Pathway to Japanese Literature

Characters

Endō Matazō

Wife Naho

Daughter Kinu

Student

Barber

Young Man

Old Gentleman

Neighbor's Wife

Artisan

Place

The shabby outskirts of Tokyo

Time

Early winter.

Tobacco shop owner Endō Matazō was reading the evening paper while speaking to his daughter Kinu beside him.

Endō Matazō: “You say that, but how much do you think Okayo makes with all that?”

“I’ve been making thirty yen since last month.”

Matazō: “So you see, that thirty yen—all of it ends up going to train fare and makeup, I tell ya.”

Kinu: “I know.”

Matazō: “You know...? If you know, then why d’you say such things? It’s ’cause you’ve been minding this shop that we’ve even got customers tricklin’ in now. It’s true. No call to pull that face.”

Kinu: “That’s why I’m sayin’ I hate it! I hate sittin’ here like some signboard!”

“Isn’t that for the family’s sake too?”
“If you ask me, Okayo working out there like that—that’s also for her family.”
“Her mother’s alone over there with no property, and what little her brother brings in—they can’t manage. So she’s got no choice but to go work among strangers like that.”
“Whether that’s good or bad—I couldn’t say.”
“She’ll never turn into anything proper, that girl…”

“Even if I keep on like this, I'll never amount to anything decent. Even if I memorize all these cigarette names, nobody’s going to think I'm impressive or anything…”

“If you’re going to say that—is there anyone who sees Okayo caking on that face powder every morning and doesn’t talk behind her back? Things like how with a thirty-yen salary, there’s no way she could doll herself up like that, or how someone saw her getting off a train with a man at some suburban station…”

Kinu: “If you care about people’s gossip, you’ll never get anything done.”
Kinu: “I want to work and support myself on my own.”
Kinu: “Right now there’s no need to worry about that yet—but I’m sure there’ll be trouble soon enough.”

“What trouble could there possibly be?”
“Once I take in a proper adopted son, I’ll hand this shop over to you lot.”
“I’ll find myself some sharper work to rake in cash… Either way, I won’t be burdening you.”

Kinu: “Then, is it absolutely no good?”

Matazō: “No good.”
“Hey—instead of yammering on, get those Cherries out of the box already.”
“Where’s Mother?”

Kinu (taking Cherries out of the box and putting them into the jar): “Probably preparing for dinner.”

Matazō: “There really are some absent-minded people out there.”
“There’s a man who went and forgot two thousand yen in a car, I tell ya.”

Kinu (ignoring his remark): “If we don’t start carrying foreign cigarettes here too, we’re really missing out.”
“Lately, we’ve been getting customers like that every single day.”

Matazō: “Tell them we promote domestic products.”
“The kind of fellows who smoke foreign cigarettes are always the ones with empty pockets.”
“Ah, the culprit who threw excrement into President Tamabuchi’s residence has been caught.”
“I see. Just as I thought.”

At that moment, a man who looked like a student approached the front of the shop and began peering into the shelves.

Kinu: “Welcome.”

Student: “Do you have Westminster?”

Kinu looked toward her father.

Matazō: “Westminster? Huh—” (to Kinu) “Hey.”

Student: “Westminster…?”

Matazō: “We don’t have Westminster…”

Student: “I see. This is a problem. Well then… do you have anything else… foreign cigarettes…?”

“I’m afraid we don’t have any foreign cigarettes at all…”

Student: “Do you really have nothing at all?”

Matazō: “How about Alma or Nile?”

Student: “Those taste awful.
“Then I’ll make do with one Bat.”

Kinu (handing over Bat): “Thank you kindly.”

The student left.

A rather long interval passed.

Before long, the barber appeared at the shopfront, still holding the evening paper.

Barber: "He’s finally been caught, hasn’t he?"

Matazō: "Caught, huh? Just like I figured—the culprit’s exactly who I suspected."

Barber: "That’s how it went down, eh? But I’ll say this—the police sure do their digging. Doesn’t feel like they measure up though."

Matazō: "What do you expect? They’re second best in the world—that counts for something."

Barber: "Second best…?"

Matazō: "First place goes to Germany, naturally."

Barber: “Is that so…”

Matazō: “Speaking of second place—not that I can say this too loudly—but they say Japan’s dentists are also second in the world. First place? That’d be America.”

