Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

The long-awaited T Hot Springs were finally drawing near.
Once they reached there, it would practically be like returning home.
From there to F was three ri; at that pier, ferries crossing the strait waited faithfully morning and night for passengers, and once one stepped onto their deck, one's very self would be borne across to the far shore.
In the bus from W Town, K let out a sigh of relief.

"Tomorrow morning's ferry would make things rather tight."

When the painter S, who had long accompanied him on their journey, heard this, a faint smile appeared on his face.

"The morning would be rather difficult."
"It would have to be in the evening, wouldn’t it?"

"Is that so?"

"Well, it would be better for you to rest properly at T Hot Springs."

"It’s only natural you want to return home quickly—but look at me! Though I’ve come all this way, I can’t go back to Japan either. After seeing you off at F Pier, I’ll have to turn right back the way we came."

K understood these unspoken sentiments layered within S’s words.

“That’s true.
“I’ve caused you a great deal of trouble, haven’t I?”
“After all, in the north we went from Harbin to Paintara in Mongolia, turned back, and in Korea you even took me all the way to Mount Kumgang.”
“How about it?
“You too—how about crossing over…?”

“Shall I go for a bit? A week would suffice.” He seemed to recall his wife left back in his homeland—if only that were possible! S made a face that seemed to say “If only that were possible!” before continuing, “I’ll take proper leave openly once autumn comes. After all, I’ve been away from the company for quite some time… I’ve already got to design those summer beach posters now. But thanks to you, I was glad to see both Mount Kumgang and Gyeongju. Because both were places I kept wanting to visit but couldn’t…”

“I truly caused you such trouble.”
“Thanks to you, I can’t possibly fathom how smoothly we were able to journey about.”

“Not at all.”

S said this but laughed as he added, “But it was a rigid journey, wasn’t it? No matter who asks—there’s nothing to be ashamed of. We didn’t even glance at women.”

“…………”

“It was unexpected for you.”

“What should I say? Should I say ‘That’s too bad’?”

“Mr.O who came before us was quite enthusiastic, wasn’t he? Even he had his troubles—”

“So you’re saying even I would be troubled?”

K deliberately laughed loudly.

The automobile drove on continuously.
The road was smooth.
The mountains spreading out on both sides finally came to an end, and beyond them, a field holding the sea gradually unfolded.
Inside the bus were about three rural performers being taken by customers from W Town to F Town to see a play; they laughed loudly, playfully slapped customers' knees, and carried on boisterously.
As automobiles passed each other from both directions, the women got off, had customers buy soda, then distributed the remaining one or two bottles to the driver and conductor.

II

T Hot Springs did not appear to K’s eyes as particularly impressive. A hot spring resort that sat isolated amidst rice fields. There were no murmuring streams nor views of sea or mountains. When entering from the main road, one found a tram station connected to F Town, beyond which clustered two-story houses amidst the bustle—such was this hot spring resort. To put it another way, a lonely hot spring resort. “Hah, so this is what they call the famous T Hot Springs? After all, they say it’s one of Korea’s foremost hot spring resorts—I thought it would be livelier, a place with proper hot spring ambiance. So this is what it’s like!”

After the automobile was driven up to H Hall’s entrance, they climbed the large staircase and were shown to an eight-tatami room at the far end of the second floor. It was then, as K opened the rear glass door and gazed out at the surroundings, that he made this remark.

“That’s true.”
“It’s unexpectedly ordinary…”
“Perhaps U Inn would have been better than this place.”
“Isn’t it somewhat vulgar?”
“And Korean families are coming here too, aren’t they?”
S also spoke these words with apparent disappointment.

After a while, they sat down on the zabuton cushions the maid had brought.

“Well, there’s no helping it, I suppose.”
“We can’t very well complain about the place itself, after all.”
“It’s somewhat lackluster for spending our farewell night of this journey, but well, we’ll just have to endure it!”

“There’s no helping it, I suppose.”

K said this, but added, “And this is where the Mantetsu bigwigs frequently come?”

