Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Trying to check his fishing gear, Shinichi entered the storage shed and, while rummaging around here and there, found a paper-wrapped item inside an empty can. "What could this be?"

Tilting his head, he opened the dust-covered paper and found about six spinning tops inside. Shinichi gazed at them for a while, as if he'd suddenly discovered something nostalgic. That made sense. Until around spring of the year before last, spinning tops had been popular, and they would take these to the field. However, since exchanging spinning tops was considered improper, they had been told to stop by both his father and teacher until eventually everyone quit. But he recalled deciding to keep just these as a memento, wrapping them in paper and storing them away without discarding them.

"Spinning tops really are fun after all."

The weather was fine, the voices of children playing could be heard, and Shinichi could no longer stay still at home. After putting the spinning tops into his pocket, he headed out toward the red soil field.

In the field, Take-chan, Zen-chan, Yu-chan, and the others were playing.

Shinichi took out a spinning top from his pocket and spun it on the ground. When Zenkichi noticed this, he came running from afar. “Shin-chan, what’re you doing?” he shouted.

“It’s nothing—I was just spinning it,” said Shinichi as he picked up the top and put it back into the paper. “You have spinning tops?” “Yeah, that’s right.” “How many do you have?” “I’ve only got six.” Zenkichi gave Shinichi a look that practically demanded to know where they’d all gone, despite him having had so many before. “What happened to all the ones you had?” “I threw them all into the river.”

“What a waste!” “Because Father told me to throw them away.” Zenkichi recalled that he too had faced similar circumstances. “And you?” Shinichi asked this time. “I’ve got ten now. The rest I tossed in the trash, see?”

When Zenkichi answered like this, Shinichi widened his eyes, “If you gave them to the scrap dealer now, that’d be better, right? Throwing them into the trash like that—what a waste,” he said. “I’ve got ten hidden away too. Should I go get them?” said Zenkichi. “Ah, go get them, then.”

At that moment, Yuuji and Takeo came from over there,

“What are you doing?” they shouted in unison as they came running over. “Spinning tops.” “I’ve got some too.” “How many?” “I’ve got about fifteen,” said Takeo.

“Wow, you have a lot,” everyone marveled. “Yu-chan, don’t you have any?”

“I have about ten,” replied Yuuji. “Oh, so you all have them too.” “Then why don’t you bring yours here and we’ll spin them together?” said Zenkichi. “Let’s do it.” “If we just play without betting, it should be fine.” “As long as we’re hitting and taking without putting anything at stake,” said Yuuji.

“Honestly, it’s no fun that way,” said Takeo. “Don’t—we’ll get scolded if they find out.”

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

“All right!” With energetic shouts, the children dashed out from the red soil field at full speed and vanished. Charge in first and break through,

How fragile is the enemy’s formation! Let the horses neigh—the victory cry rings out! Shinichi kept spinning his tops while singing, practicing the hand movements he hadn’t used for some time. Then something glinted, brightly illuminating his face. He brushed his cheek, wondering if a dragonfly had flown by and grazed him. As he watched the spinning tops whirl, another flash came.

"What was that?" Shinichi raised his head and scanned the red soil field. At first he thought there was no one there, but over by the stacked lumber, a girl was playing. Upon closer inspection, it seemed to be Kaneko-san and Mitsuko-chan. The glint had come from someone using the mirror on a compact to reflect sunlight and play a trick on him. As Shinichi kept staring, the two girls stifled giggles.

“I know,” said Shinichi, running toward them.

“We didn’t do anything—we were just playing house,” said Miss Kaneko. “You did it with the compact’s mirror.” “Ohoho.” “Shin-chan, you’re here!” The first to come running was Zenkichi. Next came Yuuji clutching spinning tops in his hand toward Takeo.

“Ah, there’s no mat.”