Barber: “So Mr. Suda next door—he’s second in the world, is he?”

Matazō: “Even if he’s second in the world, letting tobacco debts pile up like this is no good. By the way, how did that matter turn out?”

Barber: “…………?”

Matazō: “That matter about the house for sale.”

Barber: “Oh, that matter? They say it’s still not settled. ¥2,800—the buyer made a clever offer, didn’t they? On the other hand—they won’t back down so easily. That’s right—the asking price is ¥3,600 after all…”

“A net three thousand would do fine,” Matazō said. “Leave it to me and I’d sell it for ya.”

The barber nodded. “I’ll mention it when they come next. The neighbor’s wife was saying just the other day—‘I wonder if that tobacco shop next door might extend us credit…’”

“And what about that patent medicine business?”

“The vermifuge? They’ve gone quiet since then.” The barber scratched his chin. “Must’ve given up. They say patent medicines are under heavy scrutiny now.”

Matazō: “Take the gamble—it’d be profitable, you know…”
Matazō: “Of course, you’d have to take it out to the countryside…”

“Miss Kinu, about last night…”
“Oh, what was it again…”

Barber: “Ugh, don’t play dumb…”

Kinu: “I don’t understand either. I…”

Barber: “If you don’t get it, fine.”

Matazō: “What’s going on?”

Barber: “Hmm… After I sent that young fellow home last night, I figured there wouldn’t be any more customers, so I went to Kiraku-ken and played some billiards. So then, unfortunately, a regular customer came while I was out—and they went out of their way to notify Miss Kinu about it… Kind people do things like that and then just forget all about it…”

“Oh no—that’s not how it was!”
“It’s because I get sent out to call for people way too often.”

“Tch! No call for such coldness!”
“Can’t manage things this way, Pop...”

“How’s your billiards coming along?”

“Same as Mr. Aokidō—thirty-five. I started half a year after him.”

“But then again, isn’t that guy a stroke patient?”

“On top of that, he’s presbyopic. But y’know, strange things happen. That fellow’s an important customer at the billiard hall after all. Plus, he loves showing off his generosity—treats women who rack up games to eel rice bowls. So even when I play him—and my aim’s better—he sometimes finishes games first. Found it odd, so I watched his scoring tricks—turns out he knocks ten points down to seven on his turn, then lets ’em score three or five on theirs. No real contest that way.”

“Is Kiraku-ken doing well?”

“Lately, it’s been losing steam, hasn’t it? No matter how you look at it, Okami’s making such a fuss.”
“There must be customers who’d find that delightful.”

Barber: “That sort of thing’s only students and the like, you know. Students these days—seems like they’re fine with being buttered up even by some old hag. ‘Mr. So-and-so, come over here for a moment.’ When someone says ‘What’s with this tear in your hakama?…’ they just smirk.”

Matazō: “You’re clever, Mr. Yoshī…”

At this moment, a young man entered.

“Welcome.”

“Uh, I don’t have any money on me right now, but I’ll go home and bring it immediately. Could you let me have two Bat cigarettes? I’ll leave this shakuhachi here as collateral until then…”

“I see. Where do you live…?”

“Right nearby. The alley by Rengeji Temple. I could go home properly and come back, but I can’t wait that long. Even one would be fine… This shakuhachi—you can’t possibly accept just one Bat cigarette for it.”

Endō Matazō: (glancing at the barber) No, it’s not that we distrust you, but... we maintain a strict cash policy for all customers...
“No need for formalities... Just one Bat will suffice...”
“Hey, hand it over.”

Kinu (handing a Bat to the young man): “Will one be acceptable?”

Young Man: “Yes, that’s perfectly fine.”
“This saves me.”
(Saying this, he extracts one and lights it) “Truly—at this stage—it’s an affliction.”
“I’ll return with payment shortly.”
(Starting to leave) “Ah! Right—please safeguard this for me.”

“That’s perfectly all right,” said Kinu.

“Since he’s gone to the trouble of offering it,” said Matazō, “why don’t you just keep it for him as he wishes?”

"But..."
(While saying this, she accepted the bagged shakuhachi as it was handed to her.)

Young Man: "Here—look inside."
"It’s not just some bamboo stick."

Matazō: (Taking the bag) "What’s there to see? We wouldn’t know quality if we saw it."