“They do come here quite often.”
“Families stopping over on their way back home often stay here overnight…”
“This place probably wasn’t to your liking.”
“If we had gone with U Inn instead—”

“Well, it’s fine—”

And so they changed into yukata and went out together toward the bathhouse.
K lingered a step behind at that moment, thinking to handle the business he needed to take care of here—the business he had to handle without S knowing—but reconsidering that there would likely be a better opportunity later if not now, he simply followed S down the staircase.
The bathhouse stood separate from the main building, requiring them to put on square garden clogs and follow stepping stones to reach it. At the entrance’s three-tatami space sat a large mirror where a woman who appeared Korean—her skin so pale it verged on bluish-white—applied makeup with intense focus, an image they both took in.
K saw that the face of the woman reflected in the mirror was strikingly beautiful.

Immediately, that woman surfaced in K's chest, but he forcefully suppressed it and, remaining as he was, stripped naked and quietly entered the bath.
Contrary to the hot spring resort's plain appearance, the water was abundant and crystalline clear; as he immersed himself, it sloshed and overflowed all around.

“Isn’t she lovely?”
“You?”

S jerked his chin toward the other side.

“That’s true.”

“Do Koreans also have such things? Isn’t she extraordinary?”

“Her figure was nice, wasn’t it? And also—”

“That’s true…”

S said this, then laughed, “We’re acting a bit strange, aren’t we?”

“Strange, isn’t it?”

K also laughed.

Indeed, they recounted how they had traveled fifty long days—a womanless journey through relentless Mongolian winds and crimson-hued mountain ranges; how whenever they found dwellings, there were only dirt-walled rooms with filthy kangs; how even when they occasionally lay on hotel beds, those beds turned out to be large ones meant for two people—laughing while sighing, sighing while yearning through it all.
(Well, just tonight remains.)
From tomorrow I'll be alone.
I'll become someone who can manage anything alone.
(After all, traveling alone isn't bad.) While entertaining such thoughts himself, S recalled the woman near Andong who had worn an obi with an expansive peony design.

Whenever they went in or out, the water surged and overflowed with a loud splash.

III

“You have telegram forms, don’t you?”

K approached S, who was organizing the large suitcase, and said.

“Huh—”

“Could you give me two or three sheets?”

“……”
S took what was there and handed it over.

“I want to send a thank-you telegram to Mr. T at headquarters.”

Speaking in this half-apologetic manner—as if making excuses though no suspicion existed—K went directly to the rosewood-like desk in the corner of the tatami room where inkstone boxes and stationery cases were kept, and sat down.

K first wrote the telegram addressed to Mr. T.
He wrote: “THANK YOU FOR YOUR VARIOUS KIND ASSISTANCES.”
Then he placed it beside him.
He glanced back over his shoulder.
S was still occupied with something before the large suitcase.

K picked up another telegram form.

He felt his heart leap.

He wrote.

“ASUGO GO 8 AM FLIGHT DEPARTING WILL WAIT”

Then, he wrote down the name and address of the father of the woman he had long yearned for during their journey, placed it beneath the telegram addressed to Mr. T at headquarters, and clapped his hands to summon the maid who happened to be approaching from across the way.
The maid came immediately.
K hurriedly requested that it be sent and handed it over.

He would stay here tonight and cross over on tomorrow evening’s ferry. He would arrive there by the morning of the day after tomorrow. He would wait at Gyosō. It was fine. That would make her understand. Since proper arrangements had been made from Dalian—since she had been to and knew the Gyosō inn—since she would depart immediately upon the telegram’s arrival. Thinking this, K felt relieved. Now he could meet her—the day after tomorrow, he would finally meet the woman he had long yearned for! Even so—just how long had K waited for this moment to send the telegram? When that time came? How delighted he must have thought he would be? He had repeated it everywhere he went. At times in the desert where Mongolian winds blew violently. At other times in endless trains that stretched beyond measure. In marble bathtubs at hot spring resorts where water brimmed over. In large hotel beds meant for two. No—it would be more accurate to say there had never been a time when he did not think of it—whether night or day, morning or evening, on trains or in hotel rooms. No—for that very purpose, to avoid shattering love’s intensity, he had journeyed all this way without touching any woman—not even those who could be had with ease. Indeed, in F Town—where many had pressed such recommendations—he had been forced to raise the matter himself: that since he already kept such company, since she literally accompanied him, they needn’t concern themselves—this was how he had refused them all along. K sent the telegram and stood up with relief.

