Pathway to Japanese Literature

1

As the nun had departed for the market, leaving rice and salt behind at the hermitage, neither Maya nor I would go hungry.
Originally, it was an isolated dwelling in the mountains.
Maya desired neither sweet things nor tart things—and I was no different.

A long-handled sickle adorned solely with chinquapin leaves hung at my waist.
I fastened a basket to my shoulder with a cord and wore straw sandals with a lined short coat.
Thus it was that I left the hermitage past noon.

Some townspeople from distant foothills had set out as early as dawnbreak.
There were those who came before daybreak.
Lawn mushrooms, matsutake, shimeji, truffles—under dwarf bamboo canes, amidst grasses, deep within mixed woods, through valleys—though these mountains teemed with them, those who came foraging proved equally numerous.

With rain having fallen yesterday and the day before—leaving the mountain earth sodden—figures had already begun streaming into the hills before the morning mist could lift, all anticipating plentiful spoils.
By now they must have combed even beneath the rotted leaves.
Groups of five or seven, three or five—they emerged intermittently in waves, gathering before descending the slopes. Yet though I had grown familiar with our mountain hermitage and knew its soil intimately—how much could I possibly collect?

Rice and salt were stored.
The water from the bamboo channel was so pure that even should we gather not a single tree nut, neither Maya nor I would go hungry; as for sweet things or sour things, they had long ceased to desire them.
Therefore, even though I came to gather mushrooms—those non-poisonous ones with a sweet taste—it was not to boil and eat them.
I sought only to gather those with intriguing shapes and beautiful colors, bring them back, and show them to amuse her.

“Old man, is this mushroom poisonous?”

“Well, young master, if you ain’t careful with that one, it’ll kill you, I tell ya.”
“They call ’em red mushrooms—real pretty when ya see ’em.”
“They’re red as spilled rouge on top, pure white underneath—prettiest mushrooms there are, but ya can’t eat ’em.”
“Useless folks who just stare and suck their fingers when they see somethin’ they want—dousin’ ’em with salt ain’t gonna fix a thing—best toss ’em out for good.”
“There ya go,”

He started to say something and was about to leave—the old mountain guard lived alone in a small hut beneath a mountain temple five or six *chō* away from our hermitage.

Though battered by wind and rotted by rain, the stupas had not wholly perished—leaning as they were, moss-cloaked and tilting—and the communal graves still remained in great numbers beneath the pines’ shadows. Few visited them in spring, summer, or winter, though relatives did come during Obon; yet rather than let the sacred grounds fall further into ruin and their spiritual legacy fade to nothingness, compassionate townsfolk had attached small fields to sustain him—the mountain guard, whose round face bore a sooty hue, sunken eyes, a bulbous nose, and eyebrows of white wire-like hairs, five or six short strands growing sparse.
His patched leggings reached his knees; his hairy calves were thin and emaciated, yet he remained sturdy.
Climbing valleys, ascending peaks, passing through forests—staff-in-hand, he surveyed the surroundings—and with no thieves coming to lurk in the woods, my hermitage remained tranquil, and Maya seemed all the more dependable—so I too found myself growing fond of this life.

“I ain’t gonna eat it.
“Old man, I’m just toying with them.”

“Well, if that’s how it is...”

The old man was carrying a hand bucket.

“Any mushroom ya put in this water—if its shadow shows up clear, it’s safe to eat. If it’s blurry, that’s poison.”
“Remember that.”

He said earnestly.
I nodded,

“Let me have a drink.”
“My throat’s parched—can’t stand it anymore.”

“Here ya go—fresh from the temple’s first offerin’. Drink up now.”

I made to scoop it but hesitated.

“There’s no ladle, old man. Let’s go to your place.”

“What’s there to fret? I boiled tea for Buddha and all, but with those pretty hands of yours, young master—it’s all right—go on and dunk ’em in, drink up.”

Bowing his head, he scooped water into his palm and drank.
One should scoop its coolness; I knew the taste of this water.
During my outings when I had sampled water from that mountain temple’s well, it closely resembled that of our home.
“Truly fine water—there’s likely none to compare in the city,” my deceased mother had remarked.
This was by no means the first time—I too had often compared them.
The water from the bamboo channel at the hermitage where Maya and I now resided did not differ from this in taste.
In times of scorching heat, which of the three waters would I scoop—what state of mind would that bring?
All had been reduced to forgetting.