Young Man: "This could fetch a yen! Even one-fifty!"
"Well then..."
(He exited.)

(A beat.)

Matazō: "Never seen that fellow before."

Kinu: “If they’re from around here, I’d usually recognize them, but...”

Barber: “Might’ve moved in recently.”
“Speaking of Rengeji Temple’s alley—there’s Yōmeikan too...”
“Those students squatting in boarding houses—here today, gone tomorrow, I tell you. Then some bloke you never laid eyes on till yesterday shows up today with a hand towel dangling from his shoulder for a trim.”

Matazō: “Never heard of anyone pawning a shakuhachi for smokes.”
(Pulling the flute from its bag) “This thing’s no better than a blowpipe to me.”
“You know how to play this, Mr. Yoshī?”

Barber: “If you’re calling it a blowpipe, it’s got too fine a polish.”
(Takes it and pretends to blow) “It’s making a feeble sound.”

At this moment, a dignified old gentleman appeared at the shopfront.

“Welcome,” said Kinu.
“Do you have cigars?” asked the Old Gentleman.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have any…”

Old Gentleman: “I see.”
“I don’t suppose there are any shops like that around here.”

Kinu: “If you go to the next tram stop, there is one shop, though.”
“A large tobacco shop…”

“Ah, I see.”
“Well then, since I’m here, I’ll take one Shikishima to keep.”

Kinu: “Oh no, there’s truly no need for you to trouble yourself…”

Matazō: “If he wishes for it, why not simply present it to him?”

Old Gentleman: (noticing the shakuhachi) “Pardon me—is this item in your possession?”
“Might I examine it…”
(Taking and studying it intently) “Where did you obtain this?”

Matazō: “Ah—well—in truth, a certain young gentleman has entrusted this to us just now. He’ll return shortly to claim it.”

Old Gentleman (showing surprise): "He left this here without a word?"

Matazō: "Huh."

Old Gentleman (with a tense expression and a faintly sarcastic smile): "You likely don't realize this, but this shakuhachi is what's called a *Takenotakegan*—made by the first Shien himself. The node lengths, pipe thickness, curvature—all painstakingly aligned to precise musical intervals. Instruments with node proportions like these have been considered rare since ancient times."

“I see,” said Matazō.

The Old Gentleman leaned forward. “There can’t be ten such shakuhachi in all of Japan. This is no ordinary piece. I must know whose hands it passed through—could I meet that person?”

Matazō rubbed his chin. “If only we knew where to find him… Though he claims to live nearby. Perhaps if you waited…”

Old Gentleman: “I can’t just wait here idly, so please inquire his address and name when that gentleman comes.”
“He’ll return eventually…”

Matazō: “Is that so?”
“Understood.”

Old Gentleman: “This has been my passion since youth—during the Russo-Japanese War, on a moonlit night aboard Asama’s deck, that General Ashino you’ve heard of who played the shakuhachi... he too was my friend.”
“The shakuhachi he carried was my farewell gift to him, but this one here belonged to Kanzaki Yogorō of the Forty-seven Loyal Retainers—an unparalleled masterpiece said to have been dropped at Kira’s gate on the night of their raid.”

“Huh.”

Old Gentleman: “Given all that, I’ve always kept an eye out for fine shakuhachi, you know. But these days, such discoveries are few and far between.”
“Most likely it was handed down through an esteemed Kantō family—yet how could a treasure meant to stay within household walls fall into such hands…?”
“Though what sort of person that might be—I couldn’t say…”

Matazō: “Well, if I may… I wouldn’t say he’s that sort of person…”
“After all, he claimed he lacked even the money for Bat cigarettes and left this as collateral.”
“But he did insist he’d return with the cash shortly—so we agreed to hold it for him.”
“People are unfathomable.”
“Ah—Mr. Yoshii—”

Barber: “Honestly… Now that you mention it, this bag here’s an old thing too.”

Old Gentleman: “No, that’s likely just a makeshift item. If it were housed in a brocade bag instead, one could trace its origin… but regardless, the contents are unmistakably a *Takenotakegan*.”

Barber: “I just heard the name—can’t say I know—but how much’s it worth?”

