Ah, I see now.”

“There’s a saying about this, right?
“Like Obon and New Year’s came together.”
“So you’re peddling this mash-up of both.”
“Can’t possibly lose money!”
“If these don’t sell, Tokyo might as well be pitch black!”

Suppressing his amusement, he said.

“I get it, I get it! So that’s it—Obon and New Year’s combined! That’s right, absolutely right, yeah! This looks like a fantastic money-making opportunity, huh?”

Before long, Entarō was grinning from ear to ear.

“How’s that? Pretty clever idea—eh? But Entarō—if we make a killing—you’re treating me to pie! Got it?”

“You got it, Brother! When that happens, I’ll treat you to whatever you say, Brother!”

Entarō had even begun to feel as bright and cheerful as if the auspicious fresh new spring had arrived.
At that moment, a smattering of applause broke out, and Katsujirō came down from the stage.
Just as they passed each other, Imasuke went up to the stage.
But Entarō, keeping his arms folded, didn't even glance in that direction.
He was thinking about the impending money-making opportunity, his heart licking its chops in anticipation.

“Hey, you! I’m talkin’ to you here!”

A crisp young woman’s voice sounded right by his ear.

With a start, Entarō snapped back to reality.
A fair-skinned woman with bold yet beautiful striking features stood poised beside the dimly lit large drum.
It was O-Yae from the lower tier, who had recently lost her mother and was now taken into Enchō’s household.

“Ah, O-Yae!”

Uncharacteristically turning his entire face bright red, Entarō was flustered.

O-Yae

“Do you really think that scheme from earlier will turn a profit?”

After Katsujirō had left, O-Yae spoke.

“Mm-hmm.”

Entarō nodded.

“Really?”

O-Yae’s peony-like face leaned in intently.

“But I’m startin’ a business where Obon an’ New Year come together! How could that not make money?”
“Brother Kokontei gave his stamp o’ approval!”
“There’s no way it wouldn’t make money!”

“Well, so you really were serious ’bout it after all.”
“I’m glad I warned you.”

Adjusting her large Benkei-striped collar, O-Yae seemed to let out a sigh of relief.
Whether real or imagined, her wide-open beautiful eyes, emerging in the lamplight, were glistening with moisture.

“Listen, Mr. Entarō.
“Please think this through carefully.
“Obon is when you light welcoming fires to receive the Buddhist spirits.
“That’s why every household calls a priest to recite sutras.
“Obon lanterns are meant to be hung precisely during that time.
“How could lanterns meant for the dead possibly be auspicious?”

“……”

“If you take something like that out to the bustling streets first thing on New Year’s morning trying to sell it, you’ll get beaten half to death for bringing bad luck!
“Besides, even if you tried selling them now, what lantern shop would have Obon lanterns at this time of year?”

“……”

“First of all, the one who taught you is at fault.”
“Of all people—look, it’s Mr. Imasuke!”

She cast a fleeting glance toward Imasuke on the stage.

“Is there anyone in this world as full of hot air as him?”
“He’s always spouting whatever nonsense comes out of his mouth—constantly tricking everyone!”
“You still trust what someone like that says…?”

“Ah! So that’s it! It was Imasuke all along!”

He made a face that said “I’ve messed up” for the first time.
That’s right—it was that mean-spirited Imasuke guy!
Yeah—and here I went along with it…

“See? You understand now, don’t you?”

“I get it, I get it! I completely get it now. Damn it! Imasuke, that bastard—what a damn bastard! I was about to make a huge fool of myself—really, really…”

He kept grumbling in frustration for a while, but—

“Thanks, O-Yae-chan.”

He bobbed his head in a single bow.

“Oh, don’t mind about such formalities.”
“What matters is you finally understood—I’m truly relieved.”
“But this sort of thing will keep happening.”
“With everyone being so wicked out there, you’ll need to be extra careful from now on…”

“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.”

He nodded obediently,

“Well then—thanks, O-Yae-chan.”
“See you tomorrow evening.”

Perhaps out of embarrassment, he abruptly stood up and made to leave through the backstage entrance.

“Ah, wait a moment, Mr. Entarō.”
“Tomorrow morning early—Master says he wants you to come.”
“Master says he has something to discuss with you.”

“Huh? Master...”
“Oh no.”
“It’s not another scolding, is it?”