“C’mon now, no need to hold back—it’s water.”
“There—no call to insist, eh?”
“Oh, and then just a while ago—as I was returnin’ from the rice fields—a pair o’ fine-lookin’ women came trudgin’ along with a young servant lad and three young men carryin’ a palanquin.”
“Why, ’twas an empty palanquin!”
“Excuse me, could you tell us where to find the temple of the nun called Seishin-sama?”
“Well then, I showed ’em the way like takin’ ’em by the hand—but that palanquin ain’t for your use, is it?”
“If you’ve had enough of your games, go back before you end up a lost child—Madam must be waiting for you.”

Without another word, he walked away.
Is Maya unharmed?

II

Each mushroom resembled the slender branches of coral.
With stems white tinged pale red, some brown, others yellow—three or five of them—I did not discard the lawn mushrooms.
The most numerous gathered were red mushrooms.

In the mountain shade where the earth was the color of a mouse, amid dimness tinged with blackened decayed leaves, red mushrooms—their damp crimson dripping like spilled dye—had grown encircling an enoki tree stump as thick as a man could embrace, spreading across the ground without a speck of dust to cling to.
As I tried to take one from among them, a pitch-black snake and a small purple spider unexpectedly darted out, scurrying back and forth—so venomous in appearance that I left the remaining ones untouched.

Sitting at the base of a pine, I peered into the basket.
For whom had I gathered so many mushrooms? Alas, Maya must return to the city.

As the mountain guard had said, the palanquin came, and before I could reach it, it was set up squarely against the hermitage’s brushwood door. Sturdy men were there—one leaned his chin on a staff, the others sat below, smoking tobacco. Inside were youthful, clear, and quiet women’s voices—but Maya’s speech was not heard—how could I enter? It was precisely because meeting others felt so wearisome that both Maya and I had secluded ourselves within this hermitage. Since I felt reluctant to meet face-to-face, I slipped into the shadows. Though we had intentionally secluded ourselves—rendering eavesdropping futile—they had brought an empty palanquin; likely sent from the household to retrieve her, they would return empty-handed.

When the group would depart the hermitage, Maya too would not leave—even were I to eat nothing, I would not starve—what use were such things?

The single first mushroom remaining at the basket’s bottom—the one I had scattered and cast aside—now seemed all the more wretched, its surface tarnished where my hand had touched it, stained with a mottled greenish-crystal hue. Taking it in hand, I bowed my head as I looked.

My complexion had darkened; the day had swiftly faded to dusk.
The once-intense azure sky grew pale.
White clouds rose at the mountain’s edge as the moon’s lustrous shadow—like a silk robe—began its glow, spreading brushstroke-like across peaks ink-black in hue.
The mountain had not yet darkened.
Where sunset’s afterglow lingered, pale purple clouds hovered.
With a faint rustle came wind; pampas plumes swayed as autumn tinged the air about my shoulders.
Earlier, when sweat had broken upon me and thirst parched my throat, I had asked the old man for mountain well water—now I recalled its chill.
Between that self of then and this self of now lay a sense of division by the moon’s passage.
My gaunt form—clad in blue layered robes and black obi—sat upon the lonely mountain staring fixedly at itself: anyone in such a state bore the mark of one destined to become an orphan.

The small bamboo grass rustled, so he suddenly raised his head to look.

With the half-moon—its light now slightly intensified—at his back, a black-clad figure emerged abruptly from the cliffside, firewood tucked underarm, and appeared in the pampas grass field: it was that mountain guard I had encountered again.

“They still ain’t gone?”
“Oho, ’s gotten right nippy out.”

He spoke as if muttering to himself, and since such encounters had occurred often at times like these, he passed by without deliberately approaching, keeping his distance as he departed.

“Sen-chan.”

“Huh?”

I turned around in surprise.
When I turned around, a woman was there.

“You’re all alone in a place like this?”

She began to speak but first smiled.

