Pathway to Japanese Literature

The Fourth On-Site Class Critique Meeting of the Eastern Branch of the ○○ District Education Association was scheduled to be held on Saturday, October 8th at T Village’s Second Elementary School.
The elective subject would be a combined ethics class for first through fourth grades, with mimeographed lesson plans distributed one week prior to each nearby school in quantities matching their number of teachers.

From the neighboring S Village as well, five teachers from both the main and branch schools were set to depart together.
Among them was Yazawa Matsuko, a female teacher who had not yet been at her post for a month.
“What if you were to attend as well?” When the principal posed this question, Matsuko—having naturally assumed she ought to go—replied, “I will attend.”
Even upon hearing that the mountain path measured three ri each way—six ri round trip—she showed neither particular surprise nor any sign of hesitation.

Imai Takichi, the assistant teacher seated across from her at their facing desks, recalled the previous female teacher as he observed this.
Compared to that woman—who had appeared too aged for her unmarried status, who would openly make sullen faces after shrilly scolding students, and who constantly used her “womanhood” as justification to shirk duties while gravitating toward easier tasks—Matsuko’s serene composure in calmly navigating her new circumstances without anxiety or affectation had recently become a point of interest in his monotonous life.
The previous teacher’s obstinate adherence to Christianity and habit of scrimping on expenses to deposit into postal savings—recalling these things brought an inexplicable sense of disappointment to Takichi’s heart.
Precisely because of that, Matsuko’s seemingly thoughtless manner of speaking and childlike acts of laughing with an open mouth appeared to him to brighten the staff room’s atmosphere, which hung heavy like a dusty patch of shade.

“What about you, Mr. Imai?” said the principal, a kindly smile on his face.

“Are we going just to eat rice crackers?” laughed the young assistant teacher loudly.
“I’ll certainly go.”

The principal also laughed.
The red-bearded chief instructor in his fifties also laughed.
When the previous meeting had been held at this school, Imai had single-handedly devoured all the barley crackers meant for guests before anyone else could take one.
This incident would occasionally resurface in the staff room, each time sparking renewed laughter.
Matsuko too laughed aloud upon hearing the story.

That had happened two or three days prior.

That day arrived.

It was a morning when the mid-autumn fog fell so heavily and thickly that it uniformly erased the upper halves of the thatched roofs lining the village.
In S Village, chickens crowed, babies cried, and horses neighed within the fog.

Before the gate of the elementary school nestled against the mountain, farm women carrying large buckets to fetch water from the village outskirts' water source passed by one after another, emerging from the mist and vanishing back into it. Even after the time when the sun should have risen, the fog still hadn't cleared.

Just as the principal—who had been sleeping in the duty room—finally roused himself and washed his face, old teacher Mekata from the branch school located over two ri away arrived first.
After removing his waraji straw sandals, stretching his back, and letting down his tucked-up hem, he entered the staff room. Before even exchanging greetings, he stood there making a thoroughly exasperated face and said, “What a fog this is, my goodness.”

Without delay, he took off the faded cotton crested kimono he had worn there and held it over the brazier that the janitor had just lit.
The haori was damp as if caught in a drizzle, and white steam rose in swirling eddies.
“Though it’s a path I know well, with only my feet visible, it somehow felt like I’d wandered onto some unfamiliar road,” he said.
“Well now, I’d say those ancients knew what they meant by ‘lost in a five-ri fog.’...” He kept sniffling noisily while complaining. “Even with this umbrella up, no matter how much I wipe my face, drops keep fallin’ from it.”
He was already a man past sixty, yet his official rank remained merely that of an assistant teacher.
If one were to inquire into his background, he was the descendant of someone who had served as headmaster of the feudal domain’s academy, and after the establishment of prefectural governance, he had long run a private school teaching Chinese classics—or so it was said.

When the haori was mostly dry, the female teacher arrived.
Mekata looked up and down at her outfit, his eyes widening in surprise.

“You’re wearing geta?”

“Hm?”

Looking her up and down again, he said, “Are you truly going in geta?”

“Could it really be such a bad path?”

“Wearing geta might prove rather trying, Ms. Yazawa,” called the principal from the duty room.

“Is that so?” said Matsuko, effortlessly laughing. “I’ll show you I can walk just fine in them. I’m quite accustomed to them.”

“There are slopes.”

“It’s alright, Principal.”

“Don’t say such things—you should have waraji bought now. The old man isn’t giving bad advice. Even if they say it’s three ri, that mountain path has quite a number of ascents and descents, you know.”

Having said that, Mekata wore an expression as though countless steep slopes lay before his eyes.
Matsuko laughed again.
In her heart, she imagined what sort of figure she would make if she wore waraji and walked alongside these people.
And she thought there was truly no need to go to such lengths.

As this was happening, the sound of geta clogs echoed in the entranceway, and Takichi entered.

“You too, Mr. Imai?” Mekata suddenly asked.

“What is it?”

“Are you going in geta too?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“It’s not like it matters either way, but you two—well, you’re a man so it’s fine, but if Ms. Yazawa here can’t keep walking halfway through, we’ll all leave her behind in the mountains, I tell you.”

Though his words were laughter, his heart seethed with hatred.

“That’s interesting. Let’s agree to abandon anyone who can’t keep walking first,” Takichi said loudly. “Hey, Mr. Mekata.”

Beyond the shoji screen came the clattering sound of meal preparations.
“I have no objection, but Mr. Mekata would find that rather troublesome.”
“Old folks are a different breed,” Mekata also said.

Takichi laughed childishly.

"But geta are much better for walking than shoes—though waraji are best."
"You're wearing waraji too?"

"Is it me you're asking?
"I'm wearin' waraji."

Having said that, the old man turned away.
"What unlovable people," his eyes seemed to say.

When Sasabe, the red-bearded Chief Instructor, finally entered while making excuses for his lateness, the Principal had already finished his breakfast. When he came out into the staff room wearing a high-collared Western uniform stained with dust and chalk powder, fastening the black buttons, Mekata was warming his shins—clad in woolen leggings riddled with patches—over the brazier while leisurely beginning a conversation with Sasabe about that morning’s mist. His demeanor made it seem as though he had completely forgotten that they must now set out again for the neighboring village. It also seemed as though he might be intentionally trying to delay their departure time.

“Even though I’m holding up this umbrella, you see, drops keep falling from my bald head.”

Having said this, he smoothly stroked his sleek head—with only a little hair remaining at the back—and demonstrated it.
Everyone laughed.
While laughing, Takichi felt bad about having to signal that the old man should wrap up this topic.
At the same time, this old man somehow came to be thought of as such a despicable person that one might have gladly thrown away two or three of his heads.

