Pathway to Japanese Literature

While trying to check his fishing gear, Shinichi entered the storage shed and discovered a paper-wrapped object inside an empty can as he rummaged around. "What could this be?" Tilting his head, he opened the dust-stained paper to find about six beyblades inside. Shinichi gazed intently at them as if he had found something nostalgic. That made sense. Until around spring of the year before last, Beyblades had been all the rage, and they would take them to the Red Soil Field. Because exchanging Beyblades had been deemed improper, they were told to stop by both their fathers and teachers until everyone ended up quitting. But he remembered they had kept just these without discarding them, wrapping them in paper and storing them away as mementos.

“Beyblades are still fun after all!” The weather was fine, and the voices of children playing could be heard, so Shinichi could no longer stay still at home. After slipping the beyblades into his pocket, he set off toward the Red Soil Field.

At the Red Soil Field, Takeo, Zenkichi, Yuji and the others were playing. Shinichi took a Beyblade out from his pocket and spun it on the ground. When Zenkichi noticed this, he came running from afar.

“Shin-chan, what are you doing?” he shouted. “It’s nothing. I was just spinning it,” said Shinichi as he picked up the Beyblade and put it back into the paper.

“You’ve got Beyblades?” “Yeah, that’s right.”

“How many do you have?” “Only six.” Zenkichi looked at Shinichi with a face that seemed to ask where all those he’d once had had gone—without actually saying it.

“What happened to all the ones you had?” “I threw them all into the river.”

“What a waste you made.” “But my dad told me to throw them away.” Zenkichi was remembering that he too had been in a similar predicament.

“And you?” asked Shinichi this time. “I have ten now.” “I threw the rest into the trash can.”

When Zenkichi answered like this, Shinichi widened his eyes, “If you’d given them to the scrap dealer now, that would’ve been better—throwing them into the trash can like that… What a waste!” he said.

“Maybe I should bring the ten I had stashed away too,” said Zenkichi.

“Oh, go get them.”

At that moment, from over there, Yuji and Takeo— “What are you doing?” they shouted in chorus as they came running over. “Beyblades.” “I’ve got some too.” “How many?” “I have about fifteen,” said Takeo. “Wow, that’s a lot!” they all marveled. “Yū-chan, don’t you have any?” “I have about ten,” answered Yuji.

“Oh, so you all have them too.” “Then why don’t we bring them here and have a spinning match?” said Zenkichi. “Let’s do it!” “If we just play without betting, it should be okay.” “As long as we don’t bet anything when we win or take them,” said Yuji.

“To be honest, that way isn’t any fun,” said Takeo. “No good. If we’re found out, we’ll get scolded.”

“Come on, everyone—hurry home and bring them,” said Shinichi.

“All right!” The children shouted energetically, then rushed out from the Red Soil Field and vanished. Rush ahead and charge in— How fragile—the enemy’s fortress! Horse, neigh—the victory cry! Shinichi spun his beyblade while singing, practicing hand movements he hadn’t tried in a while.

Then, at that moment, something glinted brightly across his face. He brushed a hand over his cheek, wondering if a dragonfly had grazed him. As he watched the beyblade spin, the light flashed again.

“What was that?” Shinichi lifted his head and looked around the field.

At first, he thought there was no one there, but over on the piled lumber, girls were playing. Upon closer inspection, they seemed to be Kaneko-san and Mitsuko-chan. And what had glinted was someone—using the mirror attached to a compact—reflecting the sunlight to play a prank on him.

As Shinichi gazed fixedly at them, the two girls stifled giggles. “I know,” Shinichi said as he ran toward them.

“We weren’t doing anything—just playing house!” said Miss Kaneko. “You did it with the compact mirror, didn’t you?”

“Heehee.” “Shin-chan, are you there?” It was Zenkichi who came running up first. Following Takeo, Yuji came running up, gripping a beyblade in his hand. “Ah, there’s no straw mat.” “If someone brings a stand and straw mat, that’d be good.” “We don’t need a stand, but without a straw mat, we can’t do it.”