He immediately went to S’s side and,

“Shall we walk around town a bit?”

“That’s true…”

“Do you have some business to attend to?”

“Well, it’s not like there’s any particular business, though…”
“Let me just finish tidying up here a bit more...”
“I’ll be done soon.”

However, K found himself unable to remain still, overwhelmed by a joy-like emotion he couldn’t contain.

“Then I’ll head out ahead of you.”
“Please—I’ll come right after you.”

And so K quietly passed through the long corridor, noticing the faint sway of phoenix tree leaves as he headed toward the descending stairs. There, in the room to his right, he caught sight of the Korean beauty from earlier—her hair tightly pulled back to starkly reveal her forehead—engaged in what appeared to be an intimate conversation with a mother-like woman.
K brushed past its vicinity and went downstairs.

When he exited H Hall, the street stretched on continuously.
Unlike when he had entered earlier—so this was the kind of town that existed here after all!
In this way, it somewhat resembled a proper hot spring resort, he thought.
Suddenly, at that moment, a single barbershop caught his eye.
The blue-painted facade and the red-and-white candy-striped pole caught his eye.
He noticed that no one was sitting in the chairs.
K entered.

“Please come in.”

A middle-aged man who appeared to be the proprietor came out and promptly guided him to the chair.

In the large mirror, a bearded face was reflected.
Reflected was a somewhat travel-weathered face—sun-darkened, rock-hardened, with features that made one wonder if their owner might be thinking about women or such things.

Mirrors were a mysterious thing. They were also ironic things. They refused to settle for mere subjectivity—unfailingly transforming it into objectivity to be seen. They wouldn’t rest until they’d rendered everything into observable objects. Thinking this, he found it somewhat comical and laughed inwardly. As the scissors snipped away, the soft rustle of his long hair falling felt pleasant.

The middle-aged man was indeed the proprietor, apparently from Hamada in Iwami, and it had been ten years since he came here.
“That’s right. From W Town to F Town, there are many people from Shimane Prefecture.”
“After all, it’s close.”
“Even as the crow flies, it’s seven or eight ri away.”
“Moreover, these places are no different at all from the mainland.”
“The population isn’t so bad either.”
“But there’s nothing particularly good about it either…”
The man said this and laughed.

It was about forty minutes later that he emerged from there, freshly groomed.
K walked at a leisurely pace through the small town lined on both sides with shops displaying cosmetics, small eateries, fishmongers, and houses bearing signs advertising beef and poultry.
Still, what had become of S? Had he come right after that, been dismayed to find him nowhere, and made a round through the town before heading back?
Or perhaps he still hadn’t finished his tasks and remained in his room as he was? Or had he gone all the way over there?
It didn’t matter either way—at any rate, he would walk around town a bit.
He would walk around in a carefree mood.
As K walked along thinking these thoughts, he could see S approaching from far away—from the very edge of town beyond the distant reaches—walking toward him as a small figure.

Even after noticing K there, without making any particular effort to hurry over, S approached calmly with a smile.

“What did you do?”

“Well, this—”

K showed his shaved head.

“Ah, I see.”
“I didn’t notice that.”
“That barbershop over there, right?”
“That can’t be right.”
“I wondered what had happened and searched all over the place.”
“You must have gone out without a doubt—so why are you here?”
“Thinking how strange things can be, I went all the way over there...”

"That was unfortunate."

"You've made yourself presentable, haven't you?"
S laughed while scrutinizing K. "A Manchurian beard hardly makes a suitable souvenir for the mainland, does it?"

"That's not really the reason though."

"When you reach the mainland, there'll be far better things awaiting you—"

"You're really laying into me with the teasing!"

K replied with forced laughter.

Finding nothing of interest further ahead, they turned back and ambled aimlessly. They passed girls with hair styled in seven-three parts and a woman who seemed to be a local geisha conversing with a man, but exchanged no remarks about them, simply retracing their steps to the entrance of their inn.

Exactly at that moment, the inn clerk—holding what appeared to be a telegram form—gave a light greeting and passed by.

(He’s going to send it now—)

Having thought this, K was startled.

Then the two of them went around to the back of the inn and wandered about the plaza that was partially landscaped as a garden. Roses blooming in a red so vivid it could wake the eye were scattered here and there.