She appeared to be nearing thirty—a fair-skinned beauty with lively eyes and a spirited demeanor, her obi tightly fastened and robes worn deep in dignified attire. Inserting a sparkling hairpin into her lustrous round chignon, she had lived in the town where I once resided and interacted with my deceased mother. Having been widowed at a young age, she served in Maya’s household—this I had long been aware of.

Their eyes met as they stood confronting one another.
I nodded calmly.

The woman stared intently at me but suddenly burst out laughing again.

“Well, this doesn’t look like the face of someone plotting an affair.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s nothing at all.”
“Sen-chan!”
“You…”
She started to say but then grew slightly more serious.

“Well, what on earth have you done? I was shocked!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that at all.”
“The saying goes, ‘Catch a thief only to find it’s your own child,’ but here we are—the one Madam favors turns out to be you.”
“Isn’t it shocking?”
“Oh, Sen-chan—never mind that. Just say something and get Madam to come back.”
“Even if back-alley grannies came rushing out, five or six neighboring houses would just go ‘Oh?’ and not make a fuss.”
“Sen-chan, how could it be? The young Madam of the household—whether you call it the lord’s castle or family mansion—hasn’t returned since that outing! They say she vanished right after—her whereabouts unknown!”

“If this gets out, it’ll become a nationwide commotion! Even if just the comings and goings scatter every which way, two or three thousand lanterns would be darting about. Just try to imagine!”

“If this were someone of lowly status—well, they’d come at you with a half-drawn kitchen knife or something and yell ‘Damn!’ They’d come charging out in an instant, but given their status—well, they can’t even raise their voices properly. The master’s gone pale as a ghost, I tell you.”

“This morning—you know Nun Seishin from your mountain hermitage? The one who regularly attends tea gatherings? She’s over eighty! Normally clatters down in clogs like anyone else, but today she shows up wearing straw sandals and this round bamboo hat thing. Can you imagine?

(‘Your Madam’s staying at my place—no need to fret. She won’t come crawling back to your doorstep like before, so put that mind at rest.’)”

“She spouts such noble words, then dashes off without even removing her straw sandals—didn’t she?”

“Let’s not stir up trouble now. When they inquired around, they found that Nun Seishin had been visiting every last one of her devotees’ homes these past four or five days—

(‘I’ve resolved to undertake a pilgrimage. Consider this my farewell—do not seek me for a time.’
‘And mark this well: none of you shall open these doors while I am away.’)”

“And they say she went around visiting like that—leaving the most crucial household for last! Isn’t that just cruel?”

Three

“We can’t just leave it be—no, it’s far beyond that. Since they demanded an immediate retrieval—you—when I inquired with the master, well, what do you think happened?”

“During that outing, someone among the attendants discovered Madam was staying at Seishin-an and reported it to the master. Since making a scene would disgrace the household, they’ve discreetly sent messengers multiple times until now—or so they say.”

“No matter what they say, Madam remains utterly unperturbed and refuses to return.”
“What?!”
“Preposterous!”
“No matter what they said, we decided to drag her back—me and Nakasan here—the two of us brought attendants and a palanquin, huffing and puffing our way up the mountain.”

“When we tracked her down and went to plead at the Nun’s house—young master—”

(Who...,)

...she said, and in that dim light, she extended her arm from chest height—her five slender pure-white fingers catching on the screen’s edge were clearly visible—Madam herself.

“Her hair was slightly disheveled, and she wore a wisteria-colored lined robe—Sen-chan, isn’t that the very one I fastened from behind when she went out the other day? She looked striking.”
“Oh!” they all drew back.

“I was shocked—well, if we’re speaking of the past, but first of all, you—the one we call our Madam—I thought she would have already forgotten who she was after these five or six years.”

There was no one.
"Well, as for you," she said defiantly,

(Another welcoming party.)

With that, she was laughing—or so they said.
(No such thing—absurd.)

(You’ve all worked so hard.
But I still won’t return, so don’t trouble yourselves.
If you rest awhile, you should go back.
I could offer tea, but really—the water from the bamboo channel in the garden tastes far better.)