Beyblades do not spin well on bare soil. Yuji was putting strength into his foot and stomping on the red soil—thud, thud. He was trying to harden it so they could spin their beyblades there. “On bare soil, it’s no good. Doesn’t anyone have a straw mat at home?” said Shinichi. Then, from over there, another boy came running up.

Koyama came.

Koyama was Miss Kaneko’s older brother.

“Are you going to play beyblades?” asked Koyama. “We’re stuck because there’s no straw mat.” “Won’t someone go look for a straw mat?” said Yuji.

“I’ll go home and bring one for you,” said Miss Kaneko.

“Don’t be stupid—there’s no straw mat at home!” Koyama glared at Miss Kaneko.

二

It was about ten days ago.

Under the refreshing new greenery of the shii tree, Miss Kaneko stood watching a tatami craftsman at work. The living room tatami mat that had once been stained with spilled red ink—despite her father’s scolding and her immediate scrubbing with an ink eraser—had now been replaced with a new surface fragrant with the scent of fresh green grass.

From now on, she would no longer have to see that stained tatami mat every day. As she watched, thinking such thoughts, the blade of the trimming knife slid in fascinatingly well. The straw mat began to split smoothly. After that, a thick needle smoothly sewed through, threading sturdy string. When he reached half a tatami mat’s worth, only half of the straw mat remained. Miss Kaneko ran into the house,

“Mom, what should we do with the leftover half of the new straw mat?” she asked.

“If we keep it stored away, there may come a time when we need it.” “Hey Mom, give it to me.”

“What do you need it for?” “I lay it out when we play house.” “Then you’d want the bigger one.” “I don’t want the old one—I want the new!”

“You may have it.”

Miss Kaneko happily received half of the straw mat and stored it away in the shed. Seeing Zen-chan, Yuji-chan, Shin-chan and the others struggling because they had no straw mat to play Beyblade with, she remembered the one she had stored away. So she offered to lend it to them.

“Idiot.” Scolded by her brother，Miss Kaneko’s face turned red. But since she was lending something of her own，there was no reason for her to be scolded， “It’s in the shed，” said Miss Kaneko.

“That’s mine,” Koyama glared at his sister. “No, that’s mine.” “I got it from Mom for doing handicrafts.” The friends were watching the two of them, but

“Koyama, please lend it to us,” said Shinichi. But Koyama remained silent. “Hey, Tatsuo-kun, it’s fine, right?” said Zenkichi.

“I don’t have a Beyblade, so it’s no fun,” Koyama replied.

“If you lend us the straw mat, I’ll give you one,” said Yuji. Koyama suddenly took on a delighted expression.

“Really?” said Koyama as he started running. “Who’d lie about something like that?” Takeo and Yuji exchanged glances and smiled. Koyama returned, carrying the straw mat. At this moment, Miss Kaneko—

“Miss Mitsuko, let’s go over there and collect bead berries,” she said. In the grass thicket, dayflowers bloomed with purple blossoms. The red berries of mock strawberries had ripened. Over there, the boys were engrossed in Beyblade.

“The new straw mat feels great.” “Yuu-chan’s edge is too strong! Tatsuo-chan’s only Beyblade went flying,” Zen-chan laughed. Koyama slumped dejected. It was because Yuji-chan had given him one only to take it back again. “I’ll give you one,” Takeo said this time, handing a Beyblade to Koyama. “We said no take-backs, right?”

“If we’re just pretending, it’s no fun.” “If this gets found out, we’ll get scolded by Teacher.”

“Ah, let’s all go home together at the very end.” While everyone was saying such things, “I’m going home now,” said Koyama. “Leaving already? “Stay and play some more!”

“If I don’t study, I’ll get scolded by Mom.” Koyama began taking back the straw mat laid out on the ground. “Tatsuo-chan, just lend us the straw mat. When we’re done, I’ll bring it back,” said Takeo. “If it gets dirty, it’ll cause trouble during handicraft time.” “You shouldn’t say such stingy things.” “It’s true! Without the straw mat, we can’t play Beyblade!” shouted Yuji.

When told this, Koyama withdrew his hand from the straw mat.