The Principal harbored the same sentiment.
Standing behind the old man, he laughed along as if to humor him while gazing at the clock hanging on the window-side pillar, then took out a large pocket watch from his pouch and checked it.

Sasabe finally stopped laughing and spoke in a mocking tone.
“What happened to that hat? Didn’t you wear it when you came?”

“That one?”
“That one,” Mekata said, stealing an unnecessary glance at the female teacher’s face.
“Hahaha, I lost it, I did.”

“Oh?”
“What a pity that was.”
“It was rather a fine hat though….”
“You’d worn it for nearly thirty years, hadn’t you?”

“Well, how many years ago… It’s odd for me to say this myself, but when I bought it—when it was new—it was splendid. Because my son—the one who died on the steamship—brought it back for me as a souvenir from Yokohama. The felt was good—well, there was this district chief named Shimauchi, you know. When that district chief came on his rounds and stayed overnight due to heavy rain, he took it in hand, turning it over and over as he praised it to high heaven, I tell you.—Didn’t commend a single other thing except that hat.”

“How did you lose it?” Takichi asked with a serious face.

“Well, you see…” The old man suddenly made a dejected face and looked at the young teacher.
Then he shifted his gaze to Sasabe’s bearded face.

“Last month—you know, when the district school inspector came around, right?”

“Ah, he did come.”

“That time, you see,” Mekata said, growing slightly more animated.
“If you think about it, it’s quite the irony.
I mistreated my old wife making her kill chickens, bought jarred Masamune sake, got thoroughly wrung dry on top of that—then had to be seen off along the one-ri road to the station.
Well, couldn’t be helped.
But once the train left, my chest just wouldn’t settle.
Got scolded a bit harsher than usual, see.
Once they’ve got a senile fool like me in their grip, what’s the use of their Herbart this and Pestalozzi that, their graded teaching methods and child psychology nonsense?
No matter how you teach the ‘i’ of iroha, it’s still just the ‘i’ of iroha.
Ain’t that right, Mr. Sasabe?
One plus two equals two has always been one plus two equals two.………”

The female teacher flinched and pressed a handkerchief to her mouth.

“Now now—you shouldn’t laugh like that. An old man’s grumbling should be heard as an old man’s grumbling.—No—it’s improper to say such things in front of you teachers—but anyway… Well—that being said—right after leaving the station I suddenly dashed into Oyoshi Teahouse.”
“Hahaha.”

“Got it, got it.”
“And then you got drunk—maybe someone took it?” Sasabe laughed while stowing his tobacco pouch into his kimono sleeve.

“No, no.” Mekata raised his bony hand in a fluster to deny. “Who’d take that old hat unless they were a dog—you? When I left, I definitely wore it when I left. That girl—the one from Oyoshi Teahouse, whatever her name was—she’d been our student here till last year or the year before. That one—you know—with those plump hands of hers saying ‘Here you go, Mr. Teacher’ as she handed it over—I know all about that. And I know full well I took it and put it on too. But here’s the thing—when I got home, my old woman suddenly says, ‘My, you’re so drunk… What happened to your hat?’ Hmm,” I thought, and when I tried doing this—there it was.—”

He brought his hand to his head and slapped it precisely.
“Hahaha.” Takichi seized this moment to rise from his chair.

“This old codger’s hopelessly flighty.” Having said this, Sasabe clearly considered the conversation concluded.

“Rubbish!” Mekata threw up his hand again as if grasping after the words.
“Wasn’t you.”
“……Thought maybe I’d tucked it in my sleeve—searched there too—wasn’t anywhere.—”

“Shall we set out gradually?”

The Principal, who had been standing idly, said that.
“That’s right,” Sasabe also stood up.

“It must be time now.” When Mekata said this while turning around, his face appeared to Takichi as if declaring the time had finally come to resign himself.
The old man stealthily slipped away from the brazier and went to a corner.

The Principal took out the pocket watch he had put away again and looked at it. “It’s exactly seven-thirty.”
“Just right, wouldn’t you say?”
“Since classes begin at eleven.”

“You’ve had quite the ordeal, Mr. Mekata.” With both hands thrust into his kimono sleeves and his sturdy shoulders squared, Sasabe spoke in a tone of sympathy.

“I won’t grow old.”
“...Well… But five ri, ten ri… still… still…”

While muttering intermittently, he hoisted his body as if to lift it and tucked up his hem.

And this time, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his haori,

“It’s time now, Principal,” he said.
“About that hexagonal clock at my place—the hands keep stopping no matter what. If I bring it to the town office, you think they’ll fix it?”

The rest of their conversation was conducted at the entrance.

The schoolyard appeared hushed and spacious under the temporary holiday.
Four or five neighborhood children who had been gathered in a corner doing something bowed their heads as if startled and watched the retreating figures of the five teachers.
After the teachers had left, a flock of mangy-looking chickens entered the schoolyard scavenging for food.

The mist had completely cleared without a trace, and in the crystal-clear autumn sky of the mountain village, morning sunlight that seemed to warm all things flowed diagonally across.
The village was utterly quiet, as if caught between morning and noon.

Mercury-like air struck their faces and hands with each step, the coolness seeping through their bodies like medicinal liquid.
"It’s as if my mind has become transparent," Takichi thought.
For a while, no one spoke.

When they reached the village outskirts, the Principal—who had been walking at the rear—

“Mr. Imai. What a peculiar day this is,” he called out.

“Why is that?”

“Two people wearing shoes and three not wearing shoes, two people with beards and three without—everyone exists in a two-to-three relationship.”

“That’s right.” Takichi looked around at everyone as if searching for something. And, as if he had found something, he suddenly burst into high-pitched laughter.

“Now that you mention it, that’s right,” the tall Sasabe swung around. “Three in traditional clothing and two in Western clothing; two drinkers and three non-drinkers. Hahaha.”

“Who exactly are these two drinkers?” Mekata asked in a disgruntled tone.

“You and me.”

“Me too?—”

The rest of his words never came, no matter how long they waited.

Sasabe laughed heartily.
But he cut his laughter short and bent over as if searching for a lost item.
When they looked closer, he took scrap paper from his sleeve and began wiping his shoe tips dampened by frost on roadside grass leaves melting in the morning sun.

While wiping, he continued laughing with a “Hahaha.”

“Mr. Mekata appears convinced he doesn’t qualify as a drinker.”

Takichi wanted to burst out laughing. He recalled how Sasabe had boasted a few days before that the boots had cost thirteen days' worth of his monthly salary. Sasabe’s monthly salary was fourteen yen. In his heart, Takichi counted, "One person who values boots..."

“The umbrellas must also be two people—Mr. Mekata and Ms. Yazawa.”
“Everyone is in a two-to-three relationship.” The Principal said again.

