Pathway to Japanese Literature

Characters:

Mother

Daughter

Time: Midday in late April

Location: Mother’s living room—a six-tatami mat room.

From the open round window at the front, a branch of leaf cherry blossoms is peeking in.

Mother is sewing.

The daughter was flipping through the pages of a magazine beside her.

——Pause.

Daughter: (raising her face with feigned innocence) "I don't care either way."

Mother: (deliberately blunt) "I don't care either."
(After a pause) "Not that it doesn't matter."
(After a pause) "If only you'd think a little..."

Daughter: "If thinking means... then I'll do as you say."

Mother: "I've no particular objections."
"But your feelings—what truly matters is..."

Daughter: ……

Daughter: …

Mother: And then his attitude... What I don’t understand is...
"They had the meeting, took a liking, decided to take you—then demand an immediate reply from our side... This way of doing things treats you far too lightly."
"It’s been nearly a month since then—you’d think he himself would have... said something about the matter by now…"
"Or has he said anything directly to you?"
"Did he do anything like trying to ask your feelings…?"

Daughter (shaking her head)

Mother: “Then what do you talk about when you’re alone together?”

“What kind of talks... We’re mostly silent.”
“But more than that—he’s strange.”
“That’s what’s odd.”

Mother: “In what way?”

“Well... when we’re alone, he’s fine.”
“Perfectly normal...”
“But when I go to his house, he suddenly changes completely.”
“When his mother or sister are nearby.”
“He acts so cold toward me.”

Mother: “In what way...?”

Daughter: “Firstly, he doesn’t speak.”
“And then, he doesn’t even look at my face.”

Mother: “Hmm.”

How should I put this…
“He acts so bored.”
“He immediately starts yawning or something…”
“Hmm.”

“The day before yesterday was just like that too. When I took him those dahlia bulbs—you know, that time when everyone was in the garden—he was the only one who didn’t even turn my way. And the things he says—the way he says them! ‘Even if I got these things, there’s nowhere to plant them’—that’s what he told me. I felt like crying.”

“He’s such a strange man,” Mother said. “But when you’re alone together, he must act differently.”

Daughter (nods)

Mother: “He probably does try to be kind.”

“He’s kind…?”

“No—doesn’t he try to humor you at least a little?”
“Humor me…?”
“In other words, shouldn’t he have said whether he likes or dislikes you?”

“He doesn’t say things like that.”
“How could he not have said anything?”
“But he doesn’t say anything...”
“Then you’re saying there’s absolutely no way forward?”

“So that’s fine.”
(She pressed her face closer to the magazine)

“What’s supposed to be good about that?”

“Even if there’s no way forward…”

Silence.

Mother: "Even if they say it's urgent, only his mother seems serious about this. If he himself acts like that, he's completely unreliable, isn't he? (Pause) Fine then. Tell me everything—exactly what he said to you."
"Word for word."
"The times you two talked alone were just once or twice... then that day before yesterday on your way home—that's all, right?"
"Now, about the first day..."

Daughter: “Wait a moment, will you? That time was only about five minutes or so… There was no time to talk.” (While thinking) “Oh right—he did say this: ‘Don’t you miss your school days?’” “Yes,” she replied—then he laughed with a ‘Hahaha—’”

Mother: “Why?”

Daughter: “Why… I don’t know… Then when I said, ‘This area feels so wonderfully quiet,’ he answered, ‘I tend to feel that way when visiting other people’s homes.’ But then… Then he asked, ‘Wouldn’t you like to turn on the radio?’ When I inquired why not, he said he didn’t want to do what everyone else does.” “A bit…” (As she spoke, she traced a swirl beside her head with her finger.)

“He might have that sort of quirk.”
“Is that all?”

“On the first day, that was all.”
“The next time was here—you see, Mother had gone out shopping.”
“He kept saying he had to leave, but stayed for two whole hours.”

“So you managed to have quite a substantial talk then.”

“That’s not really it.”
“If I don’t say something first, he just stays silent, smoking cigarette after cigarette…”
(Suppressing a laugh) “He has this one habit—like this...”
(stroking the tip of her nose with her index finger as she speaks) “If that were all he did, it’d be fine.”
“After doing that, he’d always pinch the tip of his nose like this.”