How utterly composed she remained.
Somehow appalled by her excessive calmness, we stood dumbfounded—to the point where we wondered if we weren’t being bewitched after all.

“We couldn’t very well suddenly push her from behind or yank her by the hand, so—half out of courtesy—we mentioned the mansion’s state, though her status goes without saying.”
“At her family home, both her parents are in good health, there’s no mother-in-law to speak of, and she has one sister-in-law.”
“The master would be aware of this as well.”
“However, she wasn’t unwell, nor was she lacking anything—so why would she wish to become a nun? That’s what Nakasan and I both said.”
“Madam—”

“No, I will not become a nun.”
“Oh? So you’ve deigned to come all this way again—”
“I have some business to attend to—”
Since she said that, we asked what business she had.
“That’s exactly why I’m here—because being told such things is bothersome. Enough—go back.”
Such was her demeanor.
“But that just won’t do.”
“Whether she returns or not—there’s no such thing.”

“Well, even if I won’t press you about that—when I asked if you were alone in this house,”

“(Two people.)” she stated.

She couldn’t stay silent.

“Given these circumstances, she isn’t staying with the Nun—and as for who she’s with as the second person—”

“(Just a dear child,)” she laughed.

“Hmm, there’s nothing to this,”
Given her status as the Madam of a noble household being tended to—when you consider her name being Maya-sama and “Madam” meaning the mistress—it’s none other than the Madam of the Daiyamato Library herself.
“In short, since Madam Maya has known no hardship, she’s likely staging this snowy mountain retreat as some stylish amusement.”
“That’s quite the elaborate whim.”

“Well, I thought as much—but Sen-chan, given her usual bearing, she wouldn’t carry on like this… would she?”

“Because she said ‘a dear child,’ I wondered if she’d taken a fancy to someone at the nunnery or even found a bush warbler or such—but when I went to see, imagine my shock—it was you, Sen-chan.”

(Since there have always been rumors, you all must know.)
“Ran, you know full well.)”

The one she had called that was none other than a man of eighteen—no wonder Nakasan was shocked.
“Sen-chan, I haven’t seen you in so long, and I don’t know how you’ve been these past days—Sen-chan—hmm, Sen-chan, child of O-Tae-san, to be honest, at first I too thought that might be the case, but when you think about it, how long did you expect to remain nine or ten years old?”
“When I realized you were already eighteen, I was shocked.”

“It’s nothing—it’s an affair, right?”

“No matter how much one deliberates, Madam is another man’s wife.”
“No matter how grand she is as the Madam of the mansion, she remains a wife in the end.”
“A wife, Sen-chan—even if it’s you she’s with—hiding away with a man means only one thing. Don’t take offense now—it’s simply how the world works.”

“Outrageous! To think such impertinence from this rude, brutish brat—insolent! Appalling! Contemptible! That wicker tea stand in my house still bears the tooth marks from when some infant crawled about gnawing and sucking on it!”
“If I give you a proper scolding—well, I’d hate for you to get angry.”

四

“If only Madam would agree to return obediently, it would be nothing—but she absolutely refuses to go back.”

“Even if she refuses to return, that alone won’t settle matters. What on earth could she be intending?”

(To live with that child—)

“But if that’s all you have to say, it’s a problem. No matter what you do, we cannot allow you to stay together with Sen-chan.”

(“So isn’t that exactly why I’m staying in this house?”)

“But isn’t this house a nunnery in the mountains? If you stay in such a place with that child as two people, what will the world say?”

(“I don’t care what they say—”)

“In that case, you will not suffice for your husband. Firstly, your parents—or furthermore—”

“No, that’s precisely why I have no intention of ever associating with people again. I understand—so it’s fine. You all leave now. It’s fine—because I understand.)”

“And are there such things you don’t understand? Look, Sen-chan—no matter how much we’re your servants, reason has its limits! If we keep objecting to such unreasonable demands, in the end it’ll just—”

(But it can’t be allowed—it can’t be allowed.)

She repeated this endlessly. Now that things had come to this, she cared nothing for what anyone did. “Whatever it takes—we’ll apologize later—even if we must use force! We’re five people here—what of it! Against a Madam like that, force-wise, this Ran alone would suffice!” With that declaration, she resolutely—

“What are you doing? You all—what do you take me for?”

