Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Hori Tatsuo The woman smiled at me so warmly that I couldn’t help but follow her. Everything was already asleep. Only the wind remained awake. But even that wasn’t strong enough to stir the scraps of paper scattered throughout the town. It was more like a flow of air. It pushed me from behind. While closing my eyes and letting myself be pushed by it, I felt intense fatigue. The woman walked about ten steps ahead of me—was she too fatigued like I was? Was she also closing her eyes and surrendering to the flow of air? The woman and I passed through countless streets in a town darker than night. I no longer knew where I was walking. And it seemed only this night’s airflow was giving us a single direction. The houses were all closed up. Even when a light occasionally glowed in a window, it vanished as we drew near, as though fearing us. We walked on like that, just the two of us, but I couldn’t tell whether the woman knew I followed behind. To such an extent did she walk slowly, indifferent to everything. Not only that—there were moments when even I forgot about the woman I followed. Sleep occasionally passed through us. Each time it did, I walked while asleep. But sleep passed through me so quietly that I hardly noticed.

We emerged into a square. Suddenly, a car sounded its siren to pass us. That awakened me. Then I suddenly started to feel a sleepiness I had hardly been aware of until that moment. Sleep clung persistently to my hands and feet. And once again, before I knew it, my eyes began to close. This time, the cold air forced them open. We were crossing a long bridge. The water beneath the bridge wasn’t moving at all. Dead waves, waves with limbs stiffened, mummified waves—the trees lining the riverbank cast shadows far larger than ours. Our shadows were occasionally swallowed up within them. A feeble word escaped my lips. Where are we going? Yet despite my intense fatigue, it seemed to me that more air and more walking were necessary. I followed the woman once again into the town darker than night. Then suddenly, a white dog came darting out from a street corner. It must have known her. It circled around her while sniffing her, seemingly happy. She continued onward, letting it freely chew on the hem of her kimono as she went. Then the woman suddenly stopped in front of a small, shabby house. And leaving the dog there, without even a glance back, she disappeared into the small house.

Then the dog obediently huddled within the eerie-shaped shadow of that house. As if believing she would come out again soon. That sight gave me—who was on the verge of losing direction once more—a glimmer of hope. I too stopped in that spot—a short distance from the small house. And decided to wait for her to emerge. At that moment, as if recognizing me for the first time, the dog cautiously began to approach. And sniffed at me. I let out a sigh while exchanging gazes with it. Before long, even the dog suddenly grew overly familiar and lay down at my feet. And no longer tried to leave that spot. As for me—I felt I could no longer continue walking by my own strength alone. And the flow of air that had been pushing me from behind until just now seemed to have somehow ceased. I felt a new fatigue. I was extremely sleepy. I sometimes fell asleep standing there. I dreamed. Yet that dream soon spilled out from my brief sleep. And collided with reality as though tripping over a pebble. However short that dream might be, to me it could only seem like a long dream. I dreamed through every hour of the day.

I even dream the present. And there, dream and reality overlap. I cannot distinguish where the dream begins and ends, and where reality does. I sometimes hear a small bird singing somewhere, and then I hear my own heart beating.

Everything is like this. Dreams do not change by chance. It changes in accordance with the posture assumed by the sleeper. In that way, did all these things change? Could it be that everything exists for my sake—for me who sleeps standing with eyes open even in broad daylight?

Everything is…

It was a baseball field. Here, one could see all sorts and kinds of people. People clapping their hands in delight; people with faces flushed crimson as they shouted abuse; people sitting silent as if in despair; women who kept smiling as they watched them all; and then there I was in the midst of these people, dozing off with my back basking in the sun. Suddenly, a new commotion replaced the previous one. It awakened me.

The crack of the bat, the ball soaring away, players chasing after it, the blue sky, the sun. Then once again I closed my eyes without any emotion. The commotion around me only pleasantly agitated my dreamlike state. It seemed someone was calling my name. I half-opened my eyes and turned toward the direction of the voice. That was Mari. She muttered words I couldn't make out beside me, endlessly. Then she suddenly brought her face close to mine and told me to come to Café Ritz in three hours no matter what. I looked at the wristwatch. 3:15. I knew she had a pathological interest in the precision of time. “At 6:15, right?” She left my side so swiftly I had no chance to ask her again—as if angered by me. I watched her retreating figure for a moment. Then I looked around at the many men watching her retreating figure just as I did and was belatedly surprised. How many men were seized by a shared emotion merely at the sight of her! I enumerated one by one the things people had told me about her. She was bewitching. She was wealthy. She engaged in pleasant conversation.

She has never once made a sullen expression. She is fond of sports. She swims skillfully. But she cannot love men—they add. The one phrase that people inevitably append in the end. Is that the truth? Or is that nothing more than people’s slander? At times like this, I could not help but think that it might be true. That was because Kita had been floating in my mind since earlier.