“You’re being foolish,” Mother said. “Rather than that—tell me everything he said.”

“He says this—” Daughter pressed her face closer to the magazine. “‘I don’t want to get married yet, but my old lady—you know, he calls her ‘my old lady’—my old lady keeps nagging me about it...’”

Mother: “Then you…”

Daughter: “Well, so then—in that case—I thought maybe I should say I don’t want to.”

Mother: “But just thinking about it isn’t going to help anything, is it?”
(Pause.)
(as if muttering to herself) “So it really is like that after all.”

Daughter: “Yet he asks me, ‘You must dislike men who idle around, don’t you?’ Well, I wouldn’t say I dislike them, but when I told him that someone who works and can support themselves through their own efforts seems more dependable...”

“Did he say such a thing?”

“Yes, then...”
“Then—”
“Then he’d say something like ‘Maybe I’ll find some work myself one of these days,’ not really talking to anyone in particular.”
“Seeing him like that makes it seem not entirely hopeless.”
(Extending one end of her sewing toward her daughter) “Here, hold this part for me.”
“But isn’t it strange—could he already be serious? Even before hearing our answer...”

“That’s right.”

Mother: “Did he say anything else?”

Daughter: “He asked me whether I preferred Japanese-style rooms or Western-style rooms. When I said I liked Western-style ones, he went, ‘Then maybe I’ll convert the annex into a Western-style room.’”

Mother: “No matter what he says—right? That’s just like him, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

(Pause.)

Mother: “What are we to do? There’s no one else to consult with, and above all, if you don’t stay firm, we’re in trouble.” (Pause) “If I were to accept him—no—I don’t want to.” “Unless he himself says he definitely wants to marry...” “That part remains rather unclear.”

Daughter: “That matter seems to have been left up to Mother.”

Mother: “Are you feeling reassured just by that?”

Daughter: “I don’t know whether I’m reassured or not…”

“You’re trying to put on a face that says you don’t care either way, aren’t you?”

“But I’m doing what you say is best, aren’t I?”

“You’re different.” (Pause) “That’s why—this time—ask him yourself: ‘Is it you who wants me for yourself, or your mother?’…”

“No—I won’t ask something like that.”

Silence.

“You know...”
“Aren’t you a woman too?”
“You understand what I’m saying.”
(Pause) “I won’t let you—just you—spend your life catering to some man’s whims.”
“Understand?”
“Every woman ought to meet a man who truly loves her once in her life...”
“Unless he’s a man who loves you for your own sake...” (Pause) “Let me tell you my story—I came to your father’s house at your exact age, nineteen in spring.”
“Back then, no one even imagined things like courtship before marriage.”
“They married me off in a dreamlike haze.”
“The arranged meeting... Oh, we had one, but just for show...”
“On my wedding day was when I first learned—about Father’s eye being that way on one side...”
“That alone might’ve been bearable.”
“That night, Father got drunk and ran off somewhere with his friends—what a spectacle...”
“All deliberate, you see—just for appearances...”
“A pathetic charade...”
(Pause) “And that charade lasted till the very end.”
“‘This creature means nothing to me’—he couldn’t resist showing people that side of himself. So he’d avoid speaking to me whenever others were around—no, worse—if I happened to be near, he’d say ‘Fine, fine—go over there...’”
“That’s how it was...”
“Ask him anything and he’d barely reply.”
“I too couldn’t resign myself at first.”

"It wasn’t that I had received rough treatment, nor that I had suffered unbearably painful experiences—but being like this, I couldn’t understand why I remained by the side of someone called my husband…….
I couldn’t tell how many times I had thought about returning to my parents’ home…….
But even so, I endured it in the end…
It was because you came along."

“The daughter had been like that…
I had no idea.”

“To you, even so, he was a kind father.”
“That’s why even now, I don’t think he was a bad person.”
“I just don’t want you to suffer hardships like mine—that’s all.”
(Pause) “That must be the sickness of men…”

“But that must be something from the past.”
“Men these days aren’t like that.”
“I don’t think they’re like that.”
“They’re even active—I’ve seen it myself…”

“Active… The West is all well and good.”

“It’s nice, I suppose. When treated that way, even a woman becomes sharp.”

“No—he needs to take the lead properly...”

“He said I’m just like you, Mother.”