“Tatsuo-chan, I’ll give you a beyblade. This one I’m really giving to you,” said Zenkichi, handing over the top in an attempt to cheer up Koyama. “Come on, let’s all play. Tatsuo-chan, staying a bit longer should be fine, right?” As he spoke, Shinichi let out a buzzing whirr and threw his beyblade onto the straw mat. The top spun vigorously. Then Zenkichi, Yuji, and Takeo all flung their beyblades in together.

The beyblades collided against each other, scattering sparks with sharp cracks. Slightly belatedly, Tatsuo threw in the beyblade he had received. Tatsuo’s beyblade spun with tremendous force, but in the end, Takeo’s beyblades knocked every last one of them away and claimed supremacy. Once again, Koyama was left without a single beyblade. Seeing Koyama’s dejected appearance, Shinichi— “I’ll give Tatsuo-chan one,” he said, handing over a flat, gleaming beyblade.

“Whoa, you’re giving that beyblade?” said Yuji, his eyes widening.

“I gave it to him,” Shinichi answered. When he heard this—for some reason— “I don’t want it,” said Tatsuo, returning the beyblade to Shinichi’s hand.

“Why?” Shinichi peered quizzically into Koyama’s face.

“I’m going home now.” “I’m really giving this to you.” “I’m going home now.” Koyama, having said this, once again began to take back the straw mat.

At this moment, Zenkichi, who had been intently watching what Koyama was doing, “Stingy meanie!” he said, stomping on Koyama’s straw mat with the shoes he was wearing. “What are you doing?” said Koyama, trying to push Zenkichi down. Zenkichi, who had become lanky, “What?!” he said, lunging at Koyama.

Three “Hey, stop fighting!” said Shinichi. “It’s because you’re being mean that fights break out,” said Zenkichi. Everyone looked at Koyama’s face. “It’s my straw mat—I bought it myself!” said Koyama, his face turning red. “In return, we gave you a beyblade,” said Zenkichi. “I don’t want this thing,” said Koyama, throwing away the beyblade he had been holding in one hand.

“You don’t need to suddenly bring up studying,” said Takeo. “Talking about studying is something a tattletale would say.” “I don’t need your meddling. Unlike someone, I’m not taking any randoseru or whatever.” “What was that?” Takeo, having been humiliated, tore Koyama’s straw mat with a ripping sound. “Oh ho! How generous!” said Yuchan, clapping his hands.

Koyama started heading back, sobbing softly. “Listen up—you better remember this,” said Koyama, turning back toward them through tears. “Sure thing, we aren’t gonna play with you anyway,” answered Zen-chan. “How about I throw a rock at you?” said Take-chan, picking up a stone from the ground. “Knock it off,” said Shin-chan, stepping in. When she learned her brother had been bullied, Miss Kaneko came running.

“Why are you all bullying my brother?” “Because he’s got a big mouth.”

“Please return the straw mat you lent us.” “Take that one over there and leave.”

“Give me back one that isn’t torn like this.” “When I go to school tomorrow, I’ll tell the teacher.” “Go ahead and tell!” Take-chan said angrily, moving to strike, and Miss Kaneko ran away.

“Fighting’s so boring,” said Zen-chan, taking a ball from his pocket and throwing it skyward. “Shall we play ball?”

While they were saying such things，a man wearing a hunting cap with gaiters around his legs and leaning on a cane came walking across the red soil field toward where everyone was. “Oh! Isn’t that the Kamishibai Man who came before?” “That’s right—it’s the man!”

“Kamishibai Man!” everyone shouted.

“Hey there!” the kamishibai man laughed. “What’s up, Mister? You haven’t come around in a while.” “Ah, I’ve changed my business, and lately I’ve been going around schools telling stories,” the kamishibai man said, sitting down on a grassy spot. “Do you have any interesting stories?” asked the kamishibai man, addressing everyone.

“What kind of stories do you mean by ‘interesting’?” said Shin-chan. “It can be anything—stories you’ve seen.” “Mister, want me to do one?” said Zen-chan. The friends all looked at Zen-chan’s face. “Yesterday, I went to the pool.” “And while I was swimming, some kid brought along a little brother and sister, you know.” “Then he told them to hold onto a float and swim properly.” “But both the little brother and sister seemed to be entering the water for the first time and were too scared to get in.”

