Pathway to Japanese Literature

At that moment, my wife, who had just finished cleaning up after lunch, passed by us and went straight into the living room.
While teaching English to the boys, I gazed at the hot summer shadows filtering through the deep green foliage of the backyard.
In the garden, I could see garishly red Ezogiku chrysanthemums illuminated by the sun.

The living room into which my wife had entered also faced a front garden lush with trees, its cool expanse laid out before it.
There, the daughters and young children were lounging about when suddenly—as if some unfamiliar intruder had arrived—an unsettled commotion stirred the air, and soon the youngest girl came scampering over here.

“Oh my, what a rare visit!”

Following this, I heard my wife’s voice raised in astonishment.

The arrival of a guest who rarely visited was something that even I, sitting here, could clearly grasp.
“Oh, please—this way.”
“This place is rather unsuitable… Please,” I heard my wife say, insistently trying to guide the guest toward the tatami room.
Moreover, whether out of deference or perhaps attempting to show that—despite her infrequent visits—she was intimate enough to boldly enter the living room without impropriety, I detected a reluctance in the guest to readily move toward the tatami room.

Who could it be?

Thus I thought.

Moreover, since the wife persisted tenaciously—as though proper greetings could not be exchanged otherwise—the guest too, as if resigned to having no choice, said, “Very well, then I must beg your pardon,” and rose to be guided toward the tatami room.

To me, who that guest was still hadn’t become clear.

The wife soon came over here.

“Who?”

“It’s O-toki-san.”

“O-toki? That’s unusual... Did she come alone?”

“She came with a girl around nine years old—”

“Hmm, that’s unusual…. I can’t remember how many years it’s been. What twist of fate brings this about? Once I finish up here, I’ll come right away,” I said, hurrying to conclude the English lesson I’d been giving the children as quickly as possible.

After my wife had carried in tea and sweets, I also entered.

“Oh!”

“Oh, Uncle!”

As if searching for one another—or as if gazing intently at the time that had passed between them—after those words, we said nothing more for a while.
I discovered, in place of the young niece who had remained vividly impressed in my heart until today, an already aged housewife with strands of gray hair mixed in, her dark-complexioned hair tied in a small swept-back chignon.
The girl who had accompanied her wore a vibrant merino kimono fastened with a patterned crepe obi, her face lovely in appearance.

“You came…”
“I never thought you’d come… Still, how many years has it been since we last met?”

“That’s right…
“It’s been over ten years since I last saw you.”
“It’s not that I don’t always think about visiting—since we’re both in Tokyo—but poverty leaves no time, and with so many children to care for…”
“Even stepping out briefly proves quite impossible, you see.”

Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but detect lingering traces of bygone nostalgia around her forehead.
It was as though a beautiful painting had gradually faded with time—

There, all manner of hardships, all manner of trials, all manner of adversities had been distinctly imprinted.
The traces of the long life she had lived appeared vividly upon her eyebrows, forehead, hair, and entire figure.
I felt sad.

“Do you have any more children younger than this one?”

When I asked this,

“No… There was one until recently…”
“We lost them.”
“Now this one’s my youngest…”

“When did they pass away?” interjected my wife, who had been sitting beside us.

“This April… And with eight years between this one and the child we lost, I’m at such a loss—I just can’t forget, and it’s been so hard.”
“Sometimes I take out the swaddling clothes and end up crying or doing things like that, you know.”

“They say parting with a child in one’s later years is truly painful, don’t they?”
“They say it’s so hard not to be able to forget them, don’t they?”

“It’s true.”

Even now, memories of that child seemed to well up vividly within her, and I saw faint tears seep into those large black eyes.

What a sensitive soul she was!
In her youth, how beautiful must the tears that welled up in those dark, lovely eyes have been?
And how beautiful and rich must the color of her cheeks, down which those tears trailed, have been?
The heart of that woman, who had yearned for love, yearned for romance, and yearned for life, still faintly trembled with the sorrow of that lost child even now.