“If you put it that way, there can be no mistake.”

The daughter fell silent.

Mother: “If I were to state my ideal—that man would come directly to me and say, ‘Please give me Mineko-san. I’ll surely make her the happiest woman in the world.’”
“He’d say.”
“Then I would say, ‘As you can see, she’s a spoiled girl who only knows how to enjoy herself,’”
“If I say that,” he responds, “I’m fully aware of it—I dislike women who are obedient like slaves.”
“If you just know how to enjoy yourself, I’ll handle the work.”
“A society where women work while men play should be cursed”—he’d say something like that.
“In that case, I might not refuse to give her if you insist to that extent, but even should I come to your household, that child remains my daughter after all, so please do not take her too far away that I cannot meet her whenever I wish.”
“If I say that,” he responds, “Of course—if it comes to that, you would be our precious mother—how could we neglect you?”
“Mineko-san will never leave your side except when taking walks with me,” he says. (Voice trembling with tears)

Daughter: “You’re unbearable, Mother.”

“Is it really so strange… to say such things?”
“Then let’s stop.”
“Let’s end this—shouldn’t we just decisively reject this marriage proposal once and for all? Hmm, wouldn’t that be best?”

“Then what would we do?”

“Let’s wait a little longer…”

Silence.

Daughter (gradually lowers her face)

“The other day, I nearly told him off...”
“What sort of reply was that?”
“When someone tries building rapport by inviting him to the theater, he claims sleeping at home would be better...”
“Yet when you think he won’t go, there he comes trailing along.”
(Pause) “And that face of his...”
“Hasn’t he once shaved his beard before visiting here?”
“Coming to a house with a young girl involved in marriage talks—even allowing some leeway—isn’t this taking people for fools?”
“Young men ought to maintain proper decorum.”
“It’s downright rude...”
“Don’t you feel anything seeing such behavior?”
“That’s why men grow complacent.”
“Enough—make your decision already...”
“I’ve had my fill of that man.”

A long silence.

“Mother… do you dislike him?”

“Mother’s feelings don’t matter—as long as you’re fine with it.”
“It don’t matter who he is.”
“If you want to go, then why don’t you just go?”

“Mother.”

A pause.

Mother seemed to be trying to calm herself, then heaved a deep sigh.

“I don’t care either way.”

“Well then, I’ll refuse,” said Mother. “Is that alright? I won’t say another word about it later.”

The daughter silently lowered her head.

“Or—” Mother continued somewhat calmly, “if there’s anything about him that could convince me—something that makes you think he’s the one—then tell me.” After a pause, she pressed further: “What exactly about him have you taken a liking to? Consider his behavior toward you or something like that…”

“Where…? There’s nothing really…”

“Well then—just tell me plainly: do you like him or dislike him? Which is it?”

Daughter (softly): “I don’t dislike him.”

A long silence.

Mother (staring at her daughter): “I see. Then doesn’t that mean you like him?”

Daughter (hiding her face with the magazine): “It’s not like I’m saying I like him or anything…”

Mother: “Well, you must like him then.”
(The ruler pressed against the tatami mat bent sharply.)

“I can’t say for sure… things like that….”

“If you can’t state that clearly, there’s no helping it.”
“You’re refusing then.”

Daughter…

“You won’t hide anything from me, right?”

“What kind of thing…?”

“If you’re not hiding anything, then that’s fine.”
(A pause) “The mere thought that your heart might already be drifting away from me because of some man like that…”
“No—you’re not such a woman with low ideals, are you?”
“If you could entrust your life to a man you believe is worthy, then I wouldn’t mind being cast aside by you from that very day.”

…
(A tear fell onto the magazine’s frontispiece.)
(She hurriedly wiped it away with her hand.)

“Why are you crying…?”
“What’s making you so sad?”
“We’re just talking now.”
(Silence) “Go close up that window.”

Daughter (went to close the window)

Mother: “Well, I didn’t phrase that well.
Come a little closer…
Things got strange partway through, but there’s more I want to ask you about in detail.
Mother would never do anything that isn’t for your sake, so you must tell me everything truthfully, alright?
Even if there are things you don’t understand, there are things Mother does.
On the other hand, since you know things Mother doesn’t, we won’t understand anything unless we discuss them thoroughly—isn’t that right? (Pause) However—generally speaking—when a man brings up this kind of talk to a woman, it’s precisely when he’s trying hardest to make her think well of him...
But if you’re already dissatisfied with his approach from that point onward, when will that dissatisfaction ever be satisfied going forward…?
Isn’t that right?”