Entarō, utterly slovenly in daily life.
When it came to scoldings, they were a daily occurrence.
He made a slightly worried face.

“Well… I don’t know what it is.”
“But it’s probably not a scolding.”
“Even if it is a scolding, it’ll be fine.”
“In that case, I’ll apologize for you.”

“Mm.
“I’m counting on you, then.”

“I’ll take care of it.”
“So you can rest assured…”

O-Yae smiled warmly, but

“Ah! That reminds me—Mr. Entarō, you don’t have any spring pocket money, do you? If you don’t have any, you should ask your Master for some. If it’s hard for you to ask, I can do it for you. And if it’s just a small amount, I can manage it myself.”

“I-I’ll be fine, O-Yae-chan. I’ll manage somehow.”

He frantically waved his hand.

“Right, are you absolutely sure?”

“It’s fine! Then I’ll go early tomorrow morning.”
“But about tonight’s matter—O-Yae-chan, please keep it a secret from Master.”
“Alright, goodbye.”

Rattling open the lattice door, Entarō energetically rushed out to the street.
The alley’s drainage planks were frozen solid, and the moon cast a pale blue light.

When he walked briskly to the end of the alley and looked back, O-Yae’s pale, clear-cut face—still gripping the lattice door as she watched him leave—appeared small in the distance.
He was so happy it made him shiver.
Especially when he thought about tonight’s thoughtful gesture, he felt almost tearfully grateful.
Entarō raised his right hand and waved it.

"I like O-Yae-bō"—Entarō thought.
Every single thing that woman possessed carried a familiarity and nostalgia that flowed through his blood.

But that girl would never fall for a clumsy, bumbling fool like me—the moment that thought struck, loneliness descended like sudden nightfall. What can you do? Even though I'm more than competent on stage, when it comes to everyday matters, I'm just a hopeless mess.

As he dashed through the midnight town, he was bawling his eyes out with his whole body.

Enchō's House

"When plum blossoms bloom, even the wallet lies empty"—using a half-folded sheet inscribed with first-rate characters imbued with Zen spirit by Mr. Yamaoka Tesshū as his model, San'yūtei Enchō was practicing his penmanship.

At San'yūtei Enchō’s residence in Asakusa Daishi Kawagishi.
While stroking his smoothly receding forehead, San'yūtei Enchō wrote "When plum blossoms bloom," "When plum blossoms bloom" over and over, only to erase it each time.
Before him, Entarō sat formally, still not having been informed of the purpose.

Creak... creak... creak... The sound of oars gliding along the Sumida River reached his ears, and the shadow of a sail cast upon the dew-laden shoji screens by the December morning sun swayed broadly and languidly onward.
While absentmindedly watching the sail’s shadow, he thought O-Yae-chan wasn’t there today.
Entarō was thinking such things.
But where on earth had she gone so early in the morning?

“So… about yesterday, you…”

That was when.
Enchō abruptly raised his face.
And then he spoke up.

“H-hey.”

Taken aback, Entarō was startled.

“Ah, about that performance engagement I asked you to handle yesterday. You did properly take care of it, didn’t you?”

In a gentle voice, Enchō inquired.

“Uh,
“Uh, about yesterday’s performance engagement—that was the one at that old folks home, right?”
“Oh yes, I’ve certainly gone there without fail.”
“Since rakugo performers hardly ever come around, they kept saying ‘How fascinating! How fascinating!’ and got all excited, so I got carried away and really put my back into it—ended up doing about five stories!”

“Five stories?
“My, my, you went all out, didn’t you?”
“And what exactly did you perform?”

“Stories about sick people, ones about freezing in the snow, ones about being homeless, I guess.”
“Oh right! And then I gave ’em two whole thief stories for good measure!”

“……”

Enchō finally burst out laughing, clutching his stomach.
Of all places to go to a nursing home and tell stories about homelessness and freezing to death—it was beyond belief.

“Hey, Master.”
“Why’re you laughin’?”
“That’s unsettlin’…”

“Never mind that.”
“More importantly, Entarō, I’m the one who asked you yesterday to go perform rakugo at the Etchūjima nursing home for their year-end event.”
“And yet you went and ended up at the most outrageous place possible, didn’t you?”
“And on top of that, you’re telling me you went and performed thief stories there too?”
“Well, take a good look at those written instructions.”

