Pathway to Japanese Literature

On the long blue embankment, they stood out here and there in white clusters. The tiny wings of insects swarming around the blossoms created a fearsome hum. Rice fields stretched along the embankment. A farmer scattering lime briefly came into view. White powder flew like smoke from his fingertips. The glossy dampness of ridges skillfully plastered with fine mud contrasted sharply with the bone-dry path through the fields. Frogs croaked at full strength. Beyond the rice fields and across the riverbank lay nothing but cultivated land. Ripening wheat ears covered every inch of the fields. The wheat ears looked as fine as parched earth. Mulberry fields cut vivid swathes of deep green between them. And village woods clustered thickly to border the farmland. The distant woods lay low in an unbroken line, seeming to sink into the wheat as they traced bold contours against a sagging blue sky. The Kinugawa River kept to its normal water level as it snaked through these plains. Wagtails pecking at insect larvae flashed their white bellies while chirping busily. Twisting nimbly, they struck the water of shallows near the riverbank and leapt upward. Bathed in sunlight past noon hour, everything took on a pleasant aspect. Ofusa the hairdresser strode briskly northward along the embankment in straight lines.

Over her medium-patterned yukata was draped a white chest cover. Whenever Ofusa passed north along this embankment, it was always with elaborate preparation of her charms. The white chest cover, crisp in appearance, made the petite Ofusa look three or four years younger. She carried a small bundle containing oil, combs, and tools necessary for her profession under her left arm while holding up an umbrella in her right hand. While ordinary people weren't without a somewhat withered look, there was no sign of worry in Ofusa. When passing north along the embankment, Ofusa's face held a bright, cheerful smile. She twirled the umbrella on her shoulder as even a young girl might do. Ofusa was twenty-six. Between the short grasses lining the path, white tabi socks moved forward with vigorous energy. At the end of the embankment stood a dense forest, and from that forest, as though reaching out a hand, single-sided rows of houses lined the bank. The river curved sharply to the left. So three or four white walls made the riverbank appear lively from afar. In front of the shipping agency, under the embankment, river barges clustered together. On the slope cut diagonally into the embankment, rice bales destined for the barges were being rolled down in orderly fashion. In the vicinity, clay pipes, empty sake barrels, and assorted items continued into the shipping agency's yard, narrowing the embankment's thoroughfare. Ofusa furled her umbrella and passed through the laborers. The mischievous laborers mocked Ofusa from behind with abrupt, short phrases. However, Ofusa's ears registered nothing. And then she started walking briskly and entered the barbershop across the way. The only conceivable reason Ofusa traveled all that distance along the long embankment was because this shop existed here.

The shop was staffed by a proprietress nearing fifty, a woman in her twenties, and a girl of fourteen or fifteen. Male barbers did not work there. Ofusa exchanged glances with the proprietress and smiled with innocent sweetness. Then, from behind the customer getting his beard shaved, she caught her own reflection in the mirror and smiled sweetly again. Seeing her reflection showing the full display of her charms made Ofusa look thoroughly pleased. She placed her umbrella and bundle on the shelf with the hanging net. The proprietress and the other two were wearing white work clothes too. They were painfully soiled. Ofusa gently tapped the young girl's shoulder, briefly pinched her own starched chest cover, then pinched the girl's work clothes while letting out a strange guttural sound—once again smiling with innocent sweetness. The young girl—

“Yeah right, like that’s any of your business!” She shook her body as if trying to shake something off, stopped the hand that had been precariously handling the razor, and briefly stuck out her tongue. Ofusa adopted an attitude that seemed both teasing and coquettish, emitted another strange sound, and smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t do such a thing, O-Tami.” O-Michi, the other girl who had been using a razor, said reproachfully. O-Tami

“Yeah right, it’s totally fine!” She turned toward Ofusa and said this. The proprietress kept making snipping sounds with her scissors while using a comb to lift sections of hair, trimming the ends little by little. She used the scissors with intense concentration, her eyes narrowed. After a while, the customer who appeared to be a primary school teacher stood up holding his belongings from the shelf, having finished his haircut. Ofusa looked intently at the customer’s face. The customer cast a brief glance at the skylark cage hung from the shop’s pillar and soon left. The figure in Western clothes and geta grew distant beyond the mirror’s surface before slipping out of view. Ofusa was watching the teacher’s retreating figure when she made another guttural sound from deep in her throat. As the proprietress paused her busy scissors to look over, Ofusa touched her own cheek, pointed at the teacher’s back, then held up her thumb. The proprietress nodded in response. Ofusa’s manner grew restless.