“And there’s still more,” Takichi said calmly.

“Three old people and two young ones.”

“Am I also among the three?”

“Is that not acceptable?”

Takichi made a sneering look.
A face in his mid-thirties yet with hollow cheeks and pallid complexion disproportionate to his age, thin downward-curving mustache framing his mouth, clouded lifeless gaze—This is no joke.
Do I still think of myself as young?
Such thoughts were earnest.

“You have a beard, so there’s no helping it.”

Matsuko burst out laughing.

“Mr. Principal! Mr. Principal!” Sasabe called out after finishing wiping his boots and starting to walk. “Ms. Yazawa’s the only woman here—the rest of us are men. What should we do about this?”

“That’s true.”

“…………………………………………………………………………”

“This one’s a separate issue. Let’s leave it at that.”

Sasabe grew agitated. “If I’d been born a woman, I could’ve walked holding hands with Ms. Yazawa! Hey, Ms. Yazawa! Then we’d—”

“If you were a woman,…………………………” Mekata, who was four or five ken ahead, turned around.
“...to the tall, red-bearded drinker,…………………………”

The way it was said carried such spitefulness that the Principal doubled over with laughter.
Matsuko also ended up laughing until she blushed.

Before long, the black-soiled village path left the main thoroughfare and followed along the mountain's base.
The rice paddies on the right soon gave way to cultivated fields, and as these gradually narrowed, a decaying bridge spanned a steep-banked mountain stream.

When they crossed the bridge, there was a mountain.

Not particularly tall mixed woodland and grassy hills were stitched along the winding, meandering path. However, it was not steep enough to trouble Matsuko’s feet. Startled by their footsteps, several pheasants now and then flew up from the thicket’s shade. Each time, the raucous flapping sound vanished overhead without any echo.

The leaves of the miscellaneous trees had stiffened as if they would snap at a touch, colored in deep and light hues.
It was a day without wind.

The color of the grass in the grassy area was already yellow.
Around the black rocks jutting out here and there, small white flowers whose names no one knew appeared and disappeared amidst the grass.
The mountain air, assaulted by frost, felt cold beneath the warmly shining sunlight.
The Principal, for whatever reason, deliberately plucked those flowers and walked on with them inserted into the brim of his hat.

Mekata used a faded satin umbrella as a cane and always took the lead.
He spoke little, as if believing that talking would wear him out.
The Principal and Sasabe alternated between front and back as they followed behind him.
The topic between the two was rumors about the teacher called XX, who had been the most vocal during the class critique meetings for days on end.
Sasabe had always called that teacher “Mr. Squint-Eye” without ever using his actual name.
The mean-spirited squint-eyed teacher and Sasabe the drinker had been rivals since childhood and still did not get along.

Takichi and Matsuko brought up the rear.

When they came to the top of a certain grassy hill, Takichi stopped by the roadside.
And,

“Please walk ahead a bit,” he said.

“Why?”

“Just because.”

As if unable to comprehend his meaning, Matsuko still did not move.

Then Takichi suddenly retreated four or five ken back the way they had come.
And veering sideways, he hid his body behind a large rock.
From above the rock, only his hat remained visible.
Noticing this at last, Matsuko found herself laughing alone.

Soon Takichi returned from there and, seeing Matsuko still standing, approached with a laugh.

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“I was wondering what had happened.”

The two started walking while laughing.
Then Takichi turned around,

“Isn’t it better for us two to walk like this?”

And without waiting for a reply,

“Shall we walk a bit slower? ………What do you think of that look?”

Takichi pointed down the slope.

“Yes.” Matsuko wore a relieved expression.
“Mr. Mekata may be taking the lead like that now, but he’ll certainly end up last on our return journey.”

“When that happens, shall we two guide him along?”

“I’d rather not.”

“If you’d just stop wearing those geta clogs, then people wouldn’t go around saying such things about you.”

“Oh, I’ll be just fine.
I’ll certainly manage to walk it for you to see.”

“Admittedly, it’s only proper that the old folks proceed ahead first.
Look.
They’re trudging down the slope in age order like that.
Hahaha.
Isn’t it amusing?”

“Yes.
You do have quite a sharp tongue.”

“But isn’t it amusing?
Ah—he tripped!
Look at Old Man Mekata’s posture.”

“Ohohoho… But aren’t we also descending the slope?”

“Does that mean you’ll become an old woman too?”

“Oh, how dreadful!”

“Isn’t that just how it has to be, whether you like it or not?”

“Then doesn’t the same go for you?”

“I hate it.”

“Like it or not…”
“Ho ho ho.”

“You’re being mean――but just think about it.
“I still have something I must accomplish before becoming an old man――Ah, they’re looking this way.” Suddenly raising his voice: “Principal! Please wait a moment!”

About fifty meters below, the three stopped and looked up in unison.

“What do you think of that getup with a flower stuck in his hat?” Takichi said, quickening his pace slightly. “I read somewhere that when a broken, warped piano produces beautiful notes, it’s like a dying old woman singing love songs—doesn’t that bear some resemblance? It’s far more comical than you waiting around for me to take a leak.”

“You’re quite something—
“I was merely wondering what you were doing, wasn’t I?”

“Ah, my apologies.
“It was just a joke.
“Comparing you to the principal was harsh of me.”

“Please stop that now. If the Principal heard that, he’d get angry, don’t you think?”

“That person simply adores putting on such antics. Why, just the other day he was going on about emotional education—this and that, wasn’t he?”

“Yes… At that time I found it funny—”

“It’s true—I used to appreciate elegant sentiments—but saying such things is really just a sort of physiological impulse, you know.”

“What?”

“You still haven’t met the Principal’s wife, have you?”

“Yes.”

“He can’t hold his head up before his wife—being a son-in-law, you see.”
“And there are just too many children, you see.”

“………”

“It’s true.”
“His flat-as-a-sweet-potato of a pitch-black wife with only her eyes shining brightly.”
“She must have hysteria.”
“And yet she already has five children.”

“Five?”

“Yes. This time it’ll be the sixth one, I suppose.”
“And apparently she’s gone back to her parents’ home because of that.”

“That’s enough now.”
“They can hear you.”

“It’s fine.”

He had said that, but Takichi nevertheless fell silent.
The distance between them was barely seven or eight ken.

Sasabe jeered from below.
“…………………………Mr. Imai, Ms. Yazawa.”

The principal also called out in a hoarse voice.
“Please walk a bit faster.”

“Let’s hurry.”
“Let’s hurry,” Matsuko urged from behind.

When they caught up, Takichi remarked, “You all are rather quick.”

“There’s no real fast or slow to speak of,” Yazawa countered as Sasabe thrust both hands into his coat pockets and leaned his tall frame forward, eyes crinkling with amusement. “What were you two going on about back there?”