“Having no choice, he went into the pool alone and swam, you know. Then those little siblings followed along the edge while munching rice crackers, circling around wherever he swam. I couldn’t help laughing my head off—they were running after him still eating those crackers, I tell you!”

“Ha, ha, ha,” laughed the kamishibai man. The kamishibai man laughed amusedly, so everyone laughed along.

“I see,” said the kamishibai man. “Alright now—my turn!” said the kamishibai man. “I went up north recently on a trip—country kids there all work hard for wartime emergencies these days! When school lets out—some haul firewood from mountains—others help hoe fields—still others carry baskets full of mulberry leaves on their heads or shoulders back home! Then you’ve got ones reading books while babysitting too! Not like town kids always fooling around!”

“That’s harsh, Mister. There are some of us who help our parents too, you know.” “I see. That’s admirable.”

“Don’t you have any more interesting stories?” “Then I went all the way to Karafuto.”

“Karafuto? You went all the way to such a cold place,” said the children, recalling that slender and elongated island jutting out at the northern tip, encircled by the blue sea.

“In tundra regions, there are places like marshlands where only moss grows.” “Once fire breaks out there, it doesn’t go out easily.” “For years on end, phosphorescent flames would flare up from below.”

Also, in Karafuto, there are large forests and woods untouched by human hands. And once those catch fire, that’s when the real trouble begins. “Because there’s no telling how far it’ll spread, you see.” In such cases, what they do is clear away the forest several dozen meters ahead of where the fire is spreading and create an open space. And then, they set fire to one end of the burning forest. Then, the fire coming from over there and the fire spreading from here gradually draw closer and will meet somewhere. “What do you think happens then?” With a booming sound, a pillar of fire would rise into the sky. And then, that’s how the fire would go out. “Because the fires from both sides heat up the air, making the air in the middle disappear.”

“That’s a really interesting story.” “Mister, did you see that fire?” “No—it’s a story I heard,” said the kamishibai man. “What I saw was in a certain village—when horses were departing for war, they’d erected an impressive arch at the station, and elementary school students went to see them off, each waving flags in their hands. Everywhere’s tense under the wartime emergency.”

Four

At the edge of the field stood a small forest. Various trees grew thickly there, and when the wind blew through them, their leaves shimmered like rippling waves. A little past noon came the clack-clack of wooden clappers from that direction. The kamishibai man was summoning the children. In the field, those who had been throwing balls and chasing dragonflies began running toward the sound one by one until they had all gathered in the forest.

In the forest stood a small Inari shrine. Before the shrine’s torii gate stretched a wide road leading to the distant town. The kamishibai man had parked his bicycle by the torii and waited for everyone to gather. Hikaru-chan and Tomiko-san leaned against a stone fence. Shinichi and Yuji stood vacantly among the other children. The spot lay in cool shade, cicadas shrilling overhead. Soon began the kamishibai man’s story titled “Totsugekihei.”

“One day, a conscription notice arrived for Chuichi.” He threw down the work tools in his hands and immediately stood up. “Sister, I leave the rest to you.” “Father, how are you feeling today?”

After her brother was gone, though she was a frail woman, the sister worked diligently to care for their father. “You’ve looked after me well all these years.” “But now my time has come.” “It’s only a shame to go without hearing word of my son’s deeds while I still draw breath.” “Father, you mustn’t speak such dispirited words.” “No—what matters is you’ll be left alone when I’m gone.” “You too are a daughter of Japan.” “You must serve our nation through whatever strength you possess!”

“Father, I understand.” “Now has come the time when all the people of Japan—men and women, elderly and children—must unite and rise up without exception.” “Though I am a woman, I have always been prepared for that.” “Ah, now I can rest easy.”

This was the father's parting words.

Now shifting scenes—here was the battlefield. The enemy was formidably obstructing our army’s advance. Chuichi’s unit was facing the enemy across a creek.