“What’s the deal with that teacher?” O-Tami said while folding a white cloth and hanging it on a pole.

“Yeah right.” “She claims they look like Mr. Shō! Every time she spots a decent-looking man, she waves her thumb around making a fuss—she’s so obsessed with him she can’t think straight.”

O-Michi said. And then “Yeah, you’re right, O-Tsukasan.”

She turned toward the proprietress and said. “Then Mr. Shō’s guilty as sin.” O-Tami said something precocious. Having heard people repeating “It’s a sin, it’s a sin,” O-Tami mimicked their words. Ofusa opened the water tank’s lid and gestured to O-Tami that it was empty. Since O-Tami stood there vacantly, Ofusa lifted the bucket and started to rise.

The proprietress “O-Tami! O-Tami!”

she suddenly said in a scolding tone. O-Tami snatched up the bucket, dashed across the thoroughfare, and ran off. At the embankment's slope base, she gathered her hem all around. When that figure disappeared beneath the embankment, Ofusa too ran across the thoroughfare. And then she stood looking down at the river. From the barbershop, the river water could not be seen. The village on the opposite bank wore sparse groves' green that seemed to press against the thoroughfare's edge where Ofusa stood. Amidst the groves, two or three shoji screens flickered into view intermittently. From where the river curved, pale white water stretched vertically into the distance. The embankment Ofusa had come along ran blue as far as one could see. From its distant end now rose two white sails. The white-feathered bantam appeared from beneath the embankment near Ofusa's feet. Its tail - so full it nearly touched its comb - fluttered lightly in the soft breeze. With a shrill cry, the rooster crowed. Arching backward and opening its beak, its small throat strained as if splitting while crying two or three times. Then while its white tail fluttered in the wind, the bantam hid itself in the embankment. It walked through the embankment's midsection scraping green grass with its feet seeking food. O-Tami came climbing up. Placing the bucket at the embankment's base and resting her hands on it, she paused wearily for brief rest. Ofusa offered O-Tami a hand and carried the bucket.

During that time, a rattling carriage kicked up dust with its hooves as it passed along the embankment road. A cart piled high like a mountain with luggage went by. A person passed through. Those that ran left their forms imprinted for an instant; those that paused remained eternally etched on the seldom-seen back of the mirror. When the traffic ceased, the mirror's reverse side lay tranquil. Only the skylark in its cage hung from the pillar nearest the entrance kept spilling millet from its bowl while battering its bristling head feathers against the ceiling net, struggling ceaselessly to stir life into the mirror's hidden face. When the water tank had been filled and more buckets brought from the river, Ofusa soaked a rag in a pail and began wiping around the tank as she moved about. Ofusa took down a lamp hanging in another corner and inspected it. She wiped smudges from the glass chimney, pulled out the wick to examine it, and trimmed it with shears. Then she hung the lamp back on its original nail and sniffed at the odor lingering on her hand.

“Really now, you shouldn’t have!”

O-Tami said this and handed her the soap. Ofusa washed her kerosene-smelling hands, then washed her face, and gazed adoringly at her reflection in the mirror. “She must be absolutely pining for Mr. Shō.” O-Michi watched with tsk-tsk clicks.

After the customers had thinned out for a while, a man strode in from behind them and plopped down into the chair, “Whoa, this beard!” He boomed in his deep voice. “Whoa, this beard!”

O-Michi promptly mimicked him.

“What’s with putting on such airs?” she laughed. The man leaned his neck against the chair and smiled. His sunburned face shone glaringly, marking him as a sturdy fellow. He wore a navy short-sleeved jacket with a three-shaku obi loosely tied at his waist. His wide-bared chest grew thick with hair. He was a boatman from the river barges. Though they’d brushed soap across his bristling beard, he kept mocking Ofusa through gestures. Ofusa made a queer, sullen face and pressed two fingers beneath her nose.

“So they’re calling you Two-Sticks now—you should’ve just kept quiet!”

O-Michi said chidingly to the boatman. He tried to say something more, but with O-Michi’s razor-holding hand pressing down on his lips, no sound came out. “I’ll slice you with this razor if you keep blabbering!”

Everyone burst out laughing. Ofusa’s face brightened once more. “Isn’t this garment a fine pattern?” O-Tami said enviously. “They say everyone gets theirs from the entrance area—truly splendid, ain’t it?” O-Michi also said. “If you want it that badly, I’ll give it to ya. If your husband’s run off, better go track ’im down.” “Quit your yapping! Here we go again.”