“Mr. Mekata advocates leaving young folks be,” Yazawa began, turning toward the Principal, “but I rather think—”

“Honestly,” Sasabe interjected with a derisive chuckle. “Heh heh heh.”

“I’m sorry. A defeat for the geta faction, isn’t it? But what do you suppose we were talking about just now as we came along?”

“…………………………?”

Mekata said.

Then the Principal also,

“I don’t know why, but from a distance it somehow…”

“This is quite the predicament.
That’s nothing compared to something far more interesting.—I’ve been critiquing you all as we came along.”

“Ours?”

“What sort of critique?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Sasabe said. “From above, the sight of them trudging along was quite amusing, you see.”

“Is that all?” Imai challenged.

“You mustn’t get angry now,” Sasabe countered. “Were you all walking in order of age? So I said you’ll surely die in that order.” His laughter boomed— “Ha ha ha ha! From above, it looked as if they were descending step by step into a grave.”

“Well, this is surprising.” The Principal said this while deliberately widening his eyes in feigned astonishment.
And once more, he said, “Well, this is surprising.”

"What's there to be surprised about?" Takichi thought, finding it absurd.
Yet the laughter he had anticipated emerged from no one's mouth.

After a moment, Sasabe, as if mending a torn conversation, said:
“So what is it then? I’ll be the second to die, then. How dreadful. Ha ha ha.”

“You’re really something, Mr. Imai,” said Mekata with a sour face. “Old men like me want nothing to do with talk of dying.”

There was no shortage of indignation at the young upstart’s impertinence.

“You can’t just say that so categorically, Mr. Mekata,” Sasabe said after looking around at everyone’s faces. “I’m quite fond of someone like Mr. Imai. He’s straightforward as splitting bamboo, without any reservations. If they want to speak, they speak; if they want to eat, they eat… Young people today must be like this. Truly an amusing disposition.”

“Th-that’s not what I meant, you see. Mr. Sasabe, speaking like that causes friction. I like him too. I admire Mr. Imai’s disposition too… It’s just that when a topic I dislike comes up, I say I dislike it—that’s all. Right, Mr. Imai? That’s how it is, isn’t it?”

“Honestly.” The Principal interjected. “There’s really nothing more to it, I assure you.”

“This has turned into quite a predicament.”

Sasabe cut in as if snatching Takichi’s words,

“There’s nothing to worry about. ………Seems I was just borrowing trouble.”
“Ha ha ha!”
“This right here is proof I’m digging my own grave!”

“Well, even now Mr. Sasabe was speaking of this—that doing as one likes, eating when hungry and speaking one’s mind—is by no means an easy thing to accomplish.”

The Principal tried to steer the conversation anew from this point.

“Is this about the barley crackers incident again?”

Having said this, Takichi let out an innocent laugh.
At that, everyone laughed.
The peace that had nearly shattered had somehow returned to its former state.

The elders and the younger ones continued walking, each mentally awaiting the emergence of the next topic.

Then, Mekata turned to look back.

“Mr. Imai.”
“Today, could you let me join the barley cracker group too?”
“If I drink—what with it being the return journey and all—I might end up unable to walk.”

“Victory was ours,” Takichi thought.
And speaking aloud, he said, “Isn’t it just as well there’s no hat today?”

“But today it isn’t barley crackers.”

Sasabe interjected a remark.

“What could it be?”

“Chestnuts. It’s definitely chestnuts.”
“Definitely chestnuts.”

“And why is that?” Mekata calmly asked.

“Since Tamiya’s a miser, why would he spend even a single extra sen?”
“He must’ve had students gather chestnuts from the mountain behind the school yesterday or so.”
“Just see—it’s sure to be right.”

“I see, it might indeed be as Mr. Sasabe says.”

After tilting his head two or three times, the Principal also agreed.

When they finished descending the slope, there was another mountain stream.
Along the riverbank stood five or six young lacquer trees, their leaves' shadows—now ripened to a startlingly vivid hue—reflected on the water's bottom as though a golden cow had sunk beneath the surface.
The clear, shallow water carrying fallen leaves from upstream flowed over the amber riverbed, singing a faint song as it went.
S Village ended there, and upon crossing the bridge, their feet already trod upon T Village's soil.

The road then widened slightly.
The road wound gently eastward through fields of poor-quality soil between mountains that jutted out and receded.
The sun was already high in the sky, and the leaves of the grass by the roadside were dry.
In the fields, here and there a house or two of low, old thatched farmhouses—looking as though they’d been crushed flat—were scattered.
Dogs with wolf-like faces—seemingly mixed-breeds—emerged from those very houses and timidly barked and howled from a distance.

To both Takichi and Matsuko, there was somehow a feeling as if they had set out on a journey.
The men and women they encountered mostly only greeted and saw them off with looks of curiosity.
Even when there were those who occasionally bowed, at the moment of passing they would furtively slip by as if sneaking through.

Compared to walking the roads of their home village, curiosity stood in place of a sense of closeness.

"There aren't many rice fields here."

Takichi looked around at the surroundings and offered this observation.
The mountains, trees, houses, and people they encountered all seemed composed within their own distinctive atmospheres.
Between that composed air and themselves as chance visitors, they somehow felt like strangers who had known each other since ancient times.
The sensation evoked when hearing the title of an unread book became precisely Takichi's state of mind at this moment.

“Since they eat nothing but millet, barnyard millet, and buckwheat, the people in this village’s shit is hard as stone and pitch black.” With such remarks, Sasabe made Takichi and Matsuko laugh. Even amid such criticism and observations, there was a ring of pride in this middle-aged man’s words for the village where he was born and lived. In such a manner, the Principal also told them, “Half of the women in this village still haven’t seen a train, it seems.”

Those words were not necessarily things Takichi was hearing for the first time that day. Yet he felt as though he had only now come to understand the cultural differences between villages near the railway and those far from it. The fact that even two villages—so small on the map they could be hidden beneath a thin brush handle—contained such differences placed upon the young assistant teacher's heart a weight akin to some great responsibility.

After walking over another ri from there, the mountains began to draw slightly apart.
The area had become irregularly shaped rice fields spanning seven or eight chōbu, where figures of farmers tending harvested early rice moved here and there like mechanical scarecrows.
Beyond the fields, mountains closed in again, and twenty or thirty roofs appeared clustered together.

Having walked the ridge path marked by numerous horse hoofprints and stepped into the hamlet, Takichi and Matsuko knew without being told that the school must be near. Disturbing the solemn midday autumn air of this mountain village that seemed inhabited solely by mute beings, there came to the teachers' ears—with the familiarity of their own long-forgotten inner voice—a resonance of deep-seated commotion: neither sound nor speech, impossible to discern as distant or near.