At tomorrow’s dawn, the order was issued to destroy the enemy’s pillbox. The brave warriors who, led by Chuichi, had offered their lives to His Majesty the Emperor wrote their final letters to their hometowns and went to sleep.

In the middle of that night, when Private First Class Chuichi opened his eyes, his sister in the white uniform of the National Defense Women’s League was standing there. Oh! Why had she come to such a place? he wondered in shock. “I have come to inform you, Brother.” “What?! Father has passed away?” “What did he say... when you parted?”

“Yes,” replied the sister with tears welling up in her eyes, “Father said, ‘It’s a shame to leave this world without hearing of my son’s exploits.’”

Private First Class Chuichi jerked upright. At the same time, he awoke. “Father, forgive me. I will soon be by your side.”

When the kamishibai man had told the story up to this point, Zenkichi and Takeo came running, “Shin-chan, Mr. Yoshikawa’s here! Hurry up!” they said, trying to hide behind the shrine. Startled, Shinichi and Yuji chased after them. The kamishibai man must have wondered what had happened.

“What happened? What happened?” he asked. “The schoolteacher came.” “What? The teacher? There’s nothing wrong with it at all!” declared the kamishibai man boastfully. The schoolteacher, taking seven or eight upper-grade students, passed by to observe traffic control. When the teachers had left, Shinichi, Yuji, Zenkichi, and Takeo all emerged. “Everyone, what happened?” said the kamishibai man.

“We got caught playing beyblades in front of Imatori.” “Why did you come here instead of listening to the story? That’s why the teacher scares you,” the kamishibai man said with a laugh. “Koyama-kun told the teacher about us.” “That’s why he came over to check on us.”

“If we go to school tomorrow, we’ll get scolded,” Zenkichi said dejectedly. “Koyama-kun, you’re such a coward. You got back at us for what happened the other day,” said Shinichi. “He’s really such a coward.” “Mister, what happened next in this story?” asked another small child. “The rest of this story will continue tomorrow. That’s all for today.”

The children scattered, each going their own way.

“Mister, you’re friends with the kamishibai man who came here before, right?” said Shinichi. “Ah, friends indeed. We travel around performing kamishibai so everyone becomes good people and Japan grows ever stronger,” answered the kamishibai man. “So you’re not really a candy seller at all,” said Zenkichi, looking at the man’s face with a puzzled expression.

“I sell candy too, so I’m a real candy seller. After all, if it were just stories, no one would listen.” “I’d listen even if it’s just the story.” “Well then, maybe I’ll stop bringing candy starting tomorrow.” “And you won’t take money either?” “Look—see? Everyone prefers candy over the story.” “I want to listen to the story and get candy too.”

“I’d be fine with just the stories.”

“Who’s this ‘great’ person? Ha ha ha,” Zenkichi laughed.

V

The next day, on their way home from school, Zenkichi and Takeo were kept behind by Mr. Yoshikawa. “It’s definitely about the beyblades, Zen-chan,” said Takeo. “Ah, that’s obviously it.” “But why aren’t we allowed to play beyblade, I wonder,” Zenkichi said, looking up at the persimmon tree outside the window. Since autumn began, the sunlight seemed even stronger than in summer. One by one, they pierced through and glittered atop the leaves.

“Persimmons are growing, huh, Take-chan. These must be bitter.”

“They might be sweet.” “From here, can we reach that branch?”

“If you jump for it, you could reach it, but if you fall, you’d be in big trouble.”

The two of them kept thinking about all sorts of things while gazing at the persimmon tree from the second-floor window. They kept thinking about how they wanted to hurry home and play. Not only that, but when they imagined their mothers and older sisters worrying about them, remaining here like this was agonizing. “I wish Teacher would hurry up and come.” “He must’ve forgotten.” “Shall we go back, Take-chan?”

At that moment，the sound of footsteps approaching through the corridor was heard. The two of them suddenly began behaving properly. Mr.Yoshikawa sat down on the lectern chair， “Come over here，” Zenkichi and Takeo were both called to the front. “What were you doing after you got home yesterday，hmm?” Mr.Yoshikawa looked at them both.