Chuckling quietly, Enchō set aside Venerable Tesshū’s half-folded sheet and plopped the official document wrapped in hōsho paper that had been beneath it in front of Entarō—who cautiously opened it and gasped, “Ah!”
Even Entarō was startled.
He couldn’t help but go pale.

In recognition of your extraordinary act of performing an extended rakugo show free of charge for the inmates of this prison on this occasion, we hereby present one large cloisonné medal painstakingly crafted by model prisoners.

Director of Ishikawajima Prison

Month Day Inokuma Hidenori [Seal]

Mr. Tachibanaya Entarō

Ugh.
Even though I'd been convinced until this very moment it was Etchūjima nursing home.
Would you look at this—I went and ended up entertaining at Ishikawajima Prison instead.
And to think I delivered that passionate marathon rakugo about thieves right before those prisoners.

“No no no, Master!”
“No wonder I thought it was a nursing home—there were only a bunch of young and old fellows milling about!”
“Urgh, that’s creepy.”

The moment he stood up dramatically and shuddered,

“Ah, dang it!”

With a light stumble, Entarō squarely overturned the teapot at his feet.
The tea sloshed out, and in moments, Venerable Tesshū’s half-folded sheet began soaking through from the edges in complete silence.

“It’s getting wet! Hurry up and move it out of the way!”

Even Enchō furrowed his brows.

“S-sorry.
But it’s okay, Master.
Look! I’m properly lifting it up like this, see?”

As if he’d captured a demon king, Entarō was firmly holding up the teapot with both hands.

“Oh, that’s not it, Mr. Entarō—it’s not the teapot.”
“It’s this half-folded sheet over here!”

When had she returned? O-Yae came bustling from the adjoining room, her red sash tied briskly, and as if to shove Entarō aside, she leapt toward the drenched half-folded sheet. Lifting its soaked edges with utmost care, she carried it to the veranda and laid it out in the sun.
Her tomboyish, well-defined profile bathed in the morning sun shone with a rosy hue.

“I’m sorry! I sincerely apologize!”

But Entarō himself remained holding up the teapot all the while, apologizing over and over without end.

“Love’s Garment”

“I cannot begin to express my apologies.”
“I’ll be truly careful from now on.”
“I beg your forgiveness.”

After finishing tidying up, Entarō prostrated himself like the Hiragumo tea bowl and apologized.
But Enchō had already resumed his earlier expression as if nothing had happened, warming his hands over the elegant brazier.

“It’s fine, Entarō.”
“Since this happens every time, the household has grown accustomed to it.”
“Do mind yourself when visiting others’ homes.”
“You’re twice as scatterbrained as most folks.”

“I sincerely apologize.”

Entarō found himself resenting his very being.
If only there were a hole to disappear into.
He truly felt that way.

“Well now, here’s your reward.”

Five twenty-sen coins clattered down before his prostrated form alongside Enchō’s voice.

“Y-You’re joking, Master! There’s no reward deserved after such failure!”
“Don’t go makin’ me all slack like that!”

“Not makin’ you slack, I tell you.”
“The reward was false—truth is, I’ve business with that yen.”
“You were a carpenter once, yes?”
“How ’bout returning to those days and crafting me a one-tō measure?”

“One-to rice measure.”
"Huh! So a one-to measure, Master—that’s ten times a one-shō measure, right?"

“That’s right.”

“Ten times a one-shō measure, huh?”

Closing his round eyes for a while, Entarō was calculating in his head, but,

“Right, that’s perfectly fine, sir.”
“I shall deliver it without fail by tomorrow morning, sir.”

“I’ve placed my trust in you.”
“And if there’s any other money you need, I’ll give you as much as you want, you hear?”
“Just say so without hesitation, you hear?”

“Understood.”
“Well then, Master, tomorrow morning—”

The unexpected joy of securing spring pocket money.
Entarō was overjoyed.

“Ah, Entarō.”
“I have another request.”
“And since I’ve got you here—one more thing.”
“Could you put up a shelf in the kitchen?”

“Easy as pie.”
“I’ll hang it right away.”

Here was his chance to demonstrate loyalty—with a fluid motion, Entarō rose to his feet.
A komo-gatsuri straw decoration had been set down with a heavy thud, and when he entered the large kitchen where ring-shaped ornaments and Shichi-Go-San festival decorations lay scattered about, the carpentry tools were neatly arranged there.
O-Yae brought two shelf boards with a bright smile.