“If someone brings a dai and a mat, that’d be good, right?” “We don’t need the dai, but without a mat, we can’t do it.” Spinning tops don’t spin well on soil. Yuuji was stomping on the red soil with heavy thuds, putting all his weight into his legs. He was hardening it so they could spin their tops there.

“On the soil, it’s no good—doesn’t anyone have a 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 with spinning tops?” asked Koyama. “We’re stuck without a mat.” “I wish someone would go look for a mat,” said Yuuji.

“I’ll go home and bring one for you,” said Miss Kaneko. “Idiot, we don’t have a mat at home!” Koyama glared at Miss Kaneko.

Two

It was about ten days prior.

Under a shii tree with refreshing new greenery, Miss Kaneko stood watching a mat craftsman at work. The tearoom mat—which she had once spilled red ink on, been scolded by Father for, and immediately wiped with an ink remover though the stain stubbornly remained—had now been replaced with a fresh surface smelling of blue-green rush grass.

From now on, she wouldn’t have to see that soiled mat every day. As she stood watching with these thoughts, the blade sank through effortlessly. The mat kept splitting smoothly along its length. A thick needle then darted through the cut edge, pulling sturdy thread in its wake. When trimmed to half-tatami size, only a section of matting remained. Miss Kaneko dashed inside, “Mom, what should we do with this leftover half of new matting?” she asked.

“If we put it away, it might come in handy.” “Mom, give it to me!” “What do you need it for?” “I lay it out when I play house, you see.” “In that case, you’d want the big one, wouldn’t you?” “I don’t want the old one—I want the new one.” “I can give it to you.” Miss Kaneko happily received half of the mat and stored it away in the shed. Now that she saw Zen-chan, Yu-chan, Shin-chan and the others were in trouble because they had no mat for their spinning tops, she remembered the mat 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, it’s mine.” “I got it from Mom for my handicrafts.”

The friends were watching the two of them, but

“Koyama, please lend it to us,” said Shinichi. However, Koyama remained silent.

“Hey, Tatsuo-kun, it’s fine right?” said Zenkichi. “I don’t have a spinning top myself—that’s why it’s no fun,” Koyama replied.

“If you lend us the mat, I’ll give you one,” said Yuuji. Koyama’s expression suddenly brightened with excitement.

“Really?” Koyama dashed off. “Who’d tell a lie?” Takeo and Yuuji exchanged glances and grinned.

Koyama returned carrying the mat.

At this moment, Miss Kaneko said, “Miss Mitsuko, let’s go over there and pick bead berries.” In the grass clumps, dayflowers bloomed with purple blossoms. The red snakeberries had ripened. Over there, the boys were engrossed in their spinning tops. “The mat’s new, so it feels nice.” “Yu-chan’s edge is so strong—it sent Tatsu-chan’s only bey flying!” Zen-chan laughed.

Koyama had become dejected. After all, though Yu-chan had given him one, it had been taken by Yu-chan again.

“I’ll give you one,” Takeo said, handing a top to Koyama this time. “Wasn’t there supposed to be no take-backs?” “If we’re just faking it like this, there’s no point.” “If they find out, the teacher will scold us.” “Ah, let’s all return it right at the end.”

While they were all talking like this, “I’m going home,” said Koyama.

“You’re leaving? Come on, stay and play some more.” “If I don’t study, Mom will scold me, you know.” Koyama started to take the spread-out mat. “Tatsu-chan, just lend it to us for now. I’ll bring it back once we’re done,” said Takeo. “If it gets dirty, it’ll be a problem during handicraft class, you know.” “You shouldn’t say such mean things.” “It’s true, I tell you. If there’s no mat, we can’t play bey, can we?” Yuuji burst out angrily.

When told this, Koyama withdrew his hand from the mat. “Tatsu-chan, I’ll give you a bey. This one’s really yours,” Zenkichi said, handing him the top in an attempt to cheer him up.