Zenkichi raised his face. “We were throwing balls and playing Beyblade,” he answered frankly. “Didn’t I say you shouldn’t play Beyblade?” When Mr. Yoshikawa said this, Zenkichi fell silent and looked down.

“What do you think?” Mr.Yoshikawa inquired, this time addressing Takeo. “I don’t think it’s good,” answered Takeo.

“Why did you do something you knew was wrong?” Mr.Yoshikawa’s face gradually grew stern. “In the end, I thought if we just returned all the beyblades we’d won in the end, it would be okay,” said Zenkichi. Mr.Yoshikawa remained silent for a while, listening to what Zenkichi was saying, but “Do you think it’s acceptable to do something wrong and just return it later?” he said. “Mr.Yoshikawa, is spinning tops something bad?” Takeo asked quizzically this time, looking at the teacher’s face. Mr.Yoshikawa tilted his head slightly and did not respond immediately, but after a while,

“It’s not that spinning tops themselves are forbidden.” “It’s when you bet items on winning or losing that’s forbidden.” “With Beyblades, since after a match the winner takes the losing top as their own—turning it into an exchange of items—that’s why it’s forbidden.” “Mr.Yoshikawa, then does that mean it’s okay if we just spin tops and have matches without betting anything?” “If you don’t bet items, there’s no harm—everyone just sticks to one thing.” “I too loved spinning tops when I was a boy.”

“Mr.Yoshikawa，did you play Beyblade too?” The two children looked surprised. “No—in my childhood days，we never saw anything like Beyblades.” “They were either larger wooden tops or iron-clad ones.” “Against iron-clad tops，wooden ones simply couldn’t compete.” “And those top battles—they were quite lively.”

Mr.Yoshikawa, recalling his own childhood, told them how even back then they had simply competed without betting items like they do now—and yet everyone had been satisfied. “Wooden tops would often split clean in two when they met iron-clad ones.” “The splitting of them was also quite enjoyable.” “However, wooden tops made from camellia wood were so hard that not only did they rarely split, but they would also send sparks flying upon collision and sometimes even knock the iron-clad ones into ditches.”

“Mr. Yoshikawa, that’s fascinating.”

“It’s interesting, but you should quit with those Beyblades. These days, aren’t there plenty of fun games where everyone can enjoy themselves together and decide wins and losses?” Mr.Yoshikawa said. By this point, Mr.Yoshikawa’s face had returned to its usual gentle expression. “Mr.Yoshikawa, I understand now,” said Zenkichi. “Understood?” “I understand. But I think someone who tattles to the teacher is even more cowardly,” said Takeo.

“If you don’t do things worth being tattled about, that’s all that matters.” “Now you may leave.”

Mr.Yoshikawa stood up and promptly walked off toward the corridor. “When I told this story to the kamishibai man with the black glasses, Tatsuo said that telling on someone to the teacher because he couldn’t fight himself was just cowardly,” said Zenkichi.

“The kamishibai man said he knew the teacher well, didn’t he?” “Ah, he also said Japanese children shouldn’t think about things like winning or losing. “He said we must do what’s right.”

The two of them descended the stairs and exited through the school gate while talking. “Zen-chan, look at that dog.”

Looking where Takeo pointed, a white dog followed its owner while holding a ball in its mouth. At the gate of a house lay a brown dog sprawled on its belly, but when spotted, it suddenly sprang up and began to bark. The distance between the two dogs gradually narrowed. However, the dog holding the ball pretended not to notice and followed its owner without so much as a glance aside, while the brown dog looked ready to pounce at any moment.

Six

In the red soil field, no one was playing. The man with the brown dog took out a ball and threw it as far as he could into the distance. The ball rose into the blue sky and then fell back down. “Good,” the man said, and the dog dashed off. “Mister, what’s the dog’s name?” Takeo asked. “John.” “Though he’s not a purebred German Shepherd, you know,” the man answered.