“Alright, let’s do this!”

Holding the shelf board in his left hand, a hammer in his right, and three or four nails in his mouth, Entarō went to the plank wall between Kōjin-sama and the rat-proof container and quickly installed a shelf.
Once he had fully put it up, he stepped back two or three ken to observe his work before approaching again to inspect it from every angle and giving a satisfied nod.

“It’s done,” he announced to his master.
“I’ll get started on that one-to rice measure right away.”

He called out toward the inner room and left just like that.

“Well, a mochi shop knows mochi best.”
“I must say he’s quite skilled at this work though.”

The joy of seeing Entarō perform proper man's work for the first time.
She hurriedly brought out a large mortar and three or four deep-rimmed bowls, then proceeded to place them one after another on the shelf.
And then, right at that moment—
With a creak as if a screw had loosened, the shelf tilted and clattered down with a crash.
All the Seto ware except the mortar shattered into tiny fragments on the wooden floor and scattered everywhere.

Oh!
O-Yae stared fixedly at the miserable bowl fragments and slovenly fallen shelf board still lying where they’d dropped, then eventually muttered softly to herself.

Truly, that man was utterly hopeless at anything besides performing on stage.
So unless someone proper like a guardian deity looked after him, he'd never get anywhere in life.
Thinking she could become that guardian deity herself, O-Yae startled at her own boldness.
Had someone peeked into her heart like this?
She glanced around furtively, but of course, nobody was there.

She hurriedly picked up the fallen shelf.
Then she took the hammer that had been placed on top of the pot lid.

Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
She brought it back to where it had been, and when she drove nails into both ends, the shelf was rehung without difficulty.
Next, she boldly tried placing five or six mortars and other bowls on it.
The shelf still showed no sign of falling, and all the Seto ware she had placed on it remained securely positioned with a clang.

“Heh.”

Even O-Yae couldn’t hold back her amusement.
As she collected the bowl fragments onto her spread-out sleeve, she began chuckling.

As for the one-to measure—

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap—Thunk.

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap—Thunk.

Around that time, in his own room in Shin-Fukutomi-chō—a single four-and-a-half-tatami-mat space—Entarō had tied a tie-dyed hand towel around his head as a sweatband and was swinging a hammer with one shoulder bared.
Seventy-four one-shō measures had been neatly arranged in front.
To say "seventy-four" in one breath was simple enough, but seventy-four one-shō measures arrayed together formed quite the spectacle—an awe-inspiring sight indeed.

A one-to measure is ten times a one-shō measure.

Even if he understood this in theory, he couldn’t truly grasp it without seeing them actually arranged.
So Entarō went to a familiar hardware store, paid the rental fee, and borrowed this many.

He lined up the borrowed one-shō measures ten at a time in neat rows across all four sides.
In no time, a perfect square reminiscent of the Great Wall took shape, each side surrounded by ten one-shō measures. Then, to prevent collapse upward, he stacked ten measures on each of the four corners.
It reached such a height that one had to look up.

All right, all right.
This should do.
Smirking self-satisfiedly, he measured the dimensions.

Behold!
A preposterously large estimate took shape—five shaku in vertical height and one ken in horizontal length.
Well then, maybe I should get inside this square and get to work.
Entering the exact center of the square and sitting in a wide cross-legged position, Entarō impatiently began hammering.
Using thick boards he’d secured through a deferred payment agreement with an advance deposit, he first diligently constructed the base section.
Before long, he had completed a base resembling two large chopping boards put together.
Immediately laying it out, he plopped down with a thud.
However, these materials sure cost a lot of money.
I never thought it'd be this damn expensive!
Without delay, he set to work on the four corners this time.
After carving out one section on the east side, he swiftly nailed it to the base.
He moved on to the north side.
That one was done.
He nailed it again.
He completed the west side as well, and with this, it seemed that three sides resembling a wooden enclosure had somehow taken shape.

Alright, just one more.
Summoning his last ounce of courage, he began vigorously scraping the south side board.
After finishing the scraping, he immediately nailed it with a tap-tap-tap-tap—thunk.
As the four corners were sealed off, the space before his eyes suddenly grew dim. Peering upward through the gloom, he found himself sitting small within a measure that seemed twice the size of a coffin.

