Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

“Hey, you went to the Third Tori no Ichi the other day, didn’t you?…” “Bluntly,” I said, and looked at Osawa’s face.

“Yes, I went… How did you know?” …… With that, Osawa’s large eyes widened sharply. “And what’s more—in broad daylight, swaggering around with some man…” With that, I pressed further.

“Oh, you knew all along, didn’t you?”

and those sharply widened eyes, honestly just as they were,

“That’s strange.”

and then shifted them toward me once more.

“It’s not strange at all—... You’re the one who’s strange—” “Did you see me somewhere—you?” ……

"I suppose so… Probably…" "You say you can’t do anything bad—that’s really true, right? But where… Where did you see me walking?" "More importantly—what the heck was that?—" "That…?" "That man—."

“Ah—that?” “Wearing a mask bigger than his face, you see. If he’s that worried about being seen, why bother dragging some woman through crowded daylight streets pretending to be respectable?” “Exactly… I thought the same thing—even I…”

“Then why didn’t you stop him?” “…How undignified…” “Because he isn’t someone that important, you know.” “He isn’t someone that important?” “That’s right.” “Even though he isn’t someone that important—you…” “…With such a man—carry on like that?” …

“Yes, that’s right… I was lonely being alone, so when I casually asked him on a whim, he came along right away—that man…” With that, Osawa said breezily, “I did tell you once before, didn’t I? That even after the war ended, I still remained evacuated out in the countryside of Jōshū (Gunma Prefecture) all that time? …Even throughout all that time, I never missed a single year of attending the Tori no Ichi festival.”

“So you’re saying that every year, you deliberately came all the way from the countryside of Jōshū (Gunma Prefecture) to Tokyo just for that?”

“Yes, that’s right…” “Why on earth are you so devoted to Tori no Ichi?” …… “It’s not devotion—I just like it.” “Do I like it?”

“That’s right… I do like the Tori no Ichi—it’s just…” But liking it…

Wasn't it strange?... Yes, it was strange... unless I gave a reason...

And then, nodding to herself, "I, you know… …Actually, believe it or not, I was born in Yoshiwara." "Yoshiwara?" "You didn’t know, did you?" "That’s the first I’ve heard of it." "Because I hardly ever tell anyone about that, you know…" "Why’s that?"

“It’s just too sad to talk about that…”

Having said that, she appeared to gently lower her eyes—or so it seemed—

—Hm-hm-hmm…

Suddenly, Osawa burst into laughter as though something were genuinely amusing.

“Hey—a mask bigger than his face… You’ve got quite a way with words, you know… It really was true—that mask was bigger than his face…”

II "What nonsense…" I deliberately made a sour face.

“Who ever heard of someone cutting off their own story midstream?”

A mask larger than his face. ……That’s exactly how it was… But I couldn’t manage to say it so clearly…

And Osawa wouldn’t have it unless she laughed once more.

“Just when we were finally getting to a solemn conversation—why did you suddenly bring up such a trivial thing?”

And so it was that I found myself pitying that face.

“What a strange woman you are…”

And Osawa—

“Right? It’s strange, isn’t it? …Even I really think so myself, sometimes…”

And Osawa immediately responded to that,

"But you see—just when you think a crow’s begun crying, it’s already laughing again." "...I can’t help but wonder..."

"If I just keep saying it myself, there's nothing to worry about... But really—why does this happen?... Even now, when I start saying those things—how sad it makes me—the moment I speak them, somehow I truly do grow sad, so much that tears nearly spring to my eyes... And then, right at that moment, I suddenly recalled what you said about the mask... And then—ah!—all at once this time, I found myself amused, so terribly amused. ......In other words... am I just made to be that carefree, I wonder?......"

"Indeed—this must be why they call me fickle—in other words..." "No, that’s... That can’t be right—to be labeled a fickle woman..." "But when they speak of Ms. Osawa of Akasaka—ah, that..." "They’re all saying I’m fickle... even strangers from distant provinces I’ve never met..." "—So that’s how it was." "...Why must people spin such baseless tales? ...One person starts something—knowing nothing about it—and the rest just follow." "...When did I ever do anything—where or what?" "......"