“Children are a matter of physical bonds, you know.”
“It really can’t be helped, you know.”

I ventured to say such things.

Quickly continuing my words, “Even so, today’s visit is unusual… Did you have some errand nearby?”

“Since we’ve moved here, this time nearby—”

“Where to?”

“Higashi-Ōkubo…”

“Oh, that’s close….”
“Can’t you stay where you were before?”

“No, it’s not that there’s anything wrong with it, but they insist we have to move no matter what… Even the place we’re at now isn’t a good house though… we have to move again though…” She paused briefly, then added, “Today, for some reason, I suddenly wanted to come see Uncle in Shinmachi, so that’s why I came out here though…—”

“So, did you stop by?”
“To Shinmachi?”
“Uh…”

“Ojiisan must be weakening.”
“He might not make it this time…”

“That’s right….”
“When I think fondly of the past and come to visit occasionally, he’s already… like this, you see.”
“He’s already eighty-four, I hear?”

“That uncle is the longest-lived among our family’s circle….”
“No—not just within our family, but in every regard, he’s the last remaining person from the old days.”
“If that uncle dies, the atmosphere from before the Restoration will vanish entirely.”
“Did you hear what happened after that Okada matter?”

“I hear the master there has also passed away now.”
“I’m sure you heard from Uncle about that master passing away as well.”
“They say when everyone dies, they go together one after another, you know.”

I made as if to think,

“I’ve been observing the Okada family, my aunt and uncle for a very long time, but when I think about it, it feels strange.”
“When I think about the time when that uncle and aunt lived in that corner house, it feels exactly like a dream.”
“You remember that well too, don’t you?”

“Of course I know… When I was about ten, I often walked alone through that Shinmachi street.”
“Aunt, how are you today?”
“What was it she used to say?”
“She was truly a wonderful aunt, you know.”
“Auntie,” she asked, “how many years has it been since she passed away?”

“This year makes thirteen years.”

“Is that so… already—”

Having said this with a start, O-toki sank deep into thought; then,

“Mrs. Okada was such a dignified, fine lady.”
“You couldn’t hope to see someone like her these days.”

“It’s true… Women with that classic elegance have all disappeared….”
“Even while we speak of trivial things, time keeps flowing onward, doesn’t it?”
“Even as we go on talking like this—”

“That’s true.”

In this manner, the niece said in a voice tinged with emotion.

Memories of my younger days came flooding back to me.

“How many years has it been since you left Funagoshi?”

Recalling how I had once cast this niece as a romantic counterpart, I asked this question.

“It’s been twenty years now.”

“Is that so…”

“When I was twenty, I went there, and then when I began working at the Tokyo Navy Ministry from home, I believe I was twenty-four.”

“Is that so… Has it really been that long already—” Having said this, I couldn’t help but sink into deep thought.

“It still feels like yesterday though…”

“Time passes quickly, doesn’t it?”

“Next to that torpedo depot stood a factory, with workers’ tenements over here and naval officials’ residences further back—in front of them was a beautiful well where the evening sun would shine… Don’t you remember standing there watching the water fill your bucket… How young we were back then!”

“Truly, I was happy at that time.”
“When I came as a bride to this distant place and was unbearably lonely, Uncle suddenly came to visit me,” she said thoughtfully. “Why has Uncle, who was once so deeply connected to me, grown so distant now?”
“It must have been ten or even fifteen years since we last met, hasn’t it?”

“……”

“How did things truly come to be this way?”

“When you ask why like that, it’s rather difficult… But I suppose it’s because there was a part that had loved deeply.”
“The more deeply one loves, the further one must become when separation comes.”

“Why ever is that?!”

“That’s just how it is.”
“As for love—generally speaking, some might say that the more you love someone, the more you think of their well-being, but that’s ultimately an ideal.”

“Is that really how it is…? Somehow, I just can’t understand…?”

“So it must be the same for you. Until now, you must have resented me—thinking things like, ‘Uncle could have done a little more for me…’ or ‘Even though he loved me so much—’ But that resentful heart, that dissatisfied heart—that was what made it perilous.”
“Now that it’s come to this, I can say it clearly—”

“Why ever is that?”