“Come on, let’s all play together. Tatsu-chan, it’s fine if you stay and play a bit longer, right?” As he said this, Shinichi let out a buzz and hurled his top onto the mat. The top spun energetically. Then Zenkichi, Yuuji, and Takeo all threw their tops in together. The spinning tops collided with one another, scattering sparks with a crackle. A bit belatedly, Tatsuo also threw in the top he had received. Tatsuo’s top had been spinning with tremendous force too, but in the end, Takeo’s top knocked every last one of them flying and claimed victory. Once again, Koyama no longer had a single spinning top. Seeing his forlorn look, Shinichi—

“I’ll give you one, Tatsu-chan,” he said, handing over a flat, gleaming top.

“Whoa, you’re giving him that flat one?” Yuuji’s eyes went round. “I just lent it to him,” Shinichi answered. When he heard this—who could say what passed through his mind—

“I don’t want it,” said Tatsuo and returned the top 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 the mat. At that moment—Zenkichi having been staring fixedly at what Koyama was doing— “Selfish cheapskate!” he said, stomping down on Koyama’s mat with the shoe he was wearing. “What do you think you’re doing?” said Koyama, trying to push Zenkichi down. Zenkichi, now unsteady,

“What’re you—” Zenkichi lunged at Koyama.

Three

“Hey, cut it out with the fighting,” said Shinichi.

“It’s because you’re being mean that fights happen,” said Zenkichi, and everyone looked at Koyama. “But it’s my mat—I bought it properly,” said Koyama, his face flushing red. “In return, I gave you a bey though.” “I don’t want this!” Koyama threw away the bey he’d been holding in one hand. “You don’t need to suddenly talk about studying,” said Take-chan.

“Talking about studying is what a teacher’s pet would say.” “I don’t need your meddling. Unlike some people here, I’m fine without getting any fancy backpack.” “What’d you say?” Take-chan, humiliated by this retort, tore Koyama’s mat apart with a sickening rip.

“Yah! Nice going,” Yu-chan clapped his hands. Koyama began heading back, sniffling quietly. “Listen up—you’ll remember this,” Koyama said, turning back toward them while crying.

“You bet we won’t play with you or anything,” answered Zen-chan.

“Should I throw a stone at you?” said Take-chan, picking up a stone at his feet.

“Stop it,” Shin-chan said, intervening. When she realized her brother was being bullied, Kaneko came running over. “Why’re you all picking on Brother?” “’Cause he’s acting cocky.” “Give back the mat you borrowed.” “Just take what’s there.” “I want one that isn’t torn like this! When I go to school tomorrow, I’ll tell Teacher.” “Go ahead and blab!” Take-chan yelled angrily, making a move to hit her, and Miss Kaneko fled.

“Fighting’s so boring,” said Zen-chan, pulling a ball from his pocket and hurling it skyward.

“Let’s play ball.”

As they were talking, a man wearing a bird-hunting cap and gaiters around his calves walked toward the field where everyone was gathered, leaning on a walking stick. "Oh! Isn't that the kamishibai man who came before?"

“That’s right—it’s the kamishibai man!” “Misterrr!” they all shouted. “Hey there!” laughed the kamishibai man. “What’s wrong, Mister? You haven’t come around in a while.”

“Ah, I’ve switched jobs—lately I’ve been making rounds to schools telling stories,” said the kamishibai man as he settled onto a grassy patch. “Don’t you know any interesting tales?” he asked everyone.

“What do you mean by ‘interesting stories’?” said Shin-chan.

“Any stories you’ve seen will do.” “Want me to do it for you, Mister?” said Zen-chan.

The friends all looked at Zen-chan’s face. “Yesterday, I went to the pool. “And then, while I was swimming, some kid brought along their little brother and sister. “He told them to grab onto the float and swim. “But it seemed like it was the first time for both the little brother and sister to enter the water—they were too scared to get in. “The brother had no choice but to swim alone. “Then those two started circling around the pool’s edge where he swam, following his path while munching rice crackers. “I couldn’t stop laughing when I saw that. “I mean—they were chasing after him while stuffing their faces with crackers!”