Because she said that, I replied, “Well, that’s Madam of the mansion,” and then—

(Do you think maids can get away with such violence?)
(If it were my husband he wouldn’t know—and even my parents wouldn’t lift a finger.)

For all her authoritative demeanor whenever she sat resolutely one couldn’t help but shrink back.
But if she said such incomprehensible things she was no longer Madam or anything.

(If it’s someone else just leave them be.)

“That’s just how it is. After all, she wouldn’t deign to consent to anything we proposed—given her temperament, there was no reasoning with her. But that alone wouldn’t settle matters in the world.”

“Then, if the master himself deigns to come retrieve—”

(Still, I won’t go back.)

“If they tried to force her—”

(That would only jeopardize her social standing.)

“What on earth were they deigning to do? In that case, I had no choice but to ask—which matters more, the master or you, Sen-chan?”
“Then young master—”

(Well, the master can do without me—but if I don’t stay with Sen-chan, he’ll die—it’s too pitiful.)

“And with that, there’s nothing more to say.”
“It’s here—right here—Sen-chan! What on earth is this? Well—what have *you* done?”

The woman began to speak again and gazed at my face.
I took a single breath.

“Maya-san knows—I don’t understand anything.”

“What? You don’t understand?
“You… well, your own affairs are your own.”

I should say something.

“If you understood that much，I wouldn’t end up like this.”
“Oh dear，it’s like this here again.”

V

The woman began again,

“When it comes down to it, Sen-chan—what exactly do you intend to do by staying here with Madam?”

As for that, even I did not know.

“It’s nothing special.”

“Well.”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, just cook the rice.”

“Trivial matters.”

“Come on, cook the rice, eat it, and then...”

“We’re talking.”

“Talk, and then...”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, and then...”

“I’ll just end up sleeping.”

“This isn’t a game.”
“And young master—how long do you intend to keep this up?”

“Until I die.”

“Huh? ‘Until I die.’
“That’s beyond reasonable limits now.”
“Well, if that’s how it is, we’d best make this quick—but listen here, Sen-chan.”
“I’m not some hereditary servant to that household, mind you—to put it plainly, I was acquainted with your mother too, and truth be told, I’m fonder of you than our master.”
“You get it, right?”

“Anyway, no matter how pretty your face is—even if you’ve taken a mistress—at my age there’s no sense being jealous. Let me lay it bare: have you gotten involved with Madam?”
“Well, Sen-chan, if you’ve done it, own up to it.”
“Enjoy yourself!”
“So why don’t we just wrap this up?”
“I’m dying to know—have you done it with her?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me! If you’ve done it, just say so and be done.”

“But how would I know whether we’d done it?”

“Hmm, this doesn’t seem like something you could fabricate.”
“No, it’s not like I’m feigning loyalty—but Madam was so unreasonable that even I got upset.”
“Given how things unfolded—you see, with matters like this—everyone’s sure it’s all that child’s fault.”
“For a brat, you’re too forward—when did you grow so precocious? I ought to grab you and make you apologize.”
“Well, since I thought that if it were me, I wouldn’t let them utter a peep—I’ve no justification, my standing’s shaky—so I left things over there to Onakasan and came looking for you.”

“When I meet you, it’s just Sen-chan after all—with things like this, there’s no affair or anything happening here. I don’t understand any of this—but really, what exactly is going on between our Madam and you, young master?”

I did not know—nor could I find words to explain this either.

“Maya-san was so kind, wasn’t she?”

“Madam is just a good friend.”

Thus it was indeed.

“That’s exactly right.”

He showed no sign of consenting.

“But really—what manner of person faints merely from seeing a dear friend’s face after five years apart—or six? Such things don’t happen.”
“Sen-chan—why would you claim such nonsense?”
“Madam herself recounted how you swooned upon meeting her at the nunnery recently—didn’t you?”
“Then she spoke those kind words—‘How could I abandon one who cares so deeply?’—so explain this riddle!”

Indeed, such a thing had occurred, and later I heard it from Maya and came to know.

“But since I didn’t notice anything myself, I don’t know why it happened.”