As they turned their steps,

“The mainland must already be soaked through with May rains.”

“I suppose so?”

“The rainy season is approaching here as well, you see.”

“But even with May rains in Manchuria, they wouldn’t keep falling day after day like that, would they?”

“That’s true…”
“It only rains for two or three days at most, I suppose.”

The sky had begun clouding since afternoon; gazing up at its dull expanse—half-submerged in mouse-gray clouds where low nearby mountain ranges seemed to rise upward—they quietly made their way back toward the inn.

IV

They spent that night and the following day there, and as dusk fell, S and K set out by automobile toward the port.

As S had predicted, the rainy season had apparently arrived. That day brought heavy rain from morning, and though there was concern that the sea might grow rough, fortunately, around four o'clock, the rain began to let up, and the weather took a turn suggesting their worries had been for nothing.

When they left T Hot Springs, the surroundings had already grown dim.
Although taking the train would have been acceptable, as it was the final leg of their long journey and they were carrying large suitcases, they decided to call for an automobile there.
Seen off by the innkeeper and maids, the automobile sped straight along F Highway.

“So your train leaves later, then?”

“That’s right—”

“What time exactly?”

“The direct train leaves at 10:20 exactly.
“The ferry departs there at eight-thirty, but since it’ll be nine by then, I’ll still have to wander around that area for about an hour after seeing you off.”

“That must be unbearable.”

“No reason for that.
“I’m used to it…”

“But truly—I’ve been so indebted to you.
“I never imagined I’d be looked after to this extent—”

“I feel the same way. Thanks to you, I was able to travel together and even visit Mount Kumgang—a place I’d yearned to see for years—”

“But I feel bad making you come all this way.”
“Because you’ve come from corner to corner.”

“Nah, I’m used to it.”

Though he spoke these words, when S thought of himself—in contrast to K returning across the sea to the bright, bustling mainland—having to board that long, tedious train back to distant Dalian, he felt desolate. He felt as if his heart were growing darkly weighed down.

The automobile sped recklessly past lights that appeared now to the right, now to the left.
The wind still seemed to be blowing, and now and then large raindrops striking the front glass glinted in the acetylene gas light.
Though this wasn't something he could ignore, K's heart was filled with even greater joy at the prospect of meeting her tomorrow.
Even if the sea grew somewhat rough, that hardly constituted a problem worth considering.

K took out the watch wrapped in his sash and examined it in the faint glow of acetylene gas.
It was still just a little past seven.
But with just that，his imagination flew far away.
*She must have already left home.
Carrying that basket，putting that travel cosmetic case inside it，being seen off by her father，she must have left home by automobile.
Right about now she must be crossing that bridge over the river!* As he thought this，Tokyo’s vibrant nightlife came into clear view—red and blue advertisement lights spinning round and round，beer-can-shaped forms appearing and vanishing on their own in the sky.
The bustle of Tokyo Station also appeared vividly before his eyes alongside that.

(The heart truly is a strange thing—) K thought.

The rough sea's roar could be heard to their left—had it been daytime, one might have seen white waves breaking against the rocks—but before long, numerous distant lights appeared and grew steadily nearer as they watched.
F Port Town now lay before them.

"We're here..."

"How quickly it's passed..."

By the time they exchanged these words, the automobile had already passed through F Town's Korean district, overtaken several dimly moving trams with their round lamps, and was drawing near the large station.
The moment of parting had finally come!
This sensation flooded through both their hearts.

From the station to the pier, countless electric lights blazed with such brilliance they could have deceived daylight itself, while between them hurried crowds came and went. Korean laborers carried large loads on their backs, shuffling along as they went. The clamorous sound of cargo carts being hauled reverberated through the area. At the pier, the ferry's monstrous hull already lay perfectly alongside, while intermittently the steam whistle blared deafeningly through the air, startling hearts without respite.

V

“Apparently the sea was quite rough during the daytime.”
“Because of that, it’s apparently been delayed by about an hour.”
S said while handing over the ferry ticket he had purchased to K.

“Then it’ll be rough, huh?”

Even K was startled.