That was last night. Kita said he would walk me home and followed along. He seemed to be terribly afraid of being alone. And when we were finally about to part, he at last revealed his "black thoughts" to me. “But doesn’t Mari love you?” I said. “That woman doesn’t care about me at all—even if I die.” As I listened to him speak with such despair, I recalled my own crisis from a year ago.—A hopeless confusion within the heart temporarily renders a youth utterly powerless. He resolved to commit suicide. However, before drinking the chemical, he burned the photos and letters he had been tormented by his inability to part from. At the same time, he noticed the confusion inside him had suddenly begun to organize itself. And gradually, he began to feel that there was no need for suicide. He attempted to live again.

—There around me were several young men. I was there. And there before me was Kita, who appeared to have completely given himself over to despair. So I averted my eyes from his despairing expression in that moment—to avoid feeling unnecessary worry—and simply said, “I’ll be going.” That had still been only last night’s affair. But what was he doing now? Even so—Mari! You heartless creature! Was what people said about her really true? ……I gazed at her in the distance. From where I stood, I couldn’t make out her eyes, mouth, or nose. They all burned together like flames.

Evening finally came. And the game ended. People stood up and began to walk away. I waited until the ground was completely empty and stood up last. In the meantime, I lost sight of Mari. I followed after the people, exhausted and hanging my head. But to me, even the people ahead seemed as though they themselves did not know where they were trying to go. And yet I followed after them. Because there was no other way. For all I had to do was wait slowly for night to come. And when that night finally came, I discovered that the people around me were vanishing into the night one by one, as if dust entered darkness and disappeared.

6:15.

I entered a small restaurant. Right behind me, Mari also entered. We ate. “I’m hungry.” As she said that, she slurped her soup noisily. She roughly clattered her fork and knife. And she restlessly moved her teeth. She only stopped chewing to talk, trying to keep me from getting bored. I laughed aimlessly while constantly watching and listening to her. As one waiter tried to take away the dishes she had scattered about, Mari said something to tease him. Then that waiter, grinning with an unpleasant look, turned to look back at her. While watching that, I became a bit uncomfortable. I recalled—to such an extent—the words one of my friends had once used to unjustly slander her. That friend would say: “She’s a flirt.” “She’s a fool.” “She can only have vulgar conversations.” “She sleeps with anyone.” “The only ones not sleeping with her are probably just you and me.” I waited for the waiter to leave, then asked with a slightly serious expression.

“Have you met Kita since then?” “No, I haven’t met him.” “…” “…” The conversation tried to rise like smoke from us and slip away. I couldn’t let it slip away.

“He was saying terrible things about you.” “That’s right.”

“You…” “You don’t need to say such things.” “I know.” “That person must have said that, right?” “They say I’m arrogant.” “And that they despise that person.” “But it’s not just that person.” “Everyone says that.” “I’m the one mocking myself for being told such things by people.” Within her as she chattered，there was something unfamiliar. Then she fell silent. And so she made no attempt to speak until the meal ended. At times，there was something unfamiliar within women. That was what captivated me. However，that did not last as long as I desired. All things immediately became clear. And as if through a magnifying glass，I could clearly see the hearts of women. Mari took out a small mirror from a handbag and began to stare at it. I knew that it was not to fix makeup but to know the time. She could know the elapsed time with her own face as if it were a clock.

We left the restaurant. Then Mari suddenly became animated. However, now that we had started walking side by side, I couldn't properly see what expression she was making. She said.

“I’m going on a trip tonight.” “Hmph.” “I’m going alone.” “Hmph.” “I haven’t decided where to go yet.” “But first I’ll go to Kobe.” “I’ll wander around that town and think about where to go.” “You’d better keep quiet about such things.” “I might come after you.”

“If you like, you can come.” No sooner had she uttered those final words than she swiftly hailed a car and leapt inside. With a sharp clack, she shut the door— as if fearing I might follow. Then through the glass, she bid me farewell. She smiled, but that smile struck me as both spiteful and terribly hesitant.

Mari, you—a single unfamiliar woman!

The farther I walked away from you now, the more I thought of you as I went. Night and the city, the city of night.

The many women passing me by. Those women all looked exactly alike. At least to me, they could only be seen as identical. But you alone were different from everyone else. There was indeed something unfamiliar inside you. You captivated me like plants from regions I’d never visited captivate a traveler.

He caught a whiff of something resembling that scent. He perceived a phantom plant before him. He tried to touch it. Then it receded like the horizon. Mari! How close you are to me. And yet how far you are from me. Are you already on the train? And while pressing my forehead against the windowpane, do you think that I am thinking of you? Or have you already fallen asleep? Ah, am I beginning to love you? No—I do not love you as men love women, nor as Kita loved you. The reason you captivate me is because there is something unfamiliar within you. I desire you only to know that. I desire you only to pull myself away from your charm. Do I want to go on a trip chasing after you? Or am I thinking of you because I want to go on a trip? I cannot answer that. I might as well stop thinking about you altogether. I will think about Kita, who is suffering for your sake, in order not to think about you.