They somehow felt a sense of solemnity creep over them. They had not yet walked twenty paces along the uneven upward path—buried between grass-choked ditches and farmhouse hedges planted with plum and peach trees—when two or three boyish figures who appeared to be students came into view ahead. One suddenly raised his voice and shouted, “They’re here! They’re here!” An older boy among them seemed to try to hush him. Then together they dashed off like scouts who had spotted enemy forces. Mekata halted to lower his hitched-up hem, let the Principal and Sasabe pass ahead, and followed at their rear.

A school gate stood weathered by rain and wind, retaining only a vestige of its form. They also saw a shabby thatched-roof school building remodeled from a farmhouse. Before the gate stood twenty or thirty students lined up on both sides. Some stood as tall and lanky as adults, while others had tied their maroon woolen haori cords in butterfly-shaped knots at their chests. One glance revealed they were upper-grade students.

"They're being too lenient," Takichi first thought with amusement. This observation responded to the meticulous preparations made by this school's teachers.

When the group passed in front of them, the students bowed their heads as if they had been waiting in readiness, each eager not to be the last to do so.
"Hmm," the Principal also found himself nodding inwardly.

When they noticed, the earlier commotion they had heard had quieted down, and from all corners of the schoolyard children came streaming over, bowing one after another.
It was like young colts at a pasture jostling to be first to stick their necks into the water trough.

“Come now, do come in.” A heavily accented voice boomed out, steering all eyes toward the entrance.

There stood a short man in his mid-forties, rubbing his hands together and smiling amiably. With his dark-complexioned, pockmarked face shaped like a crab’s shell—both comical and solemn—wearing a chalk-dusted black cotton montsuki and short-hemmed hakama trousers, this was Tamiya: the principal who had maintained the same one-room mountain school for over twenty years, renowned throughout neighboring villages as a serious and skilled practitioner of teaching methods.

“Have you all gathered?”

“Indeed we have.”
“We’ve been awaiting your arrival since earlier.”

“The fine weather was most fortunate.”

“Truly, it was all thanks to you.”
“Now then, please do come in.”

“Has Teacher □□ arrived yet?” asked Sasabe, inquiring about the squint-eyed teacher they’d discussed on the road.

“Mr. ×× was today’s first arrival.”
“Now then, please—”

“After you,” said Mekata, turning to the Principal.

“I need to visit the restroom briefly.”

Having said that, the Principal went around to the back of the school building.
Sasabe removed his shoes and stepped up, while Mekata began clumsily untying the cords of his straw sandals.
The two wearing geta still stood outside.
The students had formed a loose circle and were watching the scene with curiosity.

“The students bowed at the gate, didn’t they?”

The female teacher whispered to Takichi.

"Yes. It's because today's the class critique meeting," Takichi replied quietly.

"Then would this be temporary?"

"If it weren't temporary—wouldn't that be utterly foolish? Because critique meetings are temporary events."

"Yes."

"Students are simple creatures—tell them 'do' and they'll do it; tell them 'don't' and they won't... but only while they're at school."

At that moment, the Principal returned from the restroom while checking his watch.

“It’s exactly ten-thirty.”

“Is that so?”

“It took exactly three hours.”
“One ri per hour—not a minute off.”

The face that had said this looked thoroughly satisfied with itself.

Takichi felt like laughing for some reason.
And then, turning toward Matsuko,

"If you weren't here, we could have arrived much sooner."

“Since we arrived exactly on time, that should suffice,” said the Principal as he removed his shoes.

“What’s so ‘exact’ about it?” Takichi found himself inwardly amused again. “No one sets anything in stone anyway.”

“In that case, I’ll walk quickly on the return trip and show you.”

Matsuko wrinkled the tip of her nose and said in a coquettish manner.

About half an hour later, the school bell rang out with a hoarse sound, clamoring noisily for a while. Nearly a hundred students—most still barefoot, each playing freely about the schoolyard—entered beneath the dark roof without wiping or washing their feet, as though being sucked in. The clattering sound of desks and chairs. When that subsided, the voice of the teacher reading the student attendance register. “Fuchizawa Chōnosuke, Kinoshita Kanji, Kinoshita Sagorō, Shito Sata, Sasaki Shinmatsu……….”

The students’ voices responded with “Here... here...”

At last, the lessons for critique began.
“In your previous moral education class, what did you all learn?”
“What story did you hear about what kind of person?”
“Does anyone know?”
“Hm? Miss Oume?”
“That’s correct.”
“It was the story of Miss Oume’s filial piety.”
“Is there anyone in second grade who can retell that story now?”—the rasping voice of the country teacher carried clear to the gate.
Through the latticed windows of the classroom facing the gate, figures of observing teachers stood with their backs to the panes.

When the clattering of desks and chairs was heard again from within the dark house, it was already when the fifty-minute class had ended. The students rushed out vying to be first into the bright outdoors. Yet they did not head straight home; the older children stood here and there whispering among themselves. There was also a girl who came all the way outside the gate and called out to her friend in a voice so high-pitched she had to bend over: “O-chikarai! O-chikarai!”

The teachers—as many as five or six of them—came out from the entrance and took turns going to the back restroom.
Among them were Sasabe and Takichi.
Takichi emerged with a loud yawn and, laughing, surveyed the students gathered around the area.
Most of their outfits—hakama pants made from hand-woven hemp or momuji fabric without a seat—showed no significant difference from the children of S Village whom he taught.
Yet somehow, the impression of "children from a village far from trains" lingered about them.
The students, exchanging glances and nudging each other, gazed at this young teacher whose name they didn’t know.

“Hey, hey.” Saying this, Takichi approached the group of children. “You’re all fortunate to have good teachers.”

The children exchanged glances and deferred answering each other.
The one who had been at the front circled around to the back of everyone as if fleeing.

"What do you all most want to see?" Takichi said again.

There was no response to that either.

“There must be something you want to see, right? ……… Is no one going to answer?”
“Ha ha ha ha.”
“Is it acceptable to call T Village students nothing but stone statue brats?”

The children laughed.

"When someone speaks to you, answer right away—doesn’t your teacher teach you that?"
"If we say something and you don’t answer back, we can hit you."
"If they come swinging at you, swing back."
"You need to speak up more."

"I wanna see a warship, Teacher."

The one making a clownish face called out from the back.

"Warship? What else?"

"I wanna see a gramophone," said another.

"Alright."
"A warship and a gramophone, eh?"
"Then this time, answer right away!"
"Got it?"

“Yes,” they all said at once.
“Have you all ever seen a train?”

“Yes.” “No.” the children answered in scattered voices.

“I’ve seen one but never ridden one.”

The tall one said from behind everyone.