Done! Done!
Entarō was delighted.

Alright, I'll take a bath now and wash off this sweat.
He hurriedly stood up and tried to climb out by grabbing the eastern edge, but it was too high to get out.
Oh no.
He tried going around to the west side, but found no difference.

Oh dear.
Both the north side and south side were useless.
No matter what he tried, he couldn't escape.
However long he struggled, nothing changed.
Little by little, dusk began settling around him.
The room grew darker.

"No good, no good, this is no good!"
Entarō grew increasingly restless—
"Someone—someone come here!"
“Neighbor Auntie!”
“Hurry up and bring a ladder—”
Finally worked up, he started shouting.

“Off with his head!”

The next morning.
When Enchō saw this monstrous one-to measure—resembling a stationary bathtub transported by large handcart—he was utterly appalled.

“Wh-what the hell is this, you—?!”

“It’s a one-to measure.”

Entarō looked rather pleased with himself.

“A one-to measure?”
“That’s absurd!”
“You—does such an absurd one-to measure even exist?!”

“But Master, you said that yesterday, didn’t you?”
“A one-to measure is ten times a one-shō measure!”

“Oh.”

“So after that, I borrowed lotsa one-shō measures from a place I’m acquainted with, arranged ten each vertically an’ horizontally at the four corners, an’ built it using those measurements.”
“So there ain’t no mistake here.”

“Unbelievable—even from you.”

Enchō said.

“No—”
“While a one-to measure is indeed ten times a one-shō measure, ‘ten times’ refers to measuring ten times the actual contents inside.”
“But you went and made the exterior ten times larger—that’s how this absurd monstrosity came to be!”

“Ah, got it.”
“Ten times the contents?”
“Had I known that, I wouldn’t have bought all these planks.”
“Well then, Master—since I took twenty sen as a deposit, I’ll return this much.”

Entarō took out four twenty-sen silver coins from his clasp purse.

“No need, no need.”

Flustered, Enchō pushed it back.

“I’m not telling you to return the money you spent.”
“Keep it, keep it.”
“That’s New Year’s pocket money I gave you.”

“I see, Master… But somehow…”

“That’s fine, but Entarō. You’re some master carpenter, ain’tcha? That shelf you put up yesterday—that one came crashin’ down too.”

“Huh?”

Entarō’s round eyes grew even rounder.

“That’s all well and good, but when O-Yae fixed it, she got it hung right away, and this time it won’t fall down at all.”

What a pathetic turn of events.
So did O-Yae-chan clean up the mess from the shelf I hung?
Ah, so that girl’s gotten fed up with me and hasn’t shown her face this morning.

“But Master, there’s no way that thing would fall down, I tell ya.”

With lingering reluctance, Entarō said.

“But you—what’s fallen can’t be helped. If even a woman like O-Yae could hang it properly, there’s no way a man—let alone a carpenter like you—couldn’t manage it.”

Enchō laughed.

“But that can’t be...”
“There’s just no way that’s true, and yet...”

He kept tilting his head in thought for a while longer before finally clapping his hands with a pop.

“Ah! I’ve got it, Master! Then why don’t you try putting something on the shelf I hung?”

“Hey, hey—cut it out! This is ridiculous.”
“In this world, is there even such a thing as a shelf you can’t put things on?”

Utterly exasperated, Enchō stopped saying anything altogether and simply blinked his narrow eyes repeatedly for a while, but—

“Ah, never mind that talk.
“The formal crested kimono’s laid out here, so hurry up and put it on.
“We’re headin’ straight to Ōmi-sama’s year-end rakugo performance gathering.
“Listen up—I’ll go change too.”

Having given his instructions, he went into the back.

Before long, the two prepared individuals left the house at Daichi-gashi.
Following reverently behind Enchō, who wore a black formal kimono adorned with three fan crests, Entarō shouldered a large wrapping cloth containing rakugo props and headed east across Ryōgoku Bridge.
They hurried to Ōmi-sama’s residence in Yokomian.
The residence of Marquis △△, colloquially known as Ōmi-sama—at the riverbank edge of Yokomian, the famous red gate could be seen.
Through the entrance of that red gate, Enchō and his attendant entered.