Despite understanding perfectly well, my niece deliberately assumed an expression of incomprehension.

“Oh, that’s fine—never mind about such things—”

“……”

This time, the niece fell silent and became lost in thought.
It seemed that even for my niece, the memory of us crossing over the cool waves to Yokosuka by boat—just the two of us, under the shifting sunlight from Funagoshi—had come back vividly.

Even now, the scene from that time appeared vividly before my eyes.
We left that house in Funagoshi and climbed a small mountain pass path.
“The ferry will be difficult today.” Once again, the figure of my wife—who had said this to us from behind—rose clearly in my mind.
From the mountain pass, Nagaura Bay surged white and vast, like a boiling cauldron.
The rain had not yet begun to fall, but the gray clouds hung low, and over the distant cliffs, they seemed poised to engulf the waves at any moment.

In any case, we descended the mountain pass and headed toward the ferry landing near the shore.
At that time, my niece was wearing a bold striped meisen kimono with a peony-colored obi featuring a large floral pattern.
Because she had come from the countryside and not much time had passed since then, there remained an innocent quality to her demeanor reminiscent of a country girl.

At the ferry hut stood a single fifty-something old man.

“Well…”

Having said this, the old man scrutinized the two of us, then exited the hut and gazed out at the storm-tossed sea.

“I don’t think it’s anything too serious, but…”

“It really is rough out there.”

“It’s rough out there, but not yet so terrible as they say.” Having said this, he gazed out at the sea again, then resolutely— “Let’s go.”

Having said this, he hoisted the large boat onto his shoulders and strode ahead.

We also followed behind.

Though this ferry was built considerably larger than the barges typically used on rivers, once we had rowed out fifteen or eighteen yards, it became immediately clear just how violently the sea was raging.
The boat rose high and sank low with each wave.
At times, waves struck the gunwale and shattered into white spray like scattered salt.

“Are you all right?”

“Oh, I’m fine…”

Although my niece said this, her complexion gradually began to show anxiety.

“Keep watching the water.
That way you won’t get seasick.”

“Mm-hmm.”

As the boat’s rocking gradually intensified, my niece gripped the gunwale tightly with her hands and, appearing frightened or as though evading an unavoidable peril, drew her body closer to mine.

What this meant for my niece, I cannot say—but for me, for one who had awakened to desire unnaturally early, and equally for one who had immersed himself in romantically excessive novels and tales, this scene was one I could not help but regard as a peculiar sort of fascinating spectacle.
The more fear accompanied it, the more that mental landscape became exaggerated and grew taut with tension.

Last night, I once again recreated here the sensation of when my niece, her husband, and I—the three of us—had lain side by side on bedding. Being still young and knowing everything only through books and pictures, I had no other way but to rely on such illusions to bring those facts into reality. I remembered that I hadn’t been able to sleep well last night. It seemed my niece had also been unable to sleep, for I recalled how she had sat up repeatedly on the bedding during the night.

Tormented by an unsound mind and the fierce awakening of sexual desire, I took great interest in imagining myself as a sorrowful, heartbroken lover.
If I had truly been this woman’s possessor, how would things have been?
In that case, I likely could not have endured a night lying side by side on bedding.
Moreover, having left home together like this, we would surely never have returned.
As I thought this, even our act of crossing that storm-tossed sea together began to feel strikingly fitting—a natural course of events.

If the boat were to capsize here—if that happened—someone could prove that we were not lovers.
Moreover—could someone prove that true love had not ignited between us at that very moment of capsizing?
Though our consciousness of physical proximity—so active within society’s bounds—made it impossible to reach such depths… what if we faced death? What if we resolved to die—?

“Are you getting seasick?”

“No.”

“Keep looking at the water… But I didn’t think it would be this rough.”

“That’s true. Under normal circumstances, it’s a calm, uneventful place, but…”

She looked ahead for a moment,

“We haven’t even come halfway yet, have we?”