“Go on now, everyone go home go home.” A loud voice was heard at that moment from behind Takichi.
Everyone looked toward the entrance.
There, the principal of this school stood with both arms spread wide on the threshold.

“Mr. Imai, come now please.” Raising his voice again: “Since there are guests at the school today, you all mustn’t stay here making noise.”

Takichi turned on his heel with a laugh and told the children that if they came to S Village on their day off, he would take them to see the train.
And then he went inside.

When the schoolyard had grown quiet, a stooped caretaker emerged holding a straw broom and began sweeping from the entrance.
Straw sandals, boots, wooden clogs—the footwear of the teachers gathered from all around was neatly arranged.
There were seventeen or eighteen pairs in total.
Among them stood two women’s geta—one with grape-brown straps and another with olive-green ones.

＊ ＊ ＊ ＊

＊ ＊ ＊ ＊

“Are we waiting here again?”

Takichi turned around to Matsuko, who was following behind him, and said.

“Yes. It seems to have gotten rather chilly.”

Takichi casually sat down on a roadside stone.
Matsuko crouched a short distance away, using her indigo umbrella as a staff.

That place was already the top of the last slope near S Village. The two of them had rested like this several times, taking detours while waiting for the elders who had fallen behind. They waited and waited, but the elders never came. And so they began walking again without particular purpose, until they finally ended up here.

It was already nearing five PM. In the cloudless western sky bright as a sea of light, the late autumn sun—like a falling fireball—hung low over the Central Mountain Range. A trembling light slanted down to illuminate their profiles. On the undersides of the surrounding trees' leaves, the shadows of dusk had already begun to gather.

The fatigue from their journey there had mostly subsided while they were at their destination, so the two of them weren’t particularly tired. But even so, when he rested like this, Takichi could feel the swelling in his legs below the knees. And his mind felt light, as though there were nothing left to say.

After classes ended, chestnuts were brought out, sake was brought out, chestnut rice was brought out.
And then the critique began.
However, that critique didn’t get off the ground at all.
That was partly due to an unexpected event that had occurred.

“Now then, I would like to gradually hear everyone’s opinions.” At the moment when the principal acting as host said this, the bald, squint-eyed teacher who usually spoke up suddenly straightened his posture and surveyed the teachers packed tightly into the eight-tatami room.

“Before the critique begins—though saying this risks trampling upon today’s meeting, for which I sincerely apologize—there is actually one matter I wish to earnestly seek everyone’s opinions on……… While it concerns myself alone and may seem trivial, I simply cannot remain silent about it.”

The entire group held their breath, wondering what he would say next.
The face of the squint-eyed teacher, who was usually not prone to smiling, looked especially bitter on this day.
And what he began to recount was as follows.
—When I was summoned by the county office at the end of last month, I went wondering what it could be about, only to be taken to a separate room by the District School Inspector and told something utterly unexpected.
"It was none other than that."
“There’s been a rumor lately that I… and I was reprimanded for it.”
“―

“Isn’t this truly shocking? Even if it’s mere rumor, first I must apologize to you mountain people for remaining unmarried while living among you this way. And as for myself—though perhaps my ears grew deaf during these thirty years I’ve spent in education—I believe not one malicious rumor ever circulated about me until now. This may sound self-aggrandizing, but I trust you all would graciously admit that fact. ……It’s truly perplexing. After returning to school, I felt such bitter frustration—such overwhelming frustration—that I wept like a man.”

……………………………………………………………………………………….

“...That such rumors—too shameful to even mention—have been spread about me must mean I’ve lost your trust as an educator.”
“There’s nothing for it but to resign myself to that.”
“Yet I simply can’t bring myself to accept it.”
“—Could there truly have been any failing of mine that might give rise to such rumors?”

The group could only exchange glances.
With that, Takichi abruptly stood up and went outside.
Then, alone in the toilet, he shook with laughter.
The absurd juxtaposition of ××'s bitterly contorted squint-eyed face and the matter he had spoken about was so comical in every conceivable way that he couldn't endure it.
When the thought "Did that old man really weep like a man?" arose, another fresh laugh bubbled up to his lips.

After Takichi stood up, the group once again exchanged puzzled glances.
Then, it was Sasabe who spoke up before anyone else.

“I was truly astonished. But really, isn’t that just the District School Inspector being the District School Inspector? That such foolishness could exist regarding Mr. ××—anyone who isn’t a madman or a fool would agree. Even if rumors existed, to take them up and deliberately summon him...”

“No—what I wish to inquire about today isn’t that matter. The District School Inspector remains the District School Inspector... But more importantly, how did such a rumor even arise?” he said, his tone sharpening slightly.

“Is there anyone among your students’ parents who might hold a grudge against you over some misunderstanding—does anything come to mind?”

A teacher with a serious expression stroked his goat-like beard as he spoke.

“Absolutely not,” Mr. ×× said, shaking his head vehemently. “I’ve tried recalling and investigating every possibility, but...”
A fury that seemed to ask, “If it’s not among us here, where else could it be?” flashed in his eyes.
One of the teachers glanced furtively at Sasabe.

However, even that was somehow settled.
However, the squint-eyed teacher, for his part, did not speak much.
Consequently, the crucial critique of classes did not thrive at all.
They pointed out issues like teachers’ mispronunciations of ‘shi’ and ‘su’ or ‘chi’ and ‘tsu,’ and a theory was proposed that first-year students had been neglected during classes—with that being about the extent of it—so the atmosphere grew awkwardly flat.

While they were occupied with that, the mayor of that village arrived.
The cups suddenly began circulating, and the conversation shifted entirely to casual small talk.

At three o'clock, the entire group decided to depart.
When they passed through the gate, more than half wore flushed faces.
Among them, Mekata was so drunk his footing became unsteady.

Each time the road forked, their numbers dwindled.
When they reached a certain large farmhouse with a new roof by the roadside, the village mayor who had accompanied them thus far invited everyone inside.
There stood kept the village’s pride—an expensive municipally-owned stud horse.

The master of the house welcomed them cheerfully.
When the entire group exited the stable and circled around to the backyard, thin straw mats had been laid out on the engawa of the tatami room, and alcohol was brought out.
Refusing it was not the custom in these parts.

Takichi and Matsuko left the house a step ahead after a short while.

The two remained silent at the top of the slope for a while.

“They must be thoroughly drunk by now, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, must be.”
“It’s utterly hopeless.”

With that, Takichi lit his rolled cigarette.

However, the two of them felt not the slightest urgency at the approach of dusk.
They felt as though they wanted to keep waiting endlessly for the elders who never arrived, no matter how long they waited.

After a short while, Takichi said,

“When I grow old and become a drinker, will I end up like that? It’s truly disgusting. Mr. Mekata goes for his mouth before the cup.”