Old Gentleman: “Now that you mention it, Sir—I have a matter to discuss with you. If that person might consider parting with this at a fair price, I’d very much like to acquire it. Could you perhaps sound him out on that front?”
“Though it’s awkward to negotiate without knowing his circumstances—if he remains unaware and I seem overeager, or if he scrutinizes my resources and finds them wanting—it would be distasteful to haggle deceptively. But for my part, I’d start by offering around three hundred yen.”
“Please keep this figure in mind.”
“Depending on how talks proceed, I might stretch a bit further.”
“Rather than approaching him myself, I believe it would be easier for him to let go if you were to raise the matter discreetly. What do you say?”

Matazō: “Well, what do you think? Then, how about this—would it be acceptable if I were to act as an intermediary?”

Old Gentleman: “That would be splendid—if you would handle it that way, it’d save considerable trouble. Nothing could be better. It goes without saying, but please ensure you don’t show it to anyone else until I come. The world isn’t full of blind people… Hahaha. Then, around what time should I come?”

Matazō: “Since he informed us he’d come right away, I believe he should be arriving soon. In that case, if an hour passes, shall we request your presence?”

"Oh! He's here from across the way."

Matazō: "I see."
"Well then, what should we do?"
"Could you wait somewhere nearby for a while..."

Old Gentleman: "Very well. Then I shall while away the time playing billiards at that hall over there."
"Once matters are concluded, please send someone to fetch me."
(Exits.)

At that moment, the young man from earlier appeared.

Young Man: “Thank you.”
“A friend had come over, so I was delayed...”
“Then, with this, could I get about two more Bats, please?”

Kinu: “Here you go.”
(Hands over the Bats and receives the money)

Matazō: “Well then, the item left in our custody is indeed...”
“Hey, Kinu. You go to the back.”

Kinu exited to the back.

Matazō: “Mr. Yoshii, since this is that sort of matter, could you step outside for a moment?”

Barber: “Oh, right, right. Well then, some other time...”
(He exits.)

Matazō: “This may be presumptuous of me, but might I ask you to part with this shakuhachi?”

Young Man: (Startled) “This one?”

Matazō: “You must find this sudden, but truthfully, I’ve wanted to learn the shakuhachi for quite some time now.
‘Twould be absurd to take up lessons with a teacher at my age, you see.
Fortunately, there are folks nearby who can manage a tune somehow or another—so if I just had one myself, that’d do...
But when buying one myself, I can’t tell quality from dross. Ask others to help, and they won’t fetch mere cheap things—it’s been quite the ordeal, I tell you.
Then today, you came along with this in hand.
From your bearing alone, ‘tis clear you’re a player yourself.
Since it’s an instrument you’ve used, I thought—well, authenticity’s assured at least. Though I’ve no notion of its worth... Earlier I got a rough idea when I asked... So if you’d part with it for around that sum... Well, that’s why I bring this up for discussion. What say you?”

Young Man: “Ah, earlier—it’s true I said those things—but to tell you the truth, this isn’t some cheap item.”

Matazō: “That must be so.”

Young Man: “I’m still no good at playing it, but this shakuhachi has been passed down from my grandfather’s generation. It’s the one thing I don’t want to let go of.”
“It’s not something I can trade for a pittance.”

Matazō: “Ah, you’re quite right...”
“But...”

Young Man: “But—if you’re saying you’ll cover a month’s lodging fee, then this would be something special.”
(Laughs)

Matazō: “Then…”

Young Man: “But from a buyer’s perspective, it’s not something of such value.”
“Well, let’s drop this talk.”

Matazō: “Be that as it may, I’ve wanted a shakuhachi with such a pedigree.”
“What I mean is—even if new ones cost a fortune, they’re a dime a dozen. Things with age aren’t so easily come by.”
“At my age, having one or two old man’s hobbies wouldn’t be out of place—I’ve gathered a modest collection of instruments over time. Knowing its history only makes me more reluctant to let it go.”
“How about this—I’ll cover your month’s lodging fee? Let’s call it fate.”
“Making deals isn’t the only skill worth having.”
“State your terms.”
“One month’s lodging fee—how much do you need?”

Young Man: “Are you serious about that…? You mustn’t take this on. It’s not like I’m desperate to part with it, but since this is amusing, I’ll entertain the discussion. If you dislike it, just say no. No need to hold back…”

“Very well,” said Matazō. “Shall we discuss it?”

A long time passed.