When they requested guidance, the steward promptly led them to the assigned backstage rest area.
But Entarō couldn't stay put there.
He had to immediately begin setting up the rakugo performance.
Carrying the large wrapping cloth he'd brought, he headed to the stage and decorated it with the formal curtain, distant-view backdrop, and prop rice sheaves.
Then with cocky swagger, he climbed up to the transom and—gripping the iron hammer in his clumsy hands once more—hammered clanging blows into the standing trees, moon-shaped lantern holder, and both sleeves.

Being up this high made my head spin，and my legs were clattering and trembling something fierce．Wrapping one hand around the pillar in a desperate grip，he tried to better secure the largest cedar tree prop—but as he started swinging the iron hammer with his other hand，there was a ripping sound．His padded sleeve caught on a small branch，tearing badly．Oh no! When he flinched，his hands went slack，and the iron hammer slid smoothly between his fingers，falling downward．This ain’t good—one thing after another．Entarō clicked his tongue in frustration．

It was then.
A well-mannered boy of about ten—resembling an imperial court doll—wearing a Fujinando-crested kimono with toy-like swords at his waist and no attendants in tow came scampering out.
Swiftly lowering his gaze toward the child,

“Hey kid—”

……

The boy stopped and looked up at him with a puzzled expression.

“Perfect timing, boy.”
“Sorry ’bout this, but could ya pick up the iron hammer at your feet for me?”

Puckering his mouth, Entarō used the tip of his lips to gesture toward where the iron hammer lay.

“This one?”

As he was told, the boy picked up the iron hammer and reached his hand toward Entarō.

"That’s it, that’s it!"

He clamped it between the big toe of his right foot, which he had thrust out,

"Thanks, kid. Later, Uncle’ll buy you loads of tasty peanuts."

“You idiot, cut it out!”

Just as the dumbfounded boy had disappeared down the corridor, Master San'yūtei Enchō came rushing in, his face deathly pale.

“What kind of stunt are you pulling, Entarō! Is there anyone in the world as ill-mannered as you?”

Enchō had happened to be about to enter for a prop check when he witnessed this commotion from the adjoining room.

“Was that not our young lord just now?”

……

“To make a noble person handle the hammer and then receive it with your toes—what unspeakable conduct!”

……

“What’s more—‘Uncle’ll buy you peanuts later, young lord.’ Since when would the young lord of Ōmi-sama partake in such common fare? I nearly had heart failure listening!”

Cold sweat glistened on Enchō’s forehead, his breathing grown alarmingly ragged.

“Terribly sorry… Truly at a loss here…”

Finally, the gravity of the situation began to dimly dawn on Entarō as well, and he lowered his head from his perch on the transom.

“What good is apologizing to me? Depending on how this goes, you could be executed on the spot!”

Enchō said dispiritedly.

……

But even when told this, Entarō didn't change his expression one bit.
He merely tilted his head in puzzlement.

"This ain't no joke—you're facing summary execution!"

Enchō interjected again.

"Is that so? Summary execution, eh? Well, that's just fine by me."

He grew all the more composed.

"What the—this bastard's acting all calm about getting executed!"

With an expression of utter disbelief, Enchō—

"Entarō, do you even know what summary execution means?"

“…………”

Without a word, he shook his head from side to side.

“Let me explain,”
“Listen up good and proper.”
“Summary execution means—a new blade’s trial cut.”
“Your head and torso will be parted from each other, I tell you.”

The moment Enchō told him this with a look of utmost terror,

“Guh!
“My head and torso would be separated?”
“Th-th-that’s…”
“M-Murderer—”

Entarō screamed, his entire body stiffening as he stood there rolling his eyes back and raising both hands—an unbearable spectacle.
Clatter-clatter-clang! Crackle-crash-bang-smash!
His body fell supine into the beautiful props from a theatrical story, reducing everything around to complete chaos.

“Forgive me, Master! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

Even as he said this, Entarō scrambled to his feet and dashed off like a startled rabbit.

That evening,

“It was my mistake to have kept driving someone as utterly ridiculous as you like some low-ranking underling for so long.”

That evening, at the substitute residence, Enchō said pensively to Entarō, who still looked pale.

“Only when a man like you becomes a full-fledged top-ranked performer will people even praise the very foolishness of your humanity.”
“As long as you keep languishing as some low-ranking underling like this, you’ll forever and ever be treated as a fool.”