The two burst out laughing again after saying this. Most customers frequenting this shop were boatmen, laborers, farmers and such. In this region where rough local dialect constantly flew about, such exchanges weren't considered strange in the least. Ofusa withdrew behind the full-length mirror, untucked her uniformly raised hemline, retightened her obi sash, then stood vacantly at the shop entrance gazing far down the roadway. The proprietress' customer had finished his haircut. The white cloth now thick with hair was quietly removed as-is. Noticing this, Ofusa took the soiled cloth from the proprietress' hands and briskly shook out the hair. The proprietress draped a small towel across his front and dampened around his mouth. She then tested the razor's edge against her palm before returning to the chair's side.

“What’s with this woman—is she a mute?”

The bearded customer in his mid-thirties asked. He seemed arrogant—a man who appeared to be some sort of tax office official. “Oh, she’s mute, sir—didn’t you know?” “Nope, I don’t know.”

“She comes here often enough—there’s no one around these parts who doesn’t know her.”

“I see—though I’ve only been here two months. So something’s wrong with this woman?”

The customer, having been drawn into the nearby conversation from earlier, proceeded to inquire about Ofusa. The proprietress shaved off the left sideburn while using the razor’s edge— “She did have a husband once, but he swindled her clean, so she doesn’t think that way herself anymore.” “Where on earth does this woman think she’s—” The customer kept asking in a half-jesting manner. The proprietress, distracted by the razor, spoke with half-hearted vigor.

“This Kawaishi, you see.” “Her mother-in-law was wanton, you see.” “The one who became her mother-in-law’s husband was a sake merchant from Echigo who came and insinuated himself as a live-in son-in-law—that’s how the story went, you see.” “I don’t know the particulars too well, you see.” “They say this one was meek as a cat too, you see, so naturally his arrogance grew unchecked.” “They say he’d become a master brewer at the storehouse—though you gentlemen should know all about storehouse matters—but he was called a tōji or some such, you see.” “So when he’d work and bring things home, she’d drink and beat him during his absences, you see.” “Of course, being a man, he must’ve gotten angry at times—but I don’t know those details, you see.” “The husband was such a diligent soul and so fretful about drink that he rarely came home—so taking advantage of that absence, they say his mother set up some man for this mute here. That’s how things went—so even at her age now, once she started carrying on with that barber’s apprentice who’s like her own son or something, she’s got no worth left at all.” “So that’s why the husband—they say he left once things grew too dire. But when you compare that to those rootless types from distant provinces who can’t make clean breaks—well, it beggars belief.” “Even so, they say he left behind the property he’d prepared as provision since the child was dear—though I don’t know the particulars.” “And since the barber’s character wasn’t any better either, and her mother-in-law must’ve considered their standing some—they’d meant to cut ties with him, but well, the barber just wouldn’t say yes.” “So that’s why it’s awful, you see—they sweet-talked this mute into opening a shop here under the pretense of letting her run it.” “Around that time, they say the household managed somehow—she was twenty-four then, you see.” “She thought she’d found herself a proper man and threw herself into it, you see.” “Then her mother-in-law up and died.” “It’s clear the drinking did her in, you see.” “The barber’s name is Mr. Shō, you see—so why on earth would he stick around guarding some mute? He took in a teahouse girl, kept her at his place awhile, then lit out for Tsukuba way. But even so, she don’t think she’s been swindled one bit, you see…”

The razor glided smoothly and slowly across the jaw. The proprietress cradled the chin as if handling something precious, bent her own neck, and moved the razor. Ofusa busied herself during this time squeezing out towels from the towel pole, washing the sink, sweeping up hair clippings—her hands moving in quick little motions. O-Michi’s hands became free, and customers stopped coming for a while. Ofusa led O-Michi behind the full-length mirror. She took the bundle from the shelf and brought out the hairdressing tools. She poured hot water from the iron kettle and began kneading out the kinks in the hair. The boatman also settled behind the full-length mirror, rustling his newspaper for a time before eventually lying down sideways and drifting off to sleep.