“That’s right.”

“It looks terrible over there.”

Having said this, my niece pointed toward the area where the waves were swirling white.

Even now, I could vividly visualize before my eyes—as though it were a painting—the small boat carrying the two of us drifting amidst towering waves, rising and sinking amid violently surging swells that coiled like swirling eddies.
Even so, if there and then that boat had capsized and the two of us had sunk into the sea—if we had died like lovers—
No—even had we not died there, would not that scene alone—the mere fact that the two of us floated amidst those surging waves—have remained for our lives as a vividly painted scroll?

And as our boat drifted perilously over the ridges of waves, at that very moment, we saw a launch that had departed from the naval torpedo depot—its grayish-white, nimble, long hull gallantly cutting through the surging waves—racing straight toward Yokosuka.

“If it’s that kind of launch, waves like these would be nothing.”

When I said this,

“That’s true.”

My niece said this and stared fixedly at the launch speeding swiftly away.

Later, I learned that my niece’s husband had been aboard that launch.
It turned out that on that day, he had business requiring him to go to the naval port, so he had ridden that launch from his government office.
Consequently, the sight of the two of them sitting listlessly in the boat, drifting along at the mercy of the waves, was said to have appeared as clear as if one could reach out and touch it.

When I heard that, I was struck by a strange feeling. At that time, could it be that my niece’s husband held at least some jealousy toward me? Could he not have felt anxiety? I could not prevent vivid visions of unknown men and women’s innermost depths from rising before my eyes.

The two of us went to the town of Yokosuka at that time and had our photograph taken posing like lovers. To this day, it remains in the photo box at my house….

Transferring one’s youthful sexual awakening onto women close at hand and taking pleasure in it—I do not think I was alone in this.
Given the demands of our young, taut bodies at that time, we simply could not have lived with any composure otherwise.

It was on the return journey.
I left Funagoshi, crossed over the mountain pass, and made my way to Zushi.
It was a cloudy day, but even so, the rain had not yet begun to fall.
The oppressive air of late spring flowers weighed unbearably on my chest.

Stories, poems, love, death—my body was filled with such things.
The woman I had parted from could not be thought of as a niece by blood.
A lover—no, I could only think of her as a lover bound deeply, deeply to me.
The fact that tears had been visible in her eyes as she watched me go from the veranda for a long time was more than enough to draw my feelings in that direction.
Before I knew it, I had become the protagonist in a sad story of unrequited love.

I imagined my niece’s life in various ways.
Especially the thought of her bed at night tormented me beyond endurance.
It was precisely because of society’s constraints regarding physical bonds that—no matter how deeply we had cared for each other, no matter how perfectly our hearts had aligned………………………………………………I found myself plunged into an abyss of utter despair.

By the time I arrived at Zushi Station, I had become a thoroughly despondent young man.

Even now, I could see my figure there—wearing a black Kiyarako *haori*, with long hair and a pale face.
I could see myself sitting motionless under the large clock on the platform beyond the ticket gate, neither truly looking at my surroundings nor averting my gaze.
Looking back, that time must have been the darkest period in my life.
Had I faltered—had I taken one misstep and wandered in that direction—by the next day, my corpse might have been lying on the shore washed by waves...

The train arrived.

In a daze, I boarded it.
When I came to my senses after some time, I found myself in a dark corner of the third-class compartment, sitting perfectly still with my head pressed against the window.
Kamakura had already passed by.

At that moment, an accident occurred at Ōfuna, and the train stopped for about an hour.

It was already evening.
The western sky hung heavy with clouds, stained in one patch by a dull crimson sunset that summoned within me an indescribably turbid, desolate mood.
It made me think of death—of my muddied love and the murky blood coursing through my body.
I wanted to smash my head against the window just like that and die.

Some time passed.

And then, this time, I became overwhelmingly sad.
Tears kept flowing from my eyes.
Tears kept flowing until both my cheeks were soaked.
Despite that, I did not even attempt to wipe them.
I simply let them flow.
Afterwards, I sobbed.