“…………”

“If we consider this in terms of Japan’s current national affairs, the same principle would apply.”
“For example, universal conscription—”

Enchō began to say, then abruptly clamped his mouth shut.
For he had realized that the meaning of such Chinese-derived terms as “universal conscription” was something Entarō could never possibly comprehend.

“While they say all citizens are soldiers, those unsuited for such physical demands will serve the country through honorable service by devoting themselves to their own trades.”
“That applies to you too.”
“You should abandon your second-level apprentice’s petty training and devote yourself wholeheartedly to your art—there’s no better path than sweating blood for your craft.”

“…………”

“Truly, you’re a born rakugo artist.”
“Every single thing you do transforms into rakugo.”
“I’ve taken in quite a variety of disciples over the years, but never before have I encountered anyone as peculiar as you and that late Ponta.”

Enchō laughed.
Ponta had been an eccentric who remade a mosquito net into a kimono and fastened the rings from its four corners in place of a family crest with perfect composure.

“Fortunately, even today’s blunder of yours ended well because Lord Ōmi, being versed in commoners’ circumstances, laughed it off.”

“…………”

Ah, thank goodness.
Entarō couldn’t help but feel profoundly relieved from the very core of his being.

“Starting today, I won’t be assigning you any more menial apprentice-level tasks—focus wholeheartedly on your art with peace of mind.”
“Mark my words.”
“Though it’s called this month, it’s already the last day—starting with the New Year’s lower-tier performances, you’ll be a top-ranked performer.”
“At the Tachibana family in Ryōgoku, we’ll put up your performance placard.”

“Eh?”

Entarō couldn't believe his ears.
A top-ranked performer.
I... am a top-ranked performer.
It was unthinkable.
It was like a dream.
Grateful.
A bright, celebratory feeling—as if a halo were radiating from him—began to well up.

“Therefore, you—”
“A top-ranked performer can’t rise properly if he keeps smoldering without a wife.”
“You need yourself a guardian deity.”
“I’ll find you a proper one.”

Peering into Entarō’s face, Enchō said. He bore the demeanor of someone who found this disciple so utterly endearing he couldn’t contain himself. The master’s warm sentiments flowed profoundly into Entarō’s chest, and a tingling heat welled up at the corners of his eyes.

“You know O-Matsu-san from Torigoe, don’t you?”

Enchō said.
O-Matsu from Torigoe was an ukiyobushi performer already well into her late forties.
She was reputed to have grown quite plump while amassing a tidy nest egg.

“I know O-Matsu-san well.”

“Though she’s too far apart in age from you, since she’s apparently looking for a husband, when I broached the subject, she went and turned down someone like Mr. Entarō here.”

Enchō laughed with amusement.

Good grief.
If that plump O-Matsu’s turned me down, there’s no helping it.
A mocking laugh naturally rose to Entarō’s lips as well.

“And then there’s O-Fune from Shinnai.”
“O-Kyō the hand-dance performer.”
“Harunosuke the conjuror.”
“I asked around various people, but they’re neither here nor there, y’know.”

…………

Hmph.
They've all probably been dismissed by their previous masters anyway—not that there's anything funny about it.
Inwardly, Entarō was sulking.

“…………”

“But you know, for every god that casts you aside, there’s another who lifts you up.”
“The world works in amusing ways, isn’t it?”
“Take that Tokiwazu’s Mojisute over there.”

Things were getting dire.
“Tokiwazu’s Mojisute is fifty-eight, mind you.”

“It was when that Mojisute pointed it out that I realized…”

Oh—so she wasn’t Granny Sute after all?
Entarō felt slightly relieved.

“You—how’d you feel about marrying our O-Yae, huh? O-Yae’s the one who’s saying she absolutely wants you to take her.”

“That’s a lie—quit messin’ with me! But... but Master, that’s...”

“No, O-Yae has fallen for your art. She’s enamored with the quality of your artistry. That girl’s the spirited type. That’s why she says she actually dislikes a man who’s so attentive there’s not a moment’s lapse—one who notices every little thing.”

“……”

“First of all, while other rakugo artists kept trying to win her favor by bringing things they thought would please her—‘Oh, a hairpin!’ ‘How about this comb?’—you alone never said a single word to O-Yae.”
“And yet that girl finds that very point remarkably dependable.”