“No—apparently it’s not that bad.”
“It’s apparently calmed down considerably compared to earlier...”
“Nah, there haven’t been any dangerous incidents lately.”
“No matter how rough it gets, it’s safe.”
“If this ferry were to start capsizing bit by bit like that—now that would be a real problem.”
“Nah, there probably won’t be any major issues.”

“Is that so?”
“That’s good then, but…”
“They say there might be some waves near the shore, but apparently the open sea is probably calm.”

“Well—thank you very much. The suitcases have already been loaded onto the ship, haven’t they?”

“I had them loaded earlier. There—look by the railing at the first- and second-class boarding entrance…”

“Thank you… I truly received so much help from you. It’s truly inexcusable to have you see me off all this way—”

“No—”

S wore his helmet cap and Russian leather gaiters as he always did during their journey, leaning on his thick walking stick while gazing at K with unmistakable loneliness. The pier teemed with passengers—especially at the third-class boarding gate where people jostled in a crush, small packages in hand or children in tow, all bathed in bluish-white light so intense it hurt the eyes. Here and there policemen stood guard against any disturbance, their presence stark against the chaos.

“First-class won’t be crowded at all—take your time and you’ll be fine!” S had said. But when both third-class and first-/second-class gates opened and passengers surged forward like a tide, K announced, “Well then—thank you for everything.”

“When you reach Tokyo, please visit me!”

Repeating this farewell while doffing his hat repeatedly, he boarded the ship’s deck with the crowd.

After inspecting his assigned cabin and directing where to have the large suitcase carried, when he returned once more to the boarding entrance on deck, K did not fail to notice S still standing there looking forlornly after him. "Is there anything else...? That’s enough..." Even when he raised his voice in farewell like this, S merely tipped his hat slightly and remained standing rigidly in place. An indescribable feeling—a parting emotion that was neither sorrow nor melancholy—had now welled up and flooded the hearts of these two who had just spent fifty days walking everywhere together. Even S, after all, could not bring himself to leave that spot until the ship departed.

At the same moment the bell rang and the engine's sound began reverberating around them, the ship started moving slowly and quietly, gradually widening the distance between itself and the rocky wall. And so, between the deck and pier, a scene of sorrowful farewells was etched—those waving hats, those fluttering handkerchiefs, those shouting wishes of safety—their voices surging all at once throughout the area. Those who must go, must go. Those who must return, must return. S too was frantically waving his stick and helmet cap, but when the ship moved halfway diagonally away from the rocky wall, he had already started walking off toward the other side along with the dispersing crowd. That large white helmet cap completely vanished from sight within it.

K felt unbearably lonely, but in the next instant, his eyes caught the twinkling lights of F Port beautifully reflected on the sea from the upland districts to the downtown areas. He was quickly able to forget his feelings of parting. He let out a sigh of relief. He repeated to himself that he had finally become someone who could free himself from all others and direct his entire being toward her.

The inside of the ship was clean and bright.
He called out to a Western-style bellboy in a white uniform passing by the gaudy cushions, lamps with blue and red shades, chairs, and tables, requesting a bottle of beer. When he had it poured into a cup and gulped down the entire glass while gazing at the liquid’s beautiful twinkling reflection in the light, he felt as though he were now placed squarely amid life’s pleasures—an irrepressible surge of indescribable exhilaration welling up within him.
He took out his watch again and looked at it.
(She’s already boarded…)
She’s definitely boarded.
(It’s 9:10 now—she must be passing along the Sagami coast—) As he thought this, one part of his heart remained with the ship while the other journeyed with the train. The image of these two drawing closer moment by moment from opposite directions now unfolded vividly before him like a picture scroll.
K began thinking in detail about how to handle the newspaper reporters who would gather when he arrived this time.

About an hour later, the ship seemed to have moved far offshore, and the sound of waves crashing against the hull—crash, crash, crash—could be heard so vividly it felt within reach. The ship's rocking also suddenly grew stronger and more violent. The passengers too seemed to have all retreated to their rooms, and only one or two people remained out and about. There, one of Dalian’s prominent gentlemen who had been keeping him company remarked, “We’re in for a bit of tossing tonight!” Having said this, he hurriedly stood up and entered his own room. K remained there for over thirty minutes more, but as the ship’s rocking only grew increasingly violent, he finally stood up and went to his cabin, lying down on the lower bed.