The young man found this slightly odd.

Matazō: I don’t mind.
“One month’s lodging fee—I don’t mind.”

Young Man: “Is it really okay?”
“Well then, how about ¥100?”

Matazō: (Eyes widening) “¥100…”

A rather long silence…

“You must be shocked.”

Matazō: “One month’s worth, you say…?”

Young Man: “That’s the price for the shakuhachi.”

Matazō: "I see…"
(Ponders)

A rather long pause...

Young Man: “Goodbye...”
“I was just kidding about that...”
(laughed as he started to leave)

Matazō: “Wait, wait—how about this: I’ll give you fifty yen now, and the remaining fifty tomorrow?”

Young Man: “You really don’t need to go that far for me.”
“I didn’t come here to do business or anything...”
“A shakuhachi like this can be found anywhere.”
“If you paid two or three yen more, you might get a better one.”

Endō Matazō: “No—no, there’s a reason I must have this.”
“Fate’s got me hooked—damn it, hand it over!”
(As he spoke, he opened the safe’s lid, mixed bills and coins, and gave ¥100 to the young man.) “Count it.”

Young Man: (Awkwardly) “Oh... Is that so?”
“If you insist that way, then there’s no help for it.”
“Well then, please take good care of my father’s memento shakuhachi.”
(Handed the shakuhachi to Matazō with reverence)

A long moment passed.

Young Man: “Well, this should keep me going for a while.”
“I’ll come by sometimes to see it, you know.”

Matazō: (Silently nods.)
(Gazes intently at the shakuhachi.)

After the young man left, another long silence ensued.

Matazō: (As if remembering) “Kinu, go call that gentleman here.”
“Go to Kiraku-ken and tell him it’s settled. Then come back after you’ve said that.”

Kinu (peering out from the back): “How did it go?”

Matazō: “Never mind that—just go fetch him quickly!”

Naho, his wife, appeared.

“Dinner’s ready, but would you like to take your bath first?”

“Hey, did you hear?”

Naho: "The shakuhachi matter? Does such a dreamlike story even exist?"

Matazō: "Well look here—making two hundred yen overnight isn't shabby profit."

Naho: "So you got mixed up in this and made two hundred yen..."

Matazō: "Hey! Who said you could shout about it? Has Kinu gone already?"

Naho left, muttering something under her breath.

"She needn't mutter," he said to no one in particular. "Nothing's more terrifying than ignorance when you get down to it." He paced behind the counter, fingers tracing the flute's bamboo joints. "Not knowing others, not knowing heaven, not knowing oneself—that's the root of it."

The safe door stood ajar behind him. He paused before its yawning mouth. Now what about me? Benefit others and profit yourself—that's life's first principle. Isn't that so?

Before anyone noticed, Naho had vanished.

Matazō—noticing her absence but feigning nonchalance—muttered under his breath: “If I claim I bought it for three hundred yen… No—that’d make my story sound too polished.” He tapped his chin. “Four hundred? Or maybe three-seventy after haggling?”

The barber came again.

Barber: “How did it go?”
“Did it come through?”

Matazō: “Whew, that guy really put me through the wringer.”

Barber: “Did he catch on?”

Matazō: “Far from just catching on. He knows its true worth, all right.”

Barber: “Is that so? You can’t let your guard down with this sort of thing, huh? Aren’t you going to hand it over?”

Matazō: “I handled that part cleverly. But even if I say three hundred yen, he won’t budge an inch.”

Barber: “Nicely done. As expected, there aren’t just blind folks around, huh? So, in the end…”

“I’ll explain later,” said Matazō. “He’ll be here any minute now. I just sent her to fetch him.”

Barber: “Maybe I shouldn’t be here again either.”

Matazō: “Stay put this time. Just act like you saw and heard everything. Otherwise—no, better yet—that way even they’ll feel at ease. You’re part of this deal too. There might be something in it for you.”

Barber: “You’ve got to keep up appearances, no matter where…”

The neighbor’s wife, wearing her hair in a traditional chignon, appeared.

Matazō: “Welcome…”

“Good day…”
“It’s dreadfully cold, isn’t it…”

“Well, it is December after all.”
“This morning—that person who was shouting so loudly…”

“He’s some newcomer from who-knows-where—what a spineless creature.”
“From the moment they gave him the injection, he started carrying on—‘It hurts! It hurts!’”
“Then he grabbed my husband’s hair and wouldn’t let go—I nearly burst out laughing watching from the side.”