“Well… fine then, that…” “It can’t be helped, you know.” “Well then—I’ll set that matter aside for proper examination later—for now, let me press onward with this tale of being born in Yoshiwara.” “It’s okay—if I work through it this much, I won’t get sad anymore…” “No good—even if you bring it up so suddenly.” “……Once you’re jostled around like this, a tangled thread—where does it even begin…”

“I get it—I understand,” I said. “Alright then, I’ll take on the announcer role and ask you all sorts of questions from my side. You respond to that… That should work, no…?” “Ask your questions cleverly…” “If I manage to pull it off cleverly—applause, if you please.” I paused meaningfully. “…Do you know about this?” “Isn’t that Li Cai?” “Admirable!” I wanted to retort—but knowing about that Chinese magic act’s stage would give away your age, wouldn’t it?

“So what if it’s known? I don’t mind.” “…Anyway, I’ll be forty-six next year.” “…because now at last the shadow of fifty’s slope had come flickering right before my eyes…”

“What’s this—you’re already that age? ……” “What’s this—you should’ve said I was still young enough for such things.” “Let’s stop this comedy routine already.” …It’s utterly charmless… “Why am I so cursed with bashfulness, I wonder?”

“So—born in Yoshiwara?” I hurriedly covered Osawa’s mouth—instead of saying, “Why must you always torment yourself like this?”… “Yes—born in Yoshiwara, raised in Yoshiwara.” Yet Osawa abruptly rode the wave of my invitation.

“Our family ran a teahouse in Nakanocho that served as an intermediary, so…”

“So how did you end up living in Akasaka and Yoshichō afterward?” “Our house was destroyed in the Great Earthquake—my parents lost—left all alone—tricked by wicked relatives—forced into becoming a geisha…” She had gotten that far when suddenly— “How absurd... Let’s stop this already—this interview charade...”

Osawa made a face as if she couldn’t even laugh. “But the house being destroyed in the Great Kanto Earthquake is one thing…”

I said. "And losing your parents—was that also…? …" "Because of the earthquake… They drowned themselves in Hanazono Pond in the red-light district. It was terrible—they say it was as many as the number of people who died there… The whole family fled together, but we got separated along the way. By chance, I ran in another direction and survived…" "So it wasn’t just Father and Mother—the rest of the household too?" ……

“That’s not exactly the case… There was one person—Toshie, a maid who was close to me… She survived too because she didn’t enter Hanazono Pond.” “How old were you back then?” “—Me?” “……I was fourteen.” “…My freshman year at girls’ school… With pigtails—they were so cute, you know.” “Did the teahouse daughter go to girls’ school?” ……

“I did go… Why do you ask?” …… “But doesn’t that seem mismatched? A girls’ school in Yoshiwara?” …

“You don’t understand... The more respectable families in those quarters are oddly particular about things like their children’s education.” “Especially my father—he was stricter than most upstanding folks. He wouldn’t even look kindly on me being friends with Toshie there.” “…For one thing, he seemed to think that running a teahouse was something only for his own generation—that you couldn’t keep it going forever, nor could you expect to keep it going into the future.” “…Which meant a place like Yoshiwara would vanish someday.” “…To do that, he’d thoroughly educate his daughter and marry her off to a respectable household…”

“So he was an intellectual, in today’s terms…”

“That’s right.” “Why, he even served as a ward council member in Asakusa once or twice, you know.” So not the daughter of a sushi shop owner, but a ward council member’s daughter? “And what of that daughter? From the spring of her fifteenth year to this very day in her forties—thirty years she’s spent as a geisha all along.” “……How absurd.” “If I’d known it would come to this, I should have died back then in Hanazono Pond with my parents.” “……I should have done that…”

“It can’t necessarily be said so definitively.” “……There must have been times when you thought it was good to be alive, right?” “Well, you know—over those long thirty years, there were two or three times.” “……But now that I look back, they were all dreams… Like the moon reflected in water…” But if you put it that way—isn’t everyone like that? “……A human life—from the very start—is arranged that way……”

“But what’s frustrating is that there are people in this world who aren’t like that… Take that Toshie person I just mentioned, you know?”