“What a good dog, Mister,” Zenkichi said admiringly. John came back holding the ball in his mouth. “Training alone takes a lot of effort to make a good dog.” John tried to place the ball in front of his owner when— “Hey!” The man scolded and tried to strike John with the whip in his hand. John immediately noticed and, circling around the man’s feet from right to left, placed the ball. “Good boy,” said the man as he patted the dog’s head. Then, the man left the dog waiting there and hurried off alone in that direction. Before long, the man’s figure had vanished into the thick growth of the grassy thicket. John, who had been sitting still while watching that direction, began to whimper and pine for the man once his owner’s figure had vanished from sight—perhaps out of loneliness. Zenkichi and Takeo also found the loyal dog endearing.

The man reappeared from a different direction and returned. “Good,” he ordered, and John immediately began searching for his owner’s footprints to retrieve the ball. “Mister, did you hide the ball?” “I buried it in the ground, so he probably won’t find it right away,” the man said with a laugh. No matter how long they waited, John did not return. It couldn’t be found. Before long, John returned dejectedly, holding nothing in his mouth. When he saw this, the man made a scary face and glared at the dog. And then, he raised his hand and,

“No!” he shouted. John ran off in that direction again to search. “How pitiful. He can’t find it,” said Takeo, sympathizing with the dog.

At that moment, a boy arrived on a walk with the white dog from earlier. And he came to where everyone was.

“He’s a substitute for a Pointer, isn’t he?” said the kamishibai man as he patted the white dog’s head. The dog stayed quiet. The kamishibai man knew a lot about dog breeds. Furthermore, he doted on all dogs. The dogs also seemed to know well those who doted on them. John finally found the ball and came running back happily with it in his mouth. The kamishibai man waited delightedly for John to approach. When the dog circled around and placed the ball before him, he hugged it close and patted its head affectionately.

“He’s such a good boy,” said the boy upon seeing this.

“Down!” the kamishibai man said, and John lay flat on the ground. “Crawl forward!” John belly-crawled forward. Takeo, who had been watching this, turned to Zenkichi and, “When you go to war, you have to advance without letting the enemy spot you,” he whispered.

The white dog also stayed quiet and watched what John was doing. Then, the boy,

“Look here—can you do something like that too?” he said while pressing his cheek against the dog’s face. The kamishibai man watched and laughed. “Aren’t you teaching him anything?” “This dog can only fetch sticks when you throw them.” “So he’s a hunting dog then?” “That’s why he can’t help chasing chickens and cats whenever he sees them,” said the boy. Before long, he left with his dog toward that direction.

Once he had finished the brown dog’s routine training, the kamishibai man turned to Zenkichi and Takeo. “Goodbye,” he said, and taking John with him, headed back home. “Oh, we’re heading back late today.” “I’ll head back home, and Mom will definitely scold me,” Takeo worried.

“We can just say there was a review session.”

Zenkichi felt bad about telling a lie, but he had resolved to go through with it.

“I wonder if I should say I came to watch the dog training at the field,” said Zenkichi. “If you don’t say he was left behind, it’s the same either way, isn’t it?”

The days grew cooler. Standing in the field and silently gazing up at the sky, when one turned their eyes toward the direction of the cries, a small black flock of migratory birds flying in formation could be seen.

Woof, woof—a dog was barking. When they looked in that direction, it was John—the dog the kamishibai man had brought before. “John! John!” called Zenkichi. John came running. Beside Takeo, Shinichi was also there. “Where is this dog from?”

Shinichi asked.

“It’s a dog some man brought here once,” said Takeo, looking around to see if the man was anywhere nearby. What had happened? The man was nowhere to be seen.

“John, what’s wrong? All alone?” said Zenkichi, and John joyfully jumped up. “He must’ve gotten lost on the way.”

“Let’s go hide somewhere. Then, what will John do?” said Takeo.

Seven

“Oh! I’ve got a good idea.” “What kind of idea?” Takeo and Shinichi looked at Zenkichi’s face. “While John is searching for the ball, we’ll hide somewhere. Then what will John do, I wonder?” said Zenkichi. “What will he do? This should be interesting,” said Shinichi.

“He might go back home.” “No—he’ll definitely come looking for us…”

“Alright, let’s try it.”

Takeo showed John the ball, then ran off toward the grass thicket in the distance. Then, making sure not to be noticed, he hid himself in the grass.