“So when she was swindled, they say she wept buckets,” “Truly inconvenient being all alone like that, you see.” “Even so, with neighbors and kin about, folks did look after her.” “No help for it—they made her take up hairdressing as her husband’d taught.” “Well, since he’d shown her a thing or two with razors, she’s right useful now—credit where it’s due.” “Then three months on, her man up and returns—no parting them after that.” “Sweet-talked her somehow and off he went again.” “Said poverty drove him afar to earn—swore he’d come back flush to reopen shop if she saved up waiting.” “So now she’s hellbent on hoarding coin.” “At first pity moved us—extra wages, cast-off clothes.” “This very yukata’s likely charity.” “There’s the rub.” “That husband—comes regular-like to sweet-talk her purse empty.” “Thinks he visits ’cause he’s hard up—spends every last sen on him.” “Shame keeps him from village gates—meets her halfway for two-three days’ sport.” “Now we give coin but keep it from her hands.” “Told she could earn here again—comes round odd hours.” “Mornings sometimes, noonish like today—tidies here and there; helps my brood though she’s lost to folly.” “Handicapped souls clinging to husbands—hopeless.” “Won’t heed sense—tease her and trouble brews—best steer her to happy trifles………………”

The proprietress continued speaking.

“What’s that? Do you even know what kind of guy this husband is?”

The customer too seemed to have been drawn in this time. "Well now sir—that husband of hers goes by Mr. Shō, and he's quite the charmer if I say so myself. Smooth with his compliments too—truth be told, keeping company with him ain't half bad." "This shop here could do right well if only he'd straighten himself out—'course lately the higher-ups seem to've stopped cracking down on certain matters. But he's always had those vices creeping about here and there, downright aggravating they are. And let's face it—wouldn't you rather deal with someone who can string two words together proper?" "Joking aside—and this comes straight from Mr. Shō's mouth—cripples get too clingy with their affections, see? Makes things awkward. Plus they've got this coldness about 'em somehow—can't stomach it." "Still and all—not that he don't feel a speck of pity now and then, mind you—knowing she's all alone out there... Can't imagine swindling her sits right in his gut. Reckon that's why he can't help but swing by to check on her now and again."

“But isn’t he a terrible guy for taking her money like that?”

“Well, you see, sir—Mr. Shō does come by this shop without fail, but there are times when everyone teases him mercilessly and he gets quite flustered.” “It might be some pretext, but Mr. Shō claims that taking her money keeps her in good spirits, does us no harm, and even benefits both sides—so he says he’ll keep holding onto it. Yet even so, Mr. Shō doesn’t strike me as a bad man.” “He’s still only thirty-three or thirty-four at most—hardly someone to cast aside yet.” “Truly, he’s a husband who’s gone too far—but even such an overstepping husband has his uses and misuses, you see.”

The razor repeatedly glided over every part of the cheek. The proprietress, distracted by the razor, chattered away without restraint. Since he spent his days with such coarse companions, he had become thoroughly coarse himself. Ofusa bit off the end of the hair tie with her incisor teeth.

“Whenever something comes to mind, she ends up coming here, you see.” “It’s all because she’s single-mindedly determined to clean up and have her husband praise her, you see.” “That’s why she goes through all these preparations to make herself presentable, you see.” “The way she fusses over her looks—terrifying how she picked that up on her own without anyone teaching.” “Though of course, since she can’t speak proper, you might say she doesn’t really understand—but that’s how it seems, you see.” The proprietress further “No matter if he takes it or leaves it, a sin’s still a sin either way, sir.”

she continued with her final line.

The white cloth was removed from the chest. "Let me wash you, sir."

The customer rose from the chair after a long time. While wiping his smoothly shaven face, the customer suddenly saw Ofusa tying up hair beside the long brazier through the gap in the full-length mirror.

“This is quite skillful work.” A ginkgo-leaf loop topknot was formed. “She’s clever, you see. “If only she could speak, she’d be something remarkable—but what a pity…………”

While neatly wiping the seated customer’s hair, the proprietress said this. Then: “Whenever she comes by, she goes around styling everyone’s hair like this before leaving. “In return, mind you—we buy her kintsuba pastries as hairdressing payment. But who knows if that truly satisfies her? Though when you see how delighted she looks, you can’t begrudge buying them even when you needn’t.” “Must be her handicap—gives her this childish air about her.” “No two ways about it—if she were normal, even at twenty-six she wouldn’t get so taken in by mere kintsuba pastries.”

she said.

A river barge appeared to have arrived, its single white sail pressed against the embankment and coming to rest. The large white sail that covered the distant fields was grandly reflected in the mirror. The white sail slumped limply with a feeble appearance. The sail ropes seemed to have been untied, leaving the white sail to go completely limp and slide further down. A heavy thud resounded nearby beneath the embankment, like a log being dropped. Leaving only the still-standing mast behind, the mirror once again reflected the glistening river surface, the lush green embankment, and the expanse stretching from village to fields. The skylark in the mirror's reflection kept moving incessantly. The customer's hair was oiled and combed repeatedly. The proprietress took a white cloth and briskly flapped it around the collar area. The customer stroked his chin once, looked at the full-length mirror, and stood up. The proprietress poured and served tea. For a while, customers stopped coming.