“……”

It wasn’t that I didn’t say anything.
Thinking I wasn’t qualified at all, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything from the start.
Entarō gave a wry smile.

“So you’ll marry O-Yae for me, then.”
“You’ve got no objections, have you?”

Enchō solemnly continued his words.

“Y-You’re joking, Master.”
“Far from objecting—I’ve already…”

Entarō was soaked through with sweat from joy.
He couldn’t help but bubble with elation at this bolt-from-the-blue happiness.

“Banzai—”

“Banzai—”

At that moment, voices of “Banzai” rose like the sound of ocean waves.
Then came a booming drumbeat: boom-ba-boom-boom.
Fireworks were vigorously launched somewhere.
What was all that commotion about?
There was no way they were celebrating just ’cause O-Yae-chan and I were getting married.

“A carriage! A carriage!”

“It’s a horse-drawn carriage!”

The voices of many people came flowing.

“Entarō.”
“A horse-drawn carriage seems to be coming through.”
“I saw one the day before yesterday on the brick-paved street.”
“Since it might prove useful for you somehow, come on now—hurry over to Kayamachi Street and take a look.”

Enchō said with deep consideration, surveying from above the brightness of the main street glimpsed between roofs in the deepening twilight of a December night while he gazed down.

Inauguration Banzai!

When Entarō stood at the back of the crowd packed tightly in two or three rows, there erupted another roar of commotion from the direction of Asakusa Mitsuke, and the toot-toot-toot of foreign-style trumpets flowed forth alongside the doleful clatter of carriages.

Involuntarily gulping, Entarō held his breath.
From within the cold night wind, the sweet, fragrant scent of black hair swiftly brushed past his nose.

"Oh, when he looked beside him,

“...O-Yae-chan.”"

A starkly white face, visible even in the darkness, revealed its beautiful contours as it bloomed like a grand flower.

“Oh!”

She hurriedly bowed but then kept her gaze downcast. Unlike her usual spirited self, tonight she seemed too excited to even hear Entarō’s words.

Toot-toot-toot-too-toooot!
At this moment, the blare of trumpets grew even closer, and a stylish horse-drawn carriage came clattering along, packed to the brim with passengers.
The driver in a Scotch suit sat properly on the coachman’s seat and, occasionally blowing his trumpet with one hand as if suddenly remembering, called out to elderly people attempting to cross the street,

“Hey, Granny! It’s dangerous!”

he scolded in a loud voice.
It was civilization incarnate, enlightenment made manifest.
The people were deeply moved and erupted in fervor.
In the crucible of excitement, the trumpets kept blaring incessantly.

“How splendid.”

O-Yae’s almond-shaped eyes glistened with moisture.

“Magnificent... This is truly something.”

At some point, while pressing his shoulder snugly against O-Yae’s, Entarō murmured contentedly.
He was filled with an indescribable sense of happiness.
He felt as though he’d sprouted three inches taller overnight.
And in the next instant—his own—Entarō’s magnificent artistic desire began to surge up from his head.

It was through seeing with his own eyes this resplendent horse-drawn carriage—a veritable symbol of Japan’s ceaseless daily progress toward civilization.
It was through hearing with his own ears the horse’s neigh that seemed to proclaim a progressive nation’s splendor, and the clatter of carriage wheels.
A brisk new wind of the times streamed across the horse-drawn carriage itself.
And then it could not help but hurl a fluttering sensation into the chest of a man like Entarō.
It was an indescribable excitement that made his eyelids burn and tingle.
It was exhilarating.

That’s it.
When I put up my signboard next month, I’ll get up on that stage, blow a real trumpet, and do an impression of this horse-drawn carriage’s driver.
And so, I too shall celebrate this beautifully civilized form of Japan—at least through my own modest art.
The instant he thought this, Entarō made a motion of cracking a whip with his right hand and pressed his left hand to his mouth as if it were a trumpet.
At first glance, he had transformed into a coachman.
In time, he came to be celebrated as Trumpet Entarō, taking the world by storm, and it was only fitting that the name Entarō Carriage endured even into the Shōwa era of today.

Making “toot-toot-too” trumpet sounds with his mouth, Entarō pushed and shoved through the swarming crowd,

“Granny! Granny! It’s dangerous!”

and dashed off toward the substitute lot.

Afterwards, O-Yae dashed out through the night mist in the same manner, her face beautifully flushed.