“Yes… Is it really that delicious?”

“Well... I’ve also had a time when I drank heavily.”
“It had a rather strange taste, you know.”

“When did you take up drinking?”

“At my brother’s wedding.
Because everyone kept telling me to drink, I thought ‘Screw it’ and chugged it down.
Then my body gradually grew heavier, I tell you.
Got this ridiculously pounding heartbeat.
Thinking ‘This is strange,’ I lay down, and the voices of people talking right in front of me sounded like they were coming from far away... Then finally, my brother’s bride in her beautiful clothes started seeming like she was my own bride somehow.
While I was thinking ‘I wasn’t supposed to be taking a wife yet,’ before I knew it, I’d fallen asleep.’”

“That’s interesting. How old were you then?”

“Seventeen.”

Takichi felt the cold of the stone he had been sitting on and stood up.
And he looked back the way they had come, but there was no sign of them.

“What’s wrong?”

“Honestly… When we sit here like this, you can hear the river, can’t you?”

“The sound of the river?”

The two strained their ears.

“Can you hear it?”

“I can’t hear it.”

“It can be heard.
Wasn’t there a river below here?”

“Now that you mention it, I think I can hear it a little… Hmm, I can hear it.
Shall we go over there and wait?”

“That’s right.”
“It’s truly a tedious role.”
“Honestly.”
“If I weren’t here, would you go on ahead?”

“Ha ha,” Takichi laughed loudly.

The two descended the slope.

The mountain stream’s water reflected the nearing dusk sky with clarity. The two leaned against the bridge’s railing above it—a precarious structure of logs lashed together—and stood there side by side. From that point, only eleven or twelve chō—about a kilometer—remained to the school.

“What will we do if we wait here and they don’t come?”

“I don’t mind either way.”

“In that case, shall we head back first?”

“It would be fine to go back, but doesn’t it feel rather odd?”

“Then shall we wait indefinitely?”

“We could wait, but…”

“Even if it gets dark?”

“I’m fine either way.
As you prefer, Teacher.”

“What if, while we’re waiting, the sun sets and it gets completely dark, and then bandits come out—what will we do?”

“I hate it when you scare me like that.”

“What if the bushes over there rustle noisily and some fellow with a checkered cloth or something tied around his head slinks out?”

“Let them come out.
Teacher is here, after all.”

“I’ll run ahead and escape.”

“I’ll run away too.”
“Running away won’t prevail against them. If they grab your collar from behind and say, ‘Do you want your life or your money?’, what will you do?”

“I’ll hand over the money. I’ve only got about one yen on me.”

“What if they say that’s not enough?”

“Then... Then I’ll tell them, ‘The teacher who ran ahead first is loaded with cash—go get it from them over there.’ Hohoho.”

“That backfired. We were supposed to have this conversation after it got properly dark, you know.”

“How dramatic…...… No need to keep pretending to be surprised.”

“Is that true?”

“Dead serious. Why would that surprise anyone?”

“Well then, if… If, you know,”
“No matter what comes out, it’s okay.”
“If, you know…”
“Yeah.”
“I quit.”

“Oh? Why?”

“There’s a reason why I quit.”

Takichi’s face turned serious.

“Oh, please tell me. Hey, Teacher.”

Takichi thought, ………………………………………….
“I quit. Because you would be surprised.”

“It’s okay. No matter what happens.”

“Seriously?”

Takichi pressed on as if determined to reject it.

“Yes.”

“It’s gotten a bit chilly, hasn’t it?”

Matsuko looked at the man’s face.
It seemed the sun had already set without them noticing, and the surroundings grew dim.
Even the mountain stream’s water lost its color.

Matsuko started giggling to herself. She laughed and laughed, unable to stop.
In the end, Takichi too found himself laughing helplessly along with her.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s nothing.”

“I hate this! Aren’t you making a fool out of me?”

“Oh, that’s not it at all.”

Matsuko gradually suppressed her laughter.

“All women have a certain trait—or so they say. I wonder if that’s true,” Takichi suddenly thought.
And he said:
“Among women there are various types.
The previous old lady was someone who seldom laughed.”

“The previous old lady you mentioned?”

“It’s the female teacher who came before you.”

“Oh, how pitiable! Wasn’t she still twenty-five?”

“If she’s twenty-five and unmarried, doesn’t that make her an old maid?”

“But being single… Then must all women get married?”

“If you don’t want to be called an old maid at twenty-five, then...”

“You’re really something, Teacher.”

“Isn’t that right?”

“With the previous one, you must have been quite close, Teacher?”

“I was always getting scolded.”

“Lies! But she was said to be such a serious person, wasn’t she?”

“Yes.
Because sometimes I’d say something outrageous or put on childish airs, I’d get scolded every time.
But that made it rather amusing, you see.”

“………What sort of outrageous things did you say?”

“When I asked, ‘Is it true all women share a particular trait?’ she told me, ‘I shan’t speak to you anymore.’”

“My, how cruel. ………Wouldn’t anyone get angry if told such a thing?”
“Is that so?”
“Wouldn’t you get angry? Even I would get angry.”

Then, this time, it was Takichi who found it amusing.
Holding back his laughter,

“Go ahead and get angry right now.”

“I don’t know.”

“Ahahaha!” Takichi finally burst out laughing.
And he began to feel as though he had completely underestimated his opponent.

“Ms. Yazawa. Do you know what I started to say earlier and stopped?”

“How could I know when you didn’t say it?”

“If I were to try to—you, what would you do? That’s what I was going to say.” “Ahahaha!”

“Stop saying such things.” ...Truly, I probably thought the same way myself. “That’s why it was so funny.”

When he heard that laughter, Takichi felt as though something had gone off target. And he looked at the woman.

The surroundings had already grown dim.

“Oh, what should we do, Teacher? It’s gotten so dark,” Matsuko said abruptly after a moment, her voice tinged with urgency.

But to Takichi, none of that mattered—it was a feeling as though something had suddenly become incomprehensible.

“Isn’t this fine? I’ll really scare you now and make you spill your true feelings.”

“I hate being scared.”

“If you hate it so much, go back alone.”

“Hey, what should we do? Oh my, haven’t the stars become so clearly visible now?”

“Must you panic so suddenly?”

“Yes. ………But doesn’t something feel strange?……………………………………………………………………….”

“Hahaha. ………That was comical, wasn’t it?”

“When I thought about that old man…,” I couldn’t bear it anymore and fled to the restroom.”

“Yeah.
“When sensei stood up，everyone made such strange faces.”

“But isn’t it absurd?”
“That even that woman joined in the outrage—I still found it amusing.”

“Poor thing，that person... Truly，when I heard that story，I was terrified.”