“Yeah.” “This person here—she’s someone who profoundly felt life was worth living… It’s precisely because she didn’t die back then… Because she survived that she could attain such happy days…” “Are you still involved with that person now?”

“I evacuated to where this person had been evacuated, relying on this person… Since we’re far apart, we rarely meet, but we’re always exchanging letters.” “Where’s she now?”

“Kamakura.” “What’s she doing?”

“She got married and is doing just fine.” “……You don’t know Shiba Shirahame—the painter?” …… “Shiba Shirahame?” “I know it—the name.” “He used to be a Western-style painter among the likes of Ryūsei Kishida, but now he paints nothing but Japanese-style works…”

“She’s that person’s wife now—Toshie…”

III

Even as she said they rarely met—quickly adding “Though this sounds odd” with flustered excuses—Osawa then revealed she had actually visited Toshie in Kamakura four or five days prior and, persuaded to stay, had even spent the night there. She went on to extol in meticulous detail how wonderfully harmonious Toshie and her husband were, and how quietly, peacefully settled the atmosphere of their household felt—citing example after example. ……Among these recollections, what particularly struck me was how one evening while dinner was being prepared, Toshie and her husband Mr. Shirahame had taken Osawa out for a stroll to a spot where they could see the sea……Toshie’s house was in Zaimokuza; if you followed the narrow sandy path from there, the sea was barely a block away.

“Ah!” I exclaimed and stopped in my tracks without thinking...

And with that, Osawa somewhat dramatically arched her chest.

“Why?”

And, of course, I laughed.

“Because, you see—the color of those sea waves.” “It wasn’t just blue... It was navy.” “...so startling, so indescribable—that incredible navy...”

So then—by that time—the sun must have already set.

“But the sky was still bright… Precisely because of that… perhaps it stood out all the more strikingly.” “……The moment I did, I remembered.”

“What?”

“The sea prop from that ‘stage combat’ scene in Kumagaya’s play…”

No—when it comes to Nicho-machi-trained actors, what they say is...

The Taisho era’s two young actors named Kikugorō and Kichiemon. The so-called Ichimura-za era, driven by their popularity, was also a golden age for each of Tokyo’s pleasure quarters—Shinbashi, Akasaka, Yoshicho, Yanagibashi. Osawa’s offhand remark about that “stage combat” sea unexpectedly made me recall the warm human connections of Tokyo in the old days, from when automobiles were still a rare sight.

And then, when the three of them returned home, the tearoom already blazed with a light so bright it dazzled the eyes. Not only was the large low dining table overflowing with an abundance of dishes, but in the pot hanging over the meticulously stacked fire in the long hibachi, oden—visibly appetizing—simmered with a gentle bubbling.

And when she heard that—apart from the tai sashimi delivered from the fishmonger among all those dishes—everything else had been prepared by the kitchen maid alone, Osawa’s astonishment knew no bounds…… “Well, it’s nothing special, but…” With that, Mr. Shirahame himself poured a smooth stream from the copper pot and offered, “Here, have one…”

“This oden alone holds some pride in our household…” he said. “It’s true… Truly…” And Toshie echoed his sentiment.

“What would you like?” “……I’ll get it for you……”

“Well then, the tendon and tofu…”

“How about the daikon?” “……It’s well-cooked……” “I’ll take some gradually.”

Indeed, it lived up to being boasted about. ……The moment she put a bite in her mouth, she understood. “My, this is splendid… This flavor isn’t ordinary at all…”

Osawa said this neither as flattery nor in jest. To such an extent—truly—was Osawa impressed by that vegetable stew, one she normally disliked and had never before eaten.

“Go ahead—feel free to help yourself to the other dishes too…”

With that, Mr. Shirahame took up the smooth pour and filled Osawa’s sake cup to the brim.

“No, thank you.” “I couldn’t possibly.” “Oh, it’s fine… After this, all we’ll do tonight is go to bed anyway…” “You mustn’t be shy, Ms. Osawa…” And Toshie chimed in.

“I won’t hold back.”

And Osawa retorted defiantly.