“Ha ha ha,” laughed the kamishibai man. Because he laughed so heartily, everyone joined in laughing. “I see,” said the kamishibai man. “Now it’s your turn, Mister.” “I went up north recently on a trip, and let me tell you—country kids are all working hard because of the national emergency. When they come home from school, some head to the mountains to haul back firewood, others go help with hoeing in the fields, and still others carry baskets stuffed with mulberry leaves on their backs or in their arms to bring home. Then again, there’s those who read books while babysitting. They don’t just fool around all day like town kids.”

“That’s harsh, Mister. Some of us do help our parents out, you know.”

“I see. That’s commendable.” “Don’t you have any more interesting stories, Mister?” “Then I went all the way to Karafuto.”

“Karafuto? You went all the way to that freezing place, huh?” The children recalled that narrow, elongated island jutting out at the northern edge, encircled by the blue sea’s hues.

“In tundra regions there exist marshy areas covered entirely with moss. “Once fire takes hold there it becomes nearly impossible to extinguish. “For years on end something like phosphorescent flames keep flaring up from below.”

"Also,in Karafuto,there exist great forests untouched by human hands," said the kamishibai storyteller."When fires ignite there,the situation turns dire indeed.No one can predict how far they'll spread.In such cases," he continued,"they clear trees dozens of meters ahead of advancing flames—creating empty space.They then set controlled burns at one edge.Soon,the approaching inferno from afar converges with our spreading blaze.What happens next?" He paused dramatically."A thunderous boom erupts! Flames shoot skyward like pillars! And thus,the fires die out." Leaning forward he concluded:"The air between grows so hot from twin flames—it gets utterly consumed!"

“That’s a really interesting story.” “Did you see that fire yourself, Mister?” “Nah, just a tale I picked up.” “What I actually saw was in some village—when they deployed military horses, they’d built this grand arch at the station. Schoolkids lined up waving flags in both hands to send them off.” “Whole country’s on emergency footing now—tense times everywhere.”

Four

At the edge of the field stood a small forest. Thick with diverse trees, its leaves shimmered like rippling waves when the wind blew. A little past noon, wooden clappers sounded clack-clack from that direction. The kamishibai storyteller man was summoning the children. In the field, those tossing a ball and chasing dragonflies began running one by two toward the sound, gathering within the woods.

In the forest stood a small Inari-sama shrine. The area before its torii had become a wide road leading to the town beyond. The kamishibai man had parked his bicycle by the torii and was waiting for everyone to arrive. Mitsuko-chan and Tomiko-san leaned against the stone fence. Shinichi and Yuji stood absently among the other children.

The spot was in cool shade, and overhead, cicadas were droning. Before long, the kamishibai man’s story titled “The Assault Soldier” began.

“One day, the conscription order came to Chuichi.” He cast aside the tools in his hands and rose at once. “Sister, I leave everything to you.” “Father, how are you feeling today?” After her brother’s departure, though frail herself, his sister worked tirelessly to care for their father. “You’ve tended to me well all these years. But now my time has come. My only regret is passing on without hearing word of my son’s deeds while I still draw breath.”

“Father, you mustn’t say such disheartened things.” “No—what matters more is that when I’m gone, you’ll be left alone. You are a Japanese woman. Do whatever lies within your power to serve Japan.”

“I understand perfectly, Father. The time has come when all people of Japan—whether man or woman, elderly or child—every last one must join forces and rise up. Though I am but a woman, I have always been prepared for this.”

“Ah, that puts my mind at ease.”

This was the father’s parting words.