Now that you mention it, I felt as though Kita was waiting for me somewhere. I had to search for Kita. And how many times did I turn street corners with futile expectations and peer into bars?

I finally found several friends in a certain bar. I entered. “Don’t you all know Kita?” Everyone turned toward me as if angered.

One of them said.

“You still don’t know? That he’s dead?” “He’s dead?” “He committed suicide last night.” I stood there as though turned to stone. I believed I was already sitting there. I dropped the hat from my hand. But I didn’t even notice that. And yet, I found it strange that I maintained a perfectly calm demeanor, showing no signs of disturbance whatsoever. Then, after some time, I began to feel a strange irritation toward Kita’s death. I didn’t clearly understand what kind of emotion that was. To me, it seemed this feeling likely stemmed from my own egoism—the egoism that made me think: *Kita didn’t need to die, yet he died; and he died solely to flaunt his suffering to those around him (especially to me)*.

“Didn’t you meet Mari?”

One of them asked me a question. I answered frankly. (In situations like this, I can only answer honestly.) That I had met her at the baseball field; that I had encountered her again at Café Ritz; that she had said she was going on a trip tonight; that she seemed to know about Kita’s death but for some reason hadn’t told me. As I said that, I noticed her suddenly becoming the object of my friends’ curiosity. They seemed to begin taking an intense interest in her. They began discussing her. Words flew. Then rapidly fell. And they did not reach anywhere. All the while, I ceaselessly heard the name “Mari” being pronounced with various accents. It sounded sometimes weighty, sometimes light, sometimes sorrowful. To them, Mari was a mysterious entity. Time flowed over us. But the one who felt it with a certain weariness was likely me alone. That was because, to me, Mari too had begun to become nothing more than just another woman. People said with surprise that she could not love men. If that were true, that would have led my friend to despair. But that same thing would probably have also made him leave that place. The reason he couldn’t leave that place was undoubtedly because she was convinced that she, like other women, loved some one man. Who was that?

I did not know who that was. And I did not even try to know. Because I no longer desired her. The unknown thing that had been within her—that was now clear to me. It was the shadow of death. And now, instead of her, it was death itself that captivated me. It was carefully approaching me. And it grabbed my arm. It made me stand up. And led me out from there. I let it do as it pleased. I inhaled something other than air along with the night air. It was as refreshing as drinking water. But it was something that gradually began to make me feel nauseous. I hit upon the idea of naming it "emptiness."

At that moment.

A woman passed by me with a friendly smile, and...

The dog that was crouching at my feet suddenly stood up and started running. That jolted me awake. I watched the dog dash into the shadow of that house with the eerie shape. Then I saw it emerge again from that shadow together with a woman. I could no longer tell whether that was the same woman as before. However, I mechanically began walking after that woman. Following the Dog’s lead. Then the Dog noticed me and would occasionally stop and turn toward me as if waiting. However, before I had walked that far—or perhaps not even that—it suddenly started running to catch up with the woman ahead, as if remembering something. Despite such actions of the Dog, the woman showed no sign of noticing me following her. She seemed to believe with absolute conviction that she was invisible to everyone. But not only could I see her—I could even keenly sense that she was walking while shaking off some sorrow. Walking side by side like that—the Woman, the Dog, and then I—we turned countless street corners. Each time we turned a street corner, it seemed to me that we were plunging deeper into a pitch-black town I did not know. All street corners are mysterious. I felt as though someone must be lying in wait beyond every street corner. Is that a robber? Is that a corpse? Or is that myself? And when I, with all my anxieties, tried to turn one such street corner—the one that looked more dismal than any other—following the Woman and the Dog, I suddenly froze there. Because I could no longer see the Woman and the Dog ahead. Because the two of them had turned that street corner a few seconds before I did and vanished without a trace.

I stood frozen there, no longer attempting to take a single step forward. To me, the darkness beyond seemed like some sort of bottomless hole. I remained motionless there indefinitely. I cannot know in what part of this city I am. However, I alone understand that I am closest to death. The wind began to blow again unnoticed. It was somewhat stronger than before. It would catch on tree branches like smoke and roll in scraps of paper from somewhere. It was like listening to eerie music. While listening to it, I gradually felt my sorrow growing more complete. Is this how I am passing the night for my dead friend? And so I, feeling on the verge of collapsing from fatigue and drowsiness yet making no attempt to leave that spot, continued staring fixedly into the eerie darkness beyond the street corner. As if seeing what is called night for the first time.