“Even if you say you don’t know, isn’t that strange?”

“I’ll ask Maya-san.”

“If you ask Madam, she’ll just say to ask Sen-chan. What on earth is going on? None of this makes any sense to us.”

Indeed, the full details of such matters would not be known to one who was not a nun.

“You—even we can’t put it into proper words.”
“Since the Nun knows all about it, you should ask her if you want to know.”

“There now—it’s that Nun again! That Nun doesn’t understand anything at all.”

“Famous monks, erudite scholars, bishops—name any rank—among today’s monastic community, though she’s a woman, there’s none like Nun Seishin of the mountains.”

“Even past eighty, she graciously performs standing recitations of all twenty-eight Lotus Sutra volumes without sipping a single tea—such austerity makes even rival sect followers bow to that Nun.”

“And what of this?”
“You’ve shared confidences and built love’s bridge for them, haven’t you?”
“It’s naught but a meddlesome hairdresser’s scheme, I say.”
“Worse still—if she abandons that dim nunnery to youngsters with some airy farewell and vanishes one day, young master, they’ll brand it shameless precept-breaking!”
“Outrageous!”
“Sen-chan—though that Nun’s kept her vows pure into her eighties, what madness has she wrought for you?”
“Is Sen-chan’s household part of her lineage?”
“Otherwise it defies sense.”
“What karmic bond ties this?”

She pressed her question with heartfelt intensity.

Since it concerned the Nun，I decided to speak a little.

“You already know—that Mother threw herself and died.”

“Ah.”
“That… well, the Nun killed her.”
“What did you say?”
The woman was startled and opened her eyes wide.

Six

“No—I don’t mean she laid hands on her.
“I was only nine then, so I don’t know details—but Mother had some worry that made her despise this world and brood endlessly. Thinking the famous Nun might console her if she spoke of it... she took my hand... and this was winter.”

We climbed the mountain through flurrying snow to visit the nunnery, where she wrote and erased things in the hearth while having a serious talk, and after about two hours, we returned. It was just dusk, and the wind was howling.

The Nun saw us off to the threshold, and when we parted and left, she closed the door. When we had walked a little way, from inside—

When I heard the Nun exclaim “Ooh, cold, cold!” in a loud, impolite voice from within, Mother stopped in her tracks and—for some reason—changed her expression, something I remember even with my childish mind. Then, when we trudged dejectedly down the mountain, it was already fully dark, and the snow… had turned to sleet.

When we reached the bridge over the river at the foot of the mountain, the water was a murky gray and full, coiling in great serpentine folds with a roaring sound.
The sleet became like jet-black lines and, splattering sideways against our cheeks, vanished.
The withered willows covering every mountain whirled into vortices, forming a forest so dense not a single light could be seen.
Mother,

(Even if one becomes a nun, it’s still cold.)

She murmured as if to herself, then went off somewhere.
I was so dazed I didn’t notice a thing.

Ah!
After that, I never saw her face again.
Years and months blurred in memory.
Yet while I clearly remember Maya-san’s wedding, I have no recollection of when we first met—though I believe it must have been that year when I came to know her.

As for me—even if they say Mother has passed away—I can’t bring myself to accept it.

I understood that well enough, and knew Mother had passed away—but I just couldn’t bring myself to let go. What was the point? Even if I went to school or interacted with people—Mother wouldn’t come back alive. What use would it be? The more I thought that, the more I wanted to see her face—I couldn’t bear it. "What should I do? What should I do?" Please, someone help me—I pleaded like that, and after Maya-san married and we could no longer meet, I went and pestered the Nun even more. I threw a tantrum.

She seemed to understand everything, to know it all, to be capable of anything—as if she possessed divine powers. Thinking there was no way she wouldn’t help somehow, I laid bare all my thoughts and then, shutting my eyes, lashed out at the Nun.

“That’s how it is.”

There’s no other reason—nothing at all.
The other day too, when I went to the Nun’s place and was doing that usual routine, the one who slipped inside was Maya-san.

I hadn’t known anything, but when I became aware, the Nun was stroking my head—

“Little Sen—this will suffice.
Since there’s rice and salt in the shed... take them out and eat as you please.
I’ll be going into town for mendicancy.
Keep quiet and stay put while I’m away—mind you.”