“Dissatisfaction… It’s just that he only acts coldly when he’s nearby…”
“Because he must be embarrassed…”

“If you put it that way, then that’s all there is to it.”
“Well then, where’s the proof that he cares for you?”
“Regarding such things, did he say anything to you?”
“Did he ever say anything like—if we could be together we’d be happy, or that he’d cherish you forever—anything of that sort?”

“Well…he never says things like that at all.”

“Then what does he say? Ah yes—the night before last when he walked you home—what did you talk about then?”

“He said… as long as we believe in each other, there’s nothing we need to fear…”

“When was that…?”

“On the way he walked me home…”

Mother: “What did he say then…? What were you talking about up until then…?”

“I don’t remember well, but we were still talking about such things…. And then he said I’d never make a proper bride or anything…”

Mother: “Why…?”

“He said I seemed pitiful…”

Mother: “…?”

“He said it’s a waste to make me do all sorts of things… That’s why I told him I handle all sorts of tasks at home. When I did, he said it’s different from our household’s tasks…”

Mother (shook her head). “I don’t understand at all…”
“Your conversation…”

Silence.

“I’m not that opposed… if it’s him…”

Mother: “Oh wait…
“Tell me more about various things.
“Then what did you talk about? Describe everything that happened after leaving their house in detail.”

Daughter: “When his mother told him ‘You should escort her home,’ he made such a strange face—like he wanted both to cry and laugh…”

Mother: (Laughs)

Daughter: “I didn’t feel sorry for him at all.”
“But when we went outside, he wasn’t like that.”
“It must have been getting dark already…”
“On that cherry tree avenue leading to the train station—you know—the blossoms had all scattered.”
“But look—under those tunnel-like fresh green leaves, you know—when we walked there, he said, ‘I wish we could stay here like this forever’…”
(Pause) “It was beyond strange…”

Mother: “And then…”

Daughter: “I didn’t say anything.”
(Clutching her mother’s shoulder) “It must’ve been about to turn pitch black.”
“I was beside myself.”
“And he walked so slowly…”
“While taking deep breaths or something…”

Mother: (Mimicking taking a deep breath) “...You mean like this?”

“Yes.”
“Before long, it finally got dark.”
“The station lights were still visible in the distance.”
“Even so, there were still some people around…”
(Pause) “Whenever there were puddles or stones, he’d say that and warn me.”
“He thinks I’m a child.”

…

“But…”
(Pause) “He absolutely wouldn’t let anyone else buy the tickets.”
(Pause) “That’s just sly…”

“Is that all? What about what happened along the way…?”

“Yes, that’s all…”
“Ah.”
“And then, he came without wearing a hat…”
“And then, when I bowed and said goodbye, he tried to take off his hat.”
“Then… you know, he must’ve felt awkward—he ran off… I tell you.”

“He didn’t have to run away.”
“Strange, isn’t it.”

“He has those tendencies… I tell you.”
“I understand perfectly well.”

“But shouldn’t he have said something kind during that walk—something that would make you happy?”
“Rather than that, shouldn’t he first and foremost be trying to understand your feelings?”
“He doesn’t even attempt to broach such topics, does he.”

(Daughter nods)

Mother: "Walking together like that on a quiet path—it must have been enjoyable. Or at least seemed so."

Daughter (shook her body as if saying "I don’t know")

Mother: "Then what was it? At some moment... did he... take your... hand or something like that? He must have done at least that much."

Daughter (Shakes her head)

Mother: “Tell me the truth.”
“Then I can fully grasp his true intentions...”
“Because I can tell whether he truly cares for you...”
“Come now—he must have held your hand, even just a little...”
(Her voice trembles slightly)

Daughter (shakes her head weakly)

Mother: “Mother won’t get angry about such things.
“It would rather put my mind at ease…
“Come now—tell me—then your hands did touch at some point, didn’t they…?”