Now shifting scenes—here lay the battlefield. The enemy stubbornly obstructed our army’s advance. Chuichi’s unit faced the enemy across a creek. At dawn the next day came the order to destroy the enemy’s pillbox. Chuichi and the brave soldiers who had pledged their lives to His Majesty the Emperor wrote 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 stood there wearing the white uniform of the National Defense Women’s Association. He gasped in shock—why had she come to such a place? “I have come to inform you, Brother.” “What?! Father has passed away?” “What did he say when you parted?”

“Yes,” said the younger sister tearfully, “Father said, ‘The only regret is that I’ll go without hearing of my son’s valor in this world.’” Private First Class Chuichi bolted upright. At that very moment, his eyes opened.

“Father, please forgive me. I will soon come to your side.”

When the kamishibai man had reached this part of his story, Zenkichi and Takeo came running,

“Shin-chan, Teacher Yoshikawa’s here! Hurry up!” they called out, attempting to hide behind the shrine. Startled, Shinichi and Yuji ran after them.

The kamishibai storyteller man must have wondered what was going on. “What’s going on? What’s going on?” he asked. “The school teacher came,” they said.

“What? The teacher—there’s nothing wrong with it at all,” the man declared boldly.

School teachers, seven or eight of them, had passed by while observing traffic control with upper-grade students in tow. When the teachers had left, Shinichi, Yuji, Zenkichi, and Takeo all showed their faces.

“What’s the matter, everyone?” asked the kamishibai man.

“We got caught spinning tops in front of the torii just now.” “Why did you come here if you weren’t going to listen to the story? That’s why you’re scared of Teacher Yoshikawa—because you do things like that,” the kamishibai man laughed. “Koyama-kun told Teacher Yoshikawa about us.” “That’s why he came right up to us and tried to check what we were doing.”

“When we go to school tomorrow, we’ll get scolded,” Zenkichi said dejectedly.

“Koyama-kun, you’re such a coward. I did it as payback for what happened before,” said Shinichi.

“Really, you’re such a coward.”

“Mister, what happened next in this story?” asked another young child. “The rest of the story continues tomorrow,” said the kamishibai man. “That’s all for today.” The children scattered in every direction. “Mister,” said Shinichi, “you’re friends with that other kamishibai man who came before, aren’t you?”

“Ah, friends—we travel around performing kamishibai so that everyone becomes good people and Japan grows ever stronger,” answered the kamishibai man. “So you’re not a real candy seller after all, Mister?” Zenkichi looked 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, you probably wouldn’t listen.”

“I’ll 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 here,” said the kamishibai man. “You all prefer candy to the story.” “We want to listen to your story and get candy too!” said Zenkichi. “I’d be fine with just the story alone,” replied the kamishibai man. “Who’s so great? Ha ha ha,” he laughed.

Five

The next day, on their way home from school, Zenkichi and Takeo were kept behind by Teacher Yoshikawa.

“Surely, Zen-chan, it’s about the spinning tops,” said Takeo. “Yeah, obviously. But why can’t we spin tops?” Zenkichi said, looking up at the persimmon tree outside the window.

Since autumn had begun, the sunlight seemed even stronger than in summer. One by one, it streamed down, glinting on the leaves. “The persimmons are growing, Take-chan. This one’s probably astringent.” “It might be sweet. From here, can’t we reach that branch?” “If you jump for it, you could reach it, but if you fall, it’d be trouble.” The two of them kept thinking about various things while looking at the persimmon tree from the second-floor window. And they found themselves wishing they could hurry home and play. Not only that—when they imagined their mothers and older sisters worrying about them, staying here like this became unbearable.

“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 coming down the corridor could be heard. The two of them suddenly straightened up properly. Teacher Yoshikawa settled into the podium chair,

“Come here,” Zenkichi and Takeo were called to the front. “What were you doing after returning home yesterday?” the Teacher asked, looking at their faces.

Zenkichi raised his face and, “We were throwing balls and playing with spinning tops,” he answered honestly.

“Wasn’t there a rule against spinning tops?” When Zenkichi heard this from the teacher, he fell silent and lowered his head.