“What?”

“But isn’t that the case?…………………………………………………………………………………….”
“Even if what they say about that person is only a rumor，isn’t having those rumors spread unpleasant enough？”

“I just found it funny.
“Isn’t he putting on some act, crying like a man out of frustration?”

“In all seriousness, was that actually true?”
“Did someone slander him?”

“Well...
“What do you think?”

“I don’t know.……….”

“That’s self-serving, isn’t it?”

“That’s not it.”
“But somehow I feel that way.”

“As for the men...…………………………………?”

“Yeah.”
“Oh, come now…”
“And that mountain lodge resident—I’m sure they must be someone weak-willed.”

“That might be the case.………”
“But who could it be—the one who reported it to the District School Inspector?”

“I already know that. —Isn’t it absurd how the elders are pulling such childish pranks?”

“It’s serious. ………Could it be someone we know?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Mr. Sasabe, right? That’s definitely it—though we can’t say it too loudly.”

“Ah, wait.”

With that, Takichi pricked up his ears.

The mountain stream’s water murmured.

“Did you hear a voice?”
“Be quiet.”

The two looked up at the slope.
The sky retained only a faint remnant of the evening glow, and three or four pale stars could be counted.

“Oh, that’s strange. Isn’t the sound coming from over there?” After a moment, Matsuko pointed downstream.

“That’s right… It is strange.”

“If it were someone else, wouldn’t it be odd for us to be here like this?”

“Ah, that’s Mr. Sasabe’s voice.”
“Right?”
“That’s right.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Why from over there…”

Takichi called out, cupping his hands around his mouth.
“Sensei!
Where are you walking?”

“Ooh.” After a pause, a reply was heard.
It was indeed from downstream.

Before long, three figures emerged dimly at the dusk-shrouded riverbank.

“Why did you come from that direction?”
“Are you alone, Mr. Imai?”

“Ms. Yazawa is also here. Because you were taking so long, I was just thinking we should’ve gone ahead and returned by now.”

“Oh, my apologies.”

“Why did you come from that way? Wasn’t there supposed to be no path that way?”

“Ah, my mistake, my mistake.”

It was Sasabe who said it.

“Were you bewitched by a fox or something?”

“Mr. Imai, I should’ve just calmly come ahead with you.” Mekata’s voice sounded utterly exhausted.

“Well, a fox would’ve been better—but getting bewitched by Mr. Sasabe?”
“That’s already been settled. I give up, I give up!” said Sasabe.

Before long, all three had come onto the bridge.

“Ah, I’m exhausted.” The Principal sat down, resting one foot on the railing.
“Ms. Yazawa, I must apologize.”

“Not at all.
I was just wondering what had happened.”

“I truly must apologize,” said Sasabe.
“I thought perhaps you’d already gone back to school and were playing the organ or something.”

“Mr. Imai, please do listen.” Old Man Mekata straightened his back and let out an imploring voice.
“...They should’ve stopped there, but they kept drinking so carelessly.”
“It’s fine for Mr. Sasabe and them since they’re still younger than me, but as for me—well, you see how I am.”
“Then Mr. Sasabe went and said, ‘There’s a shortcut this way—let’s take it to catch up with you all.’”
“It’s my fault for agreeing to it, but that slope was just terrible.”
“When we finally made it downstream here after all that trouble—what do you think happened? It seems the bridge was washed away in the recent flood—what a mess that was!”
“And then we had to climb up another half a ri like this.”
“No—from now on, I’m not walking with Mr. Sasabe anymore.”

“Ha ha ha,” laughed Takichi.

“Well…it worked out. If there’d been a bridge there, we’d have almost left you two behind here.”

“I’ll keep quiet now—seems like I’ve ended up causing trouble left and right,” said Sasabe while laughing and scratching his head.

“By the way, does anyone have some paper? I’ve held out until now, but…just let everyone wait a moment.”

The paper came out from Matsuko’s sleeve.

“It might be a bit smelly, so please go a bit further ahead and wait there. Mr. Imai, I’m counting on you with this.”

With that, Mekata handed his umbrella to Takichi, assumed a posture as if stepping on something painful, and crouched in the bush shadows a few yards away at the edge of the bridge. Only the bald head was faintly visible.

“We’ll leave you behind, Mr. Mekata.”

Thus Sasabe teased.
However, there was no reply.

The four crossed the bridge.
After walking five or six ken, granite stone materials cut from the mountains there lay scattered in five or six pieces by the roadside.
The four each sat down on them.

“Ah, I’m exhausted.”

The Principal said again.

“I’m truly exhausted,” said Sasabe.

“When you’re this exhausted, you don’t need anything else... We must’ve all drunk about two shō (approx. 3.6 liters) back at that house, don’t you think?”

“About one shō and five gō (approx. 2.7 liters), I’d say. Since everyone already had low tolerance and the alcohol was poor, it hit them all the harder.”

“I just want to lie down right here and sleep.”

The Principal was swaying unsteadily in the dim light.

“Mr. Mekata seems to have grown quite frail,” said Takichi.

“Well, he truly was pitiable.”
“When we came to that spot without a bridge, he didn’t go around muttering like a child.”

“In that state, I suppose we’ll end up staying at the school tonight?”

“We can’t very well tell him to go back now,” said the Principal.
“Really now, an elderly person like him didn’t need to come all this way for today’s meeting.”

“Principal, please don’t say that. Who do you think would come here willingly? I can’t say this loudly, but Mr. Mekata’s pitiable—a decrepit assistant teacher and all. If he becomes someone who might be forced to resign at any time…”

“That is true.”
“That is absolutely true.”

“As for that current District School Inspector bastard—that guy’s just an idiot.”
“Where in the world does someone go nitpicking at a fatherly old man like that?—that bastard’s a first-rate idiot.”
“If he’s not an idiot, he’s a scoundrel.”

The lingering effects of alcohol remained.

“Understood,” the Principal said in a slurred voice.

The conversation lapsed.

Wait as they might, Mekata did not come.
At last, Sasabe let out a loud groan.

“Ah, I’m getting sleepy.”
“I wonder what’s happened to Mr. Mekata.”
“Surely he hasn’t fallen asleep right there like that?”

“He should be coming now.”
“Ah, if only the janitor had kept the brazier lit...”

Even the Principal’s voice as he spoke was half a groan.

Only the murmuring sound of water could be heard.

“I’m still twenty-two.—That’s right, just twenty-two.”
Takichi, without quite grasping what it was about, found himself thinking that way.
And he lit a cigarette, its ember beginning to flicker intermittently in the deepening darkness.

Matsuko gazed fixedly at it from the neighboring stone.

[“Shinshōsetsu”
Meiji 43, April Issue]