Thus did the intimate gathering of just the three continue until past nine o'clock.

The more Mr. Shirahame drank, the better his mood became. The brightness of Toshie’s face as she occasionally admonished him yet never tried to forcibly bring things to a close… This—this was it—it had to be this…

No sooner had she thought this than Osawa felt her chest suddenly tighten. ……What was it—this, this was it, it had to be this—she herself didn’t quite understand……

The next morning, Osawa—notorious for sleeping in—awoke before eight o'clock to her own astonishment. Yet by then, Toshie had already been bustling about the kitchen with an apron tied around her waist. Mr. Shirahame stood in the garden teasing the dog.

Perhaps due to the wind, the sound of the waves that hadn’t been audible yesterday could now be heard.

“Good morning.”

With that, Osawa somewhat awkwardly planted her knees on the veranda. “Good morning…”

With that, Mr. Shirahame said in a lively voice,

“It’s lovely weather…… Today’s Third Tori no Ichi will be quite splendid…”

he had remarked unprompted...

IV

“What—so that’s how you realized it was the Third Tori no Ichi that day…” I deliberately said in a teasing tone. “Oh, that’s not it at all.” Osawa maintained her straight face. “I couldn’t linger—had to hurry back. If I’d dawdled, I might have missed my chance to return again. That’s all I thought. Because everywhere was drenched in sunlight—so utterly peaceful…” “And then?…”

“Well.” “But… still, what with one thing and another, it ended up being past noon.” “Where did you meet the Masked Teacher after that?”

“In the train…”

“So you mean, on the way back?” “……”

“Yes, that’s right—the Yokosuka Line’s…” “Of course, he’s a customer you’ve known from before?” “…”

“Yes, I’ve known that for two or three years now.” “…But he’s just some company’s executive—truth be told, I don’t even know his name well… Since other people kept calling him ‘Mr. Shii,’ I just ended up joining in with their ‘Mr. Shii’ this and ‘Mr. Shii’ that…” “Such nonsense…” “It’s strange that it exists… I sing utazawa, and occasionally get asked to accompany him… He does have a nice voice.” “……He’s got a certain… professional flair……”

“Was it he who found you, or did you call out to him?” “Both.” “…Both at the same time.” “…When I let out an ‘Oh!’ without thinking, the other person also went ‘Ah!’” “…Well, partly because it was a nearly empty train—everything so deserted—so we both realized right away, me and him… When I asked, he’d boarded from Zushi, he said…”

“Well, since it was empty, I went over and sat beside him as a matter of common courtesy. “……‘What lovely weather we’re having,’ you were the one who said it first……” “Well answered…” “When a woman speaks to a man, he won’t stay silent… At the very least, he must’ve replied with something like ‘You’re right’ or ‘Indeed.’… Especially if the fellow had an affinity for arts like utazawa—before you knew it, the conversation would flow from one thing to another: the glow of a cigarette on a snowy morning, a cup of tea to ward off the cold, escalating to a shared drink…”

“What’s that?” “Doesn’t Akuya from ‘Koto Zeme’ say it?” “You’re quite the know-it-all, aren’t you…”

“Evading won’t work, you know.” “…It must be so, I tell you…”

“That’s right, exactly…… As we kept talking, I gradually found myself growing fond of him.” “……Somehow, I felt it would be wrong to part ways right then and there, so I tried saying, ‘Why don’t we go to Tori no Ichi?’…… When I did… he said, ‘Sure, that’d be fine.’……” “Well, of course!” “……Even if they call me a flirt, there’s no helping it……” “It’s not an affair or anything—just a spur-of-the-moment thing, really…”

“Affairs are spur-of-the-moment things—that’s been the going rate since olden times.”

“Oh, but that—” “But when they’re walking side by side like that with the man wearing a mask, people will inevitably assume there’s something between those two… Now suppose it were the woman wearing one instead? …Mightn’t that make it seem less indecent somehow?” Why?

“There’s no particular reason why—just a feeling,” I mused. “At the very least, people might not take them for a proper husband and wife—or maybe they would.” “Do you think so?” “So what happened after that? Where did you go?” “We went to Kanda and ate chicken, I tell you.” “And then?”