“And what do you think?” Teacher Yoshikawa inquired, this time addressing Takeo. “I don’t think it’s good,” Takeo answered. “Why did you do something you knew was wrong?” The teacher’s face grew increasingly severe.

“In the end, I thought we could just return all the spinning tops we’d won,” said Zenkichi.

Teacher Yoshikawa remained silent for a while, listening to what Zenkichi was saying, but— “Do you think it’s acceptable to do something wrong and then just make amends later?” he said. “Teacher, is spinning tops a bad thing?” Takeo asked this time, looking at the teacher’s face with a puzzled expression. Teacher Yoshikawa tilted his head slightly and did not reply immediately, but after a while,

“I’m not saying that spinning tops themselves are wrong. It’s wagering items when you win or lose that’s prohibited. With spinning tops specifically, it’s forbidden because matches end up becoming exchanges where winners claim losers’ tops as prizes.” “Teacher, then if we just compete by spinning tops without betting anything, that’s allowed?”

“If you don’t wager things, there’s nothing wrong with it—as long as everyone sticks to just one top each.” “I too loved spinning tops when I was a boy.”

“Teacher, did you play with spinning tops too?” The two children looked at him in surprise. “No, when I was a boy, we didn’t have things like metal spinning tops.” “They were either larger wooden tops or ones fitted with iron rims.” “Wooden tops simply couldn’t compete against iron-rimmed ones.” “And those spinning top battles—they were truly fierce affairs.”

Teacher Yoshikawa recalled his own childhood and told them how everyone had been satisfied just by competing without wagering things as they do now. “Wooden tops would often split clean in two when they hit iron-rimmed ones. “The splitting itself was half the fun. “But ones made from camellia wood were so hard they rarely broke—instead, they’d spark on impact and sometimes send those iron-rimmed tops flying right into ditches.”

“Teacher, that’s interesting.” “It’s interesting, but you ought to quit things like spinning tops. These days, aren’t there plenty of enjoyable games where everyone can have fun together and determine wins and losses?” the Teacher said.

By this time, Teacher’s face had returned to its usual gentle expression. “Teacher, I understand now,” said Zenkichi. “Understood?”

“I understand. But I think those who tattle to Teacher are even more cowardly,” said Takeo. “Just don’t do things that would get you tattled on,” he said. “Well then, you’d better go home now.”

Teacher Yoshikawa stood up and briskly walked off toward the corridor.

“When I told this story to the black-glasses kamishibai man,” said Zenkichi, “he said Tatsu-chan called it cowardly to tattle to Teacher since he couldn’t fight himself.” “The man said he knows Teacher well.” “Ah, he also said Japanese children mustn’t think about things like gain or loss.” “He said we must do what’s right.”

The two boys descended the stairs and exited through the school gate while talking.

“Zen-chan, look at that dog.”

Looking in the direction Takeo pointed, a white dog followed its owner with a ball in its mouth. At the gate of a house lay a brown dog sprawled on its belly; when it noticed this, it suddenly sprang up and began barking. The distance between the two dogs gradually closed. However, the dog holding the ball acted oblivious and followed its owner without glancing sideways, just as the brown dog was about to pounce.

6

The red soil field lay empty of players. The man leading the brown dog produced a ball and hurled it with full force into the distance. The ball soared into the azure sky before arcing downward. "Go," commanded the man, and the dog sprinted forth.

“Mister, what’s the dog’s name?” asked Takeo.

“John.” “But he’s not a purebred shepherd, you know,” the man replied. “That’s a fine dog,” said Zenkichi admiringly. John came back holding the ball in his mouth. “It’s all in the training, isn’t it? Making a good dog really takes some doing.”