Suddenly, a six-year-old little boy with half his head still unshaven came running up in tears. At the base of the entrance pillar, he kept stretching his unreachable hands toward the skylark’s cage while stomping his feet and wailing. An old woman came running up alone from behind and tried to seize the little boy. The little boy slipped free from the old woman’s grasp. The skylark flapped its wings in alarm and raised a clamor. Everyone in the shop laughed. “Here comes the ogre!” the old woman threatened. The little boy’s crying subsided slightly. Having finished styling the hair, Ofusa peeked briefly into the shop. She then made odd gestures toward the proprietress. She appeared to be urging them to give something to the child. The proprietress merely nodded in acknowledgment. At last, the little boy was led away by the old woman.

“You see, she dotes on children like this.”

“Did I say she was twenty-six?” “She looks young for her age.” “If she could speak, people would’ve made quite a fuss over her.” “They don’t meddle because she’s off-putting, you see.” “And now that she’s completely fixated on her husband, it makes them all the more reluctant.” “When did this shop move here?” “Business is booming here.”

“It’s already been two years.” “My own home lies two or three ri away—such a peculiar arrangement.” “You see, my husband was given to dissipation.” “When he kept dragging in all sorts of undesirables, I found it quite disagreeable myself.” “In the end, he broke away to this place.” “Though it was a rented property, now that we’ve taken over Mr. Shō’s full set of tools, we’re properly established.” “As for apprentices—well, girls prove more manageable, so we keep only women here. This way we get along well enough.”

“Well, runnin’ things with just women—that’s mighty impressive.” “Still, you keep in touch with the master these days?” “Oh he drops by now ’n’ then—nothin’ but trouble-makin’, though we quit proper squabblin’ long back.” “At my age, bein’ solo suits just fine.” “Ain’t that I want quarrels, mind—but when it gets too thick, I can’t keep swallowin’ ashes. Even then, when it don’t stick...folks’ll still say the woman’s at fault in the end.”

The proprietress smoked tobacco with a disheveled face.

“Even so, I do have one child, you see. Yes, that’s right—he’s a boy. In one more year he’ll graduate, so he’ll be able to work at the telegraph office. Up until now, I’ve devoted myself to supporting him—you see, he’s my only one to rely on.”

Having said this, she pressed paper into the ash pan, gave it a firm twist, discarded the tobacco-stained paper into the corner of the brazier, and blew through the packed pipe with a puff.

“This time, have O-Tami style your hair.”

The proprietress shouted. The customer "No, thank you kindly." He left with an arrogant farewell.

Ofusa was making her way back along the Kinugawa River embankment, clutching a slightly swollen bundle. She appeared quite cheerful in demeanor. The swollen bundle was kintsuba. Ofusa was holding it with great care. There was no way to accurately know Ofusa’s heart. If someone were to place pebbles, wood fragments, shards of glass, and miscellaneous items into a sealed box and rattle it vigorously, they might manage to imagine one of the contents—say, a pebble or a wood fragment—but comprehending everything inside would remain beyond their grasp. Such was Ofusa’s heart. No one could definitively claim that their imaginings about Ofusa were accurate. However, when passing along this embankment, her usual sullen appearance vanished, leaving only a brisk cheerfulness. When they thought quietly, everyone found Ofusa pitiable. When they met and spoke with her, everyone would laugh and mock. No matter who it might be, being told rumors about her husband seemed exceedingly pleasant to Ofusa. Thirty was the declining age for a woman. With her thirtieth year looming before her, Ofusa childishly walked back and forth along the embankment. A soft, cool south wind blew through the wild rose blossoms. The clear blue sky appeared as though covering the earth’s plants—like this youth—with a glass lid to protect them. The few days when the wild roses bloom are the most refreshing time of the year, a period when nothing in the surroundings stirs feelings of unease. The sun lingered as though reluctant to part from this earth even for a moment, hesitating to set. Amidst all this, only the wheat ears were tinged with a sorrowful hue. As if unable to endure the sunlight that fiercely illuminated and invigorated all things, the wheat ears were turning yellow as though scorched.

Due to the angle of the sunlight, a faint trace of their form still lingered on the wheat ears that retained a bluish tinge. The slanting sunlight peered intently at Ofusa’s childlike cheeks.

(First published in Hototogisu, Volume 12, Issue 12, September 1, Meiji 42)