Daughter (nods resolutely and presses her face against her mother’s chest without hesitation)

“That must be it—that must be it,” Mother said, her voice catching. “And then... did you do something...?”
(Her tone grew unintentionally sharp) “Did you just stay silent when he did that...? Did you let him do whatever he wanted?”

Daughter slid closer across the tatami.

Mother roughly pushed her away. “Oh, you foolish girl...”

“It’s a lie!” Daughter clung to Mother’s knees, the words bursting forth. “What just happened—all of it—a lie!”

(Pause)

Mother: (Avoiding her daughter’s gaze) Don’t lie to me.

Daughter: (In a tearful voice) “No… It’s a lie…”
“That was… you know….”

Mother: (Suddenly pulling her daughter onto her lap as if embracing her) “There, there… It’s alright…”
Mother says nothing more….
“That wasn’t my intention… I tell you.”
“What was I supposed to do…?”
“Look, Mother had intended from the start to have you with him… to bring the two of you together….”
(She is crying)

Daughter: (Burying her face in her mother’s chest) “Mother…”

“It’s fine, it’s fine—there’s nothing to worry about…”
“Come now, go over there and fix your face…”

Daughter sobbed.

(Pause)

“Mother was wrong.”
“Please forgive me…”
“There now—Mother will fix it for you.”
(She stood up and went to the vanity) “Come here and look.”

Daughter obediently stood and walked over.
But when she took the brush from Mother’s hand, she kept applying face powder to it endlessly.

Mother watched her daughter’s actions for a while, then abruptly averted her gaze, rose somewhat roughly from her seat, pulled the round window fully open, slumped against it with one elbow propped, and sat there.
(Of course, she had her back turned to her daughter.)

Daughter fixedly stared at the mirror during this time.

A long silence.

Mother: “You should’ve learned something by now...”
“Didn’t he say he likes shamisen?”

Daughter: ...

Mother: “Really—why’s he been dawdling all this time... You haven’t even gone to flower arrangement lately...”

Daughter: ...

Mother: “You claim to hate needlework...”
(Pause) Ugh—this dreadful mugginess today...
(Pause) That caterpillar...

Daughter quietly begins fixing her face.

Mother: “The ceremony will be this autumn then…”
“Or perhaps they want it done immediately…”
“Autumn would still be preferable… If timing matters little…”
“And your bridal trip—Kyoto?”
“Though Izu’s hot springs might suit better…”
“I visited Atami once myself… In my girlhood… With your grandfather…”
“Though truly—any place would serve…”
“Somewhere quiet…”
“Yet too much solitude might prove trying… Just you two alone…”
“…To tell truth—how splendid if you could journey West while at it… Does he truly lack English?”

“It’s German, you know.”

“Oh… Ah… Right—it’s German law…
“Germany’s fine too….”
(Pause) I wonder if I should go too….
Will he take me along…?
(Pause) If Kenji graduates and goes off to France alone, I wonder… should I go with him….
While it’s fine for a couple to go abroad together, wouldn’t it also be good for parent and child to do so in their own way…
The idea of a mother accompanying her son to study abroad—people wouldn’t find that strange, would they?
Even if it’s ridiculous, that’s fine.
If only Kenji wouldn’t find it a bother….
(Pause) Ahh... For Mother to go off to Paris—has the world really changed so much already…?
She looked back toward her daughter.
The daughter was still facing the mirror, meticulously reapplying her makeup.
(And at times, pausing her hands to gaze at her own reflection) “You—how about that powder on your collar… The way you’re applying it….”

“But it doesn’t spread well, you know….”

“It’s too thick—for one thing…”

“That’s a lie—it’s not like that…”
(adjusting it as she speaks)

Mother: “Nineteen...”
“You must steady yourself...”
(Silence) “You from now on... I... I too...”
(Sighs heavily)

Daughter: …

Mother (forlornly): “When will we ever say ‘this is secure’...”

Daughter: “Me...?”

Mother (weakly): "That's right…"
(Pause) This won't do—this won't do at all…
When everything still lies ahead…

Daughter (quietly stood up and remained standing behind her mother)

Mother (sensing the presence of someone approaching from behind, subtly turned uneasy eyes in that direction)

(Silence)

Daughter (as if remembering, covers her face with her sleeve.
And then suddenly collapses in tears at her mother's side)

―Curtain―