Having said that—she put on straw sandals and departed—showing no sign of returning.

Maya-san stays here with me, and if I'm with Maya-san, I can somehow bear Mother's memory—so I've thrown everything else away.

You—you wouldn't understand my reasons anyway.
If Maya-san's here, I don't want to eat anything at all—that's what I said.
"Since we get along so well, we're just close friends, right?"

Even as I spoke these words, countless thoughts swirled through my mind.
When the pain rose in my chest, I bowed my head.
Though the woman remained beside me, her presence grated on my nerves.

“So there’s nothing left to say—about that matter being unforgivable, or obligations, or whether it’s not so inexcusable—I won’t hear another word.”
“Because talking with people is such a bother—that’s why we live like this—it makes no difference—just leave already.”
“If you insist Maya-san should return, then take her back.”
“She likely won’t agree to what you people propose anyway.”

I do not adjust my collar.
The woman—who had crouched with her head gradually drooping until one hand clutched the grass in her sunken posture—now slowly lifted her face at this moment, fixing her gaze anew as though pondering something else yet seemingly beholding my countenance; then she spoke in a hushed voice.

“Very well.”
“Sen-chan, though our hearts seem utterly different and your words don’t sit right with me—even after all that was said earlier—if the Nun were to come here now, we’d still have to bow our heads.”
“Since I hold the Nun in high regard, there must be some understood reason behind that person’s deigning to act thus.”
“Well, whatever may happen later, whatever people may say—this place is no stage for us. It’s the Nun’s arrangement; we’ll manage to give it some form, I suppose. So, Sen-chan, I’ll be going back with that thought.”

“Somehow I feel all dazed myself—like my mind’s gone strange—I don’t get it—but seeing how things are, Sen-chan, even if you and Madam shared a single bed, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.”
“You don’t look too cheerful either when I see you, and I’m worried about matters over there—so I’ll take my leave now.”
“Listen—if you ever need anything—come sneak over to my place.”

As if to say just that, she stood up.
When I saw her off, our eyes met,
“What a little brat you are.”

She stepped back slightly and tilted her face at an angle,

“Well then—what face could’ve led Madam astray so? Let me get a good look.”

She started to say, then smiled faintly.

They abruptly moved forward; across the way echoed footsteps as a group of four figures came into view. They had them carry away the empty palanquin just as it was. They would indeed return empty-handed. Maya—who had not abandoned me—stood up briskly; placing a hand on my shoulder to keep me seated below, the woman stepped forward to block their path. From the eyes of those now drawing near, she had shielded this wretched self.

The dwarf bamboo grew tall while pampas plumes cast dense shadows that concealed any human presence beneath them. They wound along paths and slopes where pine needles scattered across their downward trail near our watchful gaze.
The woman who had followed them now observed their retreat in stealth.
There was indeed something within the palanquin.
Upon layered bedding meant for nobility lay not Maya herself but only her wisteria-hued kimono arranged with ceremonial care.
This had likely been sent as remembrance.
They must have prepared this household memento.
A chrysanthemum branch adorned the kimono’s silken surface.
Black silhouettes bore the swaying palanquin through moonlight that transformed chrysanthemums into spectral snowdrifts—white petals scattering across mountain trails until both bearers and blossoms disappeared beyond sight’s reach.

Without finishing seeing them off, I turned back and ran to enter through the woven-branch door—the hermitage’s interior was dark.

“I’m back!”

I stepped energetically onto the threshold and called out, but there came no reply—only the rustle of silk as a pale hand pressed down, a figure suddenly standing behind the room divider near shoulder, collar, breast area, Maya’s face smiling through gaps in crow-black hair.

The bamboo channel clattered; in the thicket, a single insect chirped—and I felt my hair stand on end.

The insect’s cry, the bamboo channel’s flow, my foot upon the threshold—in that moment, a figure appeared behind the room divider. Never before had I encountered such a moment as this.
Was it Mother or Maya? I cannot recall.
Was it a dream? I do not know—perhaps it was a matter from a past life.

Meiji 30 (1897), July