John was about to place the ball in front of his master when— “Hey!” The man scolded and tried to strike John with the whip in his hand. John immediately noticed and, darting in a full circle from right to left around the man’s feet, placed the ball. “Good boy,” the man said, patting the dog’s head. Then, leaving the dog waiting there, the man hurried off alone in that direction. Before long, the man’s figure disappeared into the thickly overgrown clump of grass. John, who had been sitting still while watching that direction, perhaps feeling lonely now that his master was out of sight, whimpered plaintively and longed for the man. Zenkichi and Takeo also came to find the faithful dog endearing.

The man reappeared from a different direction and returned.

“Go on,” came the command. Immediately, John began tracing his master’s footsteps to retrieve the ball. “Mister, did you go hide the ball?”

“I buried it in the soil, but I doubt you’ll find it easily,” the man said with a laugh.

No matter how long they waited, John did not return. He couldn’t find it. Eventually, John returned dejectedly, carrying nothing in his mouth. When he saw this, the man made a stern face and glared at the dog. And, raising his hand, “No!” he shouted. John ran off again to search in that direction. “Poor thing, he can’t find it,” Takeo said sympathetically to the dog.

At that moment, a boy came for a walk with the white dog from earlier. And they came to where everyone was. “He’s like a Pointer substitute,” the man said, patting the white dog’s head. The dog stayed quiet. The man was quite knowledgeable about dog breeds. He also treated every dog with affection. Dogs, too, seemed to recognize those who treated them with affection. John finally found the ball and came running back happily with it in his mouth. The man, pleased, waited for John to approach. When the dog circled around and placed the ball in front of him, he affectionately patted its head.

“He’s so clever,” said the boy as he watched this. “Down!” When the man gave the command, John dropped to his belly on the ground. “Crawl forward!” John crawled forward on his belly. Takeo, who had been watching this, turned to Zenkichi and, “So when you go to war, you have to crawl without letting the enemy spot you, huh?” he whispered. The white dog also stayed quiet and watched what John was doing. Then, the boy,

“See here, can you even do something like that?” he said, pressing his cheek against the dog’s face. The man watched and laughed. “Aren’t you teaching him anything?” “This dog can only retrieve a stick if you throw one—that’s about all it can do.”

“That dog is a hunting breed, isn’t he?”

“That’s why whenever he sees chickens or cats, he just can’t help chasing after them,” said the boy. Before long, the boy went off that way with his dog.

Once the man had finished his routine training with the brown dog, he turned to Zenkichi and Takeo,

“Goodbye,” he said, then led John home.

“Ah, I’m going to be late getting home today.” “When I get home, Mom will definitely scold me,” Takeo worried.

"I could just say there was a study session."

Zenkichi felt guilty about telling a lie but had resolved to go through with it.

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

The days grew increasingly cooler. Standing in the red soil field and gazing silently at the sky, when they shifted their gaze toward the source of the cry, they could see a flock of small black migratory birds flying in formation. Woof, woof—a dog was barking. When they looked in that direction, it was John—the dog the man had brought before.

“John! John!” called Zenkichi. John came running. Nearby, along with Takeo, Shinichi was also there. “Whose dog is this?”

Shinichi asked.

"He’s the dog some man brought here once," said Takeo, looking around to see if the man was nearby. For some reason, the man was nowhere to be seen. “John, what’s wrong? Are you all alone?” When Zenkichi said this, John happily leaped up. “He must have gotten lost on the way.” “Let’s hide somewhere. Then we’ll see what John does,” said Takeo.

7

“That’s it—I’ve figured something out!”

“What kind of idea?”

Takeo and Shinichi looked at Zenkichi’s face.

“While John searches for the ball, we’ll hide somewhere,” said Zenkichi. “Then we’ll see what he does.” “What’ll he do? This should be fun,” Shinichi replied. “He might just go home.” “No, he’ll definitely come looking for us…”

“Alright, let’s give it a shot!” Takeo showed John the ball, then ran off toward the grassy thicket. Then, without being noticed, he hid himself in the grass. Takeo returned panting and, “John, go find the ball,” he commanded immediately. John went running off.