There was nothing around me. Even if there had been anything, those tears obstructed it, and I surely saw nothing. Even as the train approached Hodogaya, tears still streamed.

Was it slightly before that, or after? I wrote a long, long novel. It was titled *Yama no Kage*.

Of course, I wrote the niece there. I wrote about the niece and myself living together. Moreover, it was in the shadow of a lonely, lonely mountain—

I tried to lay bare there a love that was not romantic love.
Diligently, I endeavored to develop a love that was not love—one that avoided such issues.
As a result, I became lonely, and my niece became lonely as well.
Consequently, the two lonely hearts ended up solitary in a form where they were together in that small house in the shadow of the lonely mountain.

Even so, I did not attempt to write about the emergence of passionate love between those two lonelinesses.
I was so afraid of societal morality.
I, contrarily, wrote about my niece secretly coming to love my friend.

*Why can’t I become husband and wife with my niece? Why is it wrong?* I often thought such things.

Of course, that lengthy novel was never completed; I abandoned my pen midway.

“Is that so?”
“When you love someone… does it really make you drift apart like this?”

My niece—unaware I still carried those vivid impressions of the past—spoke these words and fixed me with an unwavering gaze.

“…………”

I kept silent.

“But please… don’t say such things. Just be like you were before…”
“I’ll try… to visit more often from now on… little by little…”

“The children are nearly all grown now!”

“It’s not exactly like that, but…”

“Once you’re closer, it’s better to come visit from time to time.”

My niece seemed to ponder, “But I can’t even imagine you ever becoming the kind ‘Uncle’ you used to be again.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, it seems so.”

Saying this, the niece laughed.

“Have you not gone back to the countryside since that one time, huh?”

After a while, I ventured to ask like this.

“T Town?”

“That’s right.”
“I’ve never been there at all….”
“Now that you mention it, it really has been quite some time, hasn’t it?”
“It was in that town that I truly came to understand what Uncle was like after gaining awareness.”

“With the railway now running from Shirakawa, you can go there easily these days, can’t you?”

“Have you been there yourself, Uncle?”

“I mean to go—I haven’t yet.”
“I want to see those old traces, witness the aftermath of that farce—”

“You mean Y?”

“Exactly…”
“It’s ridiculous when you think—making that special trip for an adoption interview…”
“Only to be spectacularly rejected.”

“It wasn’t exactly rejection, I suppose… But how much better it must have been for you to stay independent like this rather than becoming some adopted son in that place.”
“Had you gone through with it… you might never have become who you are now…”

“But it’s nice to be carefree—it would’ve been better if I’d become a country priest or something—”
“That’s not true.”
Having said this, the niece laughed.

“Did a man who left the military or something become that girl’s adopted son, huh?”

“Is that so? I really don’t know at all—”

“At that time, you were still young, you know. Because you were still a girl then— How was it? Compared to your own thoughts back then, how did you find the world? Was it enjoyable? Or was it painful?”

“It was both enjoyable and painful. When I look back and think about it, there are times when I’m amazed I managed to get through it all. It’s as if I’ve somehow managed to get this far in a daze.”

“That’s probably true…”
“However, you still have it better.”
“You’ve had an easier time of it.”
“Because even if there were material shortages under such a husband’s protection—with no lack in your heart—you’ve given birth to and raised so many children like this…”

“Is that so?”

“Exactly… You must be deeply grateful to such a husband.”
“Because you’ve never encountered the hardships that come between men and women…”
“Because you’ve been able to steadily persevere.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Why, you ask….”
“It doesn’t mean anything in particular, though.”
“There are hardships, you know.”
“In the world—”
“Within our hearts—”

“Is that so?”

The niece stared meaningfully at my face again.

To me, it felt as though every scene from the loves I had experienced was rising vividly before my eyes.
“This niece too had been one of those picture scrolls,” I soliloquized inwardly.
I stared fixedly at the niece’s face.