Takeo, gasping for breath, returned and,

“John, go find the ball,” he immediately commanded. John ran off. “Let’s hide somewhere now. Where should we go?” Zenkichi, running ahead in the lead, shouted. “Let’s go to my house’s storage shed.”

The three ran across the field toward the direction opposite to where the dog had gone.

On the other side of the wide road lay the town. The closest house belonged to Zenkichi. They dealt in clay pipes, gravel, cement, and such materials. Inside the storage shed, these goods stood piled high. The three boys pressed together cramped in a corner, taking turns peering through a knothole at the field beyond. “What’s wrong? He isn’t coming.”

“Maybe he went back home?” Suddenly, Shinichi, who had been peering through the knothole— “He’s coming, he’s coming! John’s searching like a madman!”

“He’s not coming this way.” “Because he’s tracking our footprints.” “What about the ball?”

“He’s holding it in his mouth.” “He looks so pitiful. Should we come out?” said Zenkichi. However, before long, John came up to the cottage. Then, putting the ball down, he began to whimper sorrowfully.

“John!” At that moment, the three of them, vying to be first, burst out from the storage shed.

“Since there’s an address on your tag, I’ll take you home now,” said Shinichi, patting John’s head.

In the garden, the fruits of the ume-modoki had turned red, and beneath them stood a house with sasanquas in bloom. That was John’s home.

The three stood at the entrance, and John wagged his tail and began barking joyfully—Woof! Woof! The woman slid open the shoji door and stepped out. Seeing the dog and children there, she looked startled. When the three explained that they had brought John, who had gotten lost, “Oh my, oh my, thank you so much for that.” “Actually, since he went missing, we were worried and everyone had gone out to look for him.” “We always keep him tied up, but when I untied his chain this morning, he was gone,” the woman said gratefully.

Takeo tied John to the chain and then,

“Goodbye,” he said. The three turned toward John as if in unison while trying to exit the gate, whereupon John tried to follow, rattling his chain and barking. “Young master, please wait,” the woman said hurriedly, emerging from the back. Then, slipping into her geta, she brought a paper-wrapped package to where everyone was.

“This is just a small token of thanks. Please buy some candy or sweets and share them,” the woman said, trying to pass it into Shinichi’s hands.

“No, we don’t need such a thing,” said Shinichi, withdrawing his hands. “You mustn’t say such things. Here, take this,” the woman said, this time trying to pass it to Zenkichi. “If we buy sweets or something, we’ll get scolded,” said Zenkichi, also withdrawing his hands. “Then buy pencils and share them,” the woman insisted, forcing the money into Takeo’s hand. Takeo wondered what he should do, but thinking it would be rude to refuse the woman’s persistent offers, he accepted it and went outside.

“This is a problem. What should we do with this?” Takeo consulted with the two.

“Then let’s buy pencils and share them,” Shinichi answered. “Takeo, you hold onto it,” said Zenkichi, and the three returned to the field. The western sky was beginning to turn red.

“Ah, the Kamishibai Man is coming.”

The three ran off toward where the children were gathered. There were Koyama, Kaneko, Mitsuko, and Tomiko.

“Hey, the man with black glasses is going to China,” said Koyama, looking at the three. “Really?” “Is the man with black glasses going to China?” Takeo asked the kamishibai man. “It’s absolutely true. This time, I’m joining a propaganda unit and going to China,” answered the kamishibai man. The man with black glasses had once told a story on this field about his travels to Karafuto.

“Does ‘propaganda unit’ mean taking care of Chinese people?” asked Miss Tomiko.

“Ah, that’s right,” said the kamishibai man. “And I’ll tell fun stories to the children in China too. They’ll be so delighted.” “What kind of stories?” asked Tomiko. “Well, since those stories are about that man—they’re really about Japanese children,” he replied with a laugh. “I’ll make sure to tell your stories and say all Japanese children are honest, kind, and nothing but good kids.” “Hmm... Should we send that man a flag?”

“That’s right—let’s buy a flag with the money from John’s house.” “I’ll put in money too,” said Koyama. Across the Red Soil Field, the setting sun burned crimson.