“We went our separate ways—right and left—and then…” Did he really agree to that—the man? “There was no question of him agreeing or not. ...Because I was the one who paid for our meal in Kanda, you see.” “Even though he’s an executive?”

“Even if he’s an executive or whatever—wasn’t I the one who invited him?”

“But still—how’d she make him pay without a word?” “Well, these days he’s just an executive in name only on his business card—such things don’t faze him, I tell you. On the contrary, he probably thought I was the one leading him on… Oh no, truth be told, I actually thought he was a bit more put-together at first—back when we were on the train.” “…And then, when we got off, he immediately put on that mask, right?” “…So when I got disappointed all at once, we went ahead to Kanda anyway—but that blockhead didn’t even know what kind of place Kanda’s famous for… Then I realized—if I just sang utazawa, sticking to what I’d practiced, that’d be good enough… I shouldn’t say this in front of you, but back when I was in Kanda, all that hardship… the taste of chicken… none of it made sense… Last night’s oden was delicious… but then—oh, it’s no good.” “…It seeped in—how sad I felt, not having a dwelling place for my heart…”

V

——Well, then…

As I—with the third sake bottle now somewhat emptied— “Why don’t we eat something? ……Talking’s made me hungry…”

I said to Osawa. “What shall I prepare?”

And Osawa raised her downcast eyes from the hibachi. “Anything’s fine.” “Well then, something for the hot pot…”

“That’s fine too… The night before last was oden, last night chicken… Then tonight as well, keeping to the sequence…” “Let’s have chiri—chiri…”

And with that quick decision, Osawa stood up. “Why not? You didn’t have to get up yourself…” On her way out—incidentally—she paused briefly to make a phone call… “Where to?” “Home.”

Osawa opened the sliding door and quietly left. In her retreating figure, one could sense the form of a geisha from twenty or thirty years prior, her kimono trailing.

Suddenly, a fierce wind shook the garden trees and passed.

*A dwelling place for her heart…*

I tried mouthing Osawa’s just-spoken words to myself.

What the—but she…

Thinking this, I set down the sake cup I had unconsciously raised to my lips.

Outside, a lovely moon…

And before long, Osawa returned carrying a new sake bottle. “It’s been such a stretch of fine weather.” “Really.” “But once the Third Tori no Ichi passes, I’m actually glad—everything’s completely winter now.” “Do you like winter, then?”

…… “I love it…”

And Osawa poured from the new bottle of hotly warmed sake for me.

“Hey.”

As she poured for me, I continued. "Next year—how about we go together?"

——Where to? ——To Tori no Ichi.

——Yes, let’s go. ——We’ll pass the time at Matsubaya or somewhere like that, then head off cheerfully to the evening Tori no Ichi. ——I don’t want that…

“Why?” “I… I absolutely have to go during daylight for the Third Tori no Ichi—otherwise it’s no good…” “You say that—but what if there’s no Third Tori no Ichi next year?” ……

“Then we’ll just go to the Second Tori no Ichi.” “……Either way, I hate the First Tori no Ichi—it’s just too crowded……”

“What’s the reason it has to be daytime?” “When I walk through those daytime crowds, I get this nostalgic feeling like my dead father and mother might suddenly pop out from somewhere.” “I see. Then let’s make it daytime.” “In exchange, I’ll wear a mask.” “Who will?” “I will.” “What for?” “For your sake.”

With that, Osawa smiled, showing her beautiful teeth, and laughed, “I’ll be your wife for a day—just for you.” “To be your wife?” …… “Didn’t you just say that if the woman wears a mask, people won’t gossip about us being a proper couple…?” ——Ah, that’s it…

“In exchange—you’ll properly settle Kanda’s bill on our way back…”

Six

……However, Osawa died before that year’s Tori no Ichi Festival came around.……It’s a story from two or three years ago. Lofty pathos in the month of the Third Tori no Ichi If some say my verse casts the shadow of longing for Osawa, I would never deny it……

Even if there were those who claimed the shadow of my yearning for Osawa fell upon this haiku of mine, I would never deny it…

("Chūō Kōron" [Central Review] January 1956)