“He’s an adult, right?”
“He’s an adult alright… With that purple handkerchief peeking out from his suit pocket—what a poser.”
“By the way, I’ll take about ten Shikishima again.”

Matazō: Ten?
(He counts them out and hands them over.)

“Well then, put this on my tab, please.”
“Right, right.”

The neighbor’s wife hurriedly left.

Barber: “Well now, that’s some nerve she’s got.”

Endō Matazō: “If that were all, it’d be fine—but she even tells my Kinu to get gold teeth whenever she lays eyes on her.”

Barber: “She’s saying she’ll give you a special discount, you know. Though gold teeth would suit Miss Kinu. I’m sure they would…”

Matazō: “Hey, hasn’t he come yet? Go take a look over there.”

Barber: (steps outside to look in that direction) “Can’t see him. Maybe he’s planning to finish a game before coming.”

“What’s Kinu doing?”

“She’s probably watching from nearby—it’s not every day you see something like this.”

“If only she’d hurry up and get back already…”

“Ah! There they are! There they are!”

“Both of them?”

“No—just Miss Kinu…”

“Just one?” Matazō asked.

The Barber turned around and came running back.

“Alright…” Matazō muttered. “Go ask if he’s coming soon.”

Barber: “Go ask Miss Kinu.”

While they were saying this, Kinu returned from the front.

"He hasn’t come… That person…"

Matazō: (leaping to his feet) "What?! He isn’t here?!"

Even when Kinu asked around, that person hadn't come...
He must have gone somewhere else.

Barber: "Around here, there's more than just that one house over there."

Matazō: "That's strange... That can't be right...
Mr. Yoshī, sorry to trouble you, but would you go ask around?
This isn't working."

Barber: "Alright. Coming."

Kinu: "I did ask properly, you know."

The barber ran off.

Matazō: "If he's not there, then where could he have gone?
He wouldn't have gone far... Ah, go to Café Ural and take a look inside.
Maybe he's over there having ice cream or something."

“Do I just need to look inside?”

“If he isn’t there,” said Matazō,“ask at the counter.”
“Mention ‘a distinguished gentleman with a beard,’ and they’ll recognize him immediately.”
“There isn’t another dignified old man like that around here.”

Kinu left.

Naho appeared from the back.

Naho: “The meal’s already ready, you know…”

Matazō: “This isn’t the time to be eating! Don’t you understand what state of mind I’m in right now? It’s a crossroads—either throw away a hundred yen or make two hundred! One or the other!”

Naho: “Oh, so now we’re supposed to throw away a hundred yen?”

Matazō: “It’s not settled yet. What’s wrong with you? You’re always so half-hearted about everything.”

“If I took every word you said at face value,” Naho thought, “I’d turn red and pale a dozen times a day.” Aloud she asked, “Hasn’t Kinu come back yet?”

“Even if she returns, I’ve got business here,” Matazō snapped. “Can’t you set the table alone?”

Naho retreated.

An artisan-like customer came in.

“One Asahi…”
“Please take it…”
“The change.”

“How much…”
“Five yen…”
“We’ve handed out all the thin ones, but…”
“Then there’s nothing to be done.”
(Exits)

The barber returned.

“Didn’t you find out?”

Barber: “Got it.”
Barber: “You know, when I asked at Asahi Taxi earlier—they’d taken him to Sugamo.”

“Where in Sugamo…?”
“The station, they said…”

Kinu returned.

“He isn’t here.”

“But you know, when I asked at the counter, they said that man had been resting there around noon with two companions…”
“As for the other person… he’s a young, fair-skinned man…”
“He was carrying something in a slender bag, they said…”
“And then, he wasn’t wearing a hat, with his hair all thick and unruly…”

Matazō: (Interrupting) “Then that’s him! You—isn’t that the man?”

“Yeah, that seems to be the case.”

“Idiot! You think ‘seems so’ cuts it? Get the geta! The geta… Hurry with the geta…!” he shouted, standing up and bolting to the shopfront.

Kinu hunched over to search for footwear.

The barber paced anxiously before finally slipping off his sandals. “Pop! Here! These!”

—— CURTAIN ——