“Alright, let’s hide now! Where should we go?” Zenkichi, leading the way as he ran, shouted. “Let’s go to my house’s storage shed.”

The three boys ran across the red soil field toward the direction opposite where the dog had gone. The other side of the wide road immediately turned into town. And closest by was Zenkichi’s house. They dealt in clay pipes, gravel, cement, and such. Inside the storage shed, these items were piled up. The three boys, cramped and uncomfortable, pressed their bodies together as they hid in a corner, taking turns peering through a knothole to watch the field.

“What’s going on? He’s not coming.” “Maybe he went home?” Suddenly, Shinichi, who had been peering,

“He’s here! He’s here! John’s searching like a madman!”

“He’s not coming over here.” “Because he’s tracking our footprints.” “What about the ball?” “He’s got it in his mouth.” “Since he looks so pitiful, maybe we should come out,” said Zenkichi.

However, before long, John came to the small shed. And then, putting the ball down, he began to whimper mournfully.

“John!” At that moment, the three of them, vying to be first, rushed out of the storage shed. “The address is written on his tag, so I’ll take you there now,” said Shinichi, patting John’s head.

In the garden, the fruits of the plum-like tree had turned red, and beneath it stood a house where camellias were blooming. That was John’s dear home.

When the three boys stood at the entrance, John wagged his tail and began barking joyfully—"Woof! Woof!" The woman who slid open the shoji door and stepped out looked startled to see a dog and children there. When they explained they had brought John after finding him lost, "Oh my! That’s so very kind of you," she said gratefully. "We’ve been worried sick since he went missing—everyone’s out searching right now." "We always keep him tied up, but when I took off his chain this morning, he vanished."

Takeo tied John to the chain and,

“Goodbye,” he said. As the three of them turned toward John in unison while trying to exit the gate, John tried to follow, rattling his chain and barking. “Boys, please wait a moment!” the woman said hurriedly as she came out from the back. And slipping on her geta, she brought a paper-wrapped package to where everyone was.

“This is just a small token of my gratitude. Please buy some candy or snacks or something with this and share them among yourselves,” the woman said, trying to place it in Shinichi’s hand.

“No, we don’t need anything like that,” Shinichi said, withdrawing his hand. “You shouldn’t say such things. Here, take it,” the woman said, this time trying to hand it to Zenkichi. “If we buy sweets or something, we’ll get scolded,” Zenkichi said, withdrawing his hand too.

“Then please buy pencils and share them,” the woman insisted, forcing the package into Takeo’s hand. Takeo wondered what he should do, but thinking it would be rude to refuse when she had insisted this much, he accepted it and went outside. “This is a problem. What should I do with this?” Takeo consulted the two.

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

“Oh! The kamishibai storyteller man has come!”

The three of them ran toward where the children were gathered. There, Koyama, Kaneko, Mitsuko, and Tomiko were already there. “Hey, the man with black glasses is going to China,” Koyama said, looking at the three of them.

“Really? Is the man with black glasses going to China?” Takeo asked the kamishibai man. “It’s absolutely true—I’m joining a propaganda unit and going to China this time,” answered the kamishibai man. The man with black glasses had once told them a story in this field about his trip to Karafuto.

“Does a propaganda unit mean helping Chinese people?” asked Miss Tomiko.

“Ah, that’s right. And I’ll tell those Chinese children some fun stories. Just imagine how happy they’ll be.”

“What kind of stories?” “Well, since it’s that man telling them, they’ll be about Japanese children,” the kamishibai man replied. “I’ll make sure to tell stories about you all—how every Japanese child is honest, kind, and wonderfully behaved.” He chuckled. Shinichi tilted his head thoughtfully. “Hmm… Should we give that man a farewell flag?” “Exactly!” the storyteller agreed. “Let’s use the reward money from John’s owners to buy one.” “I’ll contribute some coins too,” Koyama added. The crimson sunset blazed across the red soil field.