Pathway to Japanese Literature

Grass Heat Haze

When they had chartered fishing boats and returned from an excursion to the XX River where young sweetfish could be caught—taking three or four people from their group of six or seven XX Society members to Iko’s suburban house—even the gloomy rainy-season sky that had drizzled intermittently during their ayu fishing now showed breaks in the clouds, with refreshing starlight glimmering through.

At that time, Iko had withdrawn from her convalescent retreat and acquired a quiet hideaway there.
The eight-mat room in the rear—fragrant with wood, high-ceilinged, its tokonoma alcoves and staggered shelves built with unpretentious antique charm—had pleased Sugita ever since Iko first invited him there recently.
It was a house that F-san—the dance instructor for Iko’s child—had found in an inconspicuous location so Sugita could visit occasionally with work.
Naturally, F-san’s consideration in choosing a spot near her own home arose from concern for Iko’s devotion to motherhood.

Away from the main road, at the top of a four or five ken slope that rose sharply at one’s toes, there stood a gate where tree shadows pooled thickly. Ascending from the entrance hall and proceeding down the corridor that ran past the reception room with its wicker chairs, one would emerge onto the veranda surrounding the tatami room. K-kun, M-kun, and Noko-san—having wearied their bodies from a day of refined recreation—rested upon zabuton cushions arranged around a small dining table, adding sugar to their tea, smoking tobacco, and plucking loquats.

“It’s lovely. Not pretentious at all.”
Noko-san was surveying the interior.

“No, but doesn’t Y-san live in such a splendid modern cultural residence?”

Iko was extremely delighted that her friends had come, tidying up here and there, having the sweetfish they’d brought as gifts in baskets delivered to F-san, instructing the young Western-style painter K-kun—who had been minding the house—to prepare some quick makeshift dinner bowls, and bustling about restlessly.

“I chased after those modern styles too, but I still think Japanese taste is best,” she said, slightly relaxing her knees in Western dress as she demurely exhaled tobacco smoke. “I’ve even been considering moving into town.”

Soon the meal began amid lively banter.

On the veranda, shadows from recently planted trees layered thickly, their leaves glistening where fragments of electric lamplight fell through the overlapping darkness.

Everyone found their conversation so engaging that they felt unsatisfied to part as they were.

“I want to go somewhere... for a second gathering—”
Noko-san proposed.

“Let’s go somewhere.”
Iko said, her face lighting up as if flushed.

“Let’s go to my place.”
Sugita suggested.

“Teacher’s house is somewhere we can go anytime—how dull.”
“I want to see all sorts of places.”
“I hear Teacher once took M and N-san into Yoshiwara.”

“Well...
“I wouldn’t say I went there often—before the earthquake I did go two or three times with M-kun、N-kun、and T-kun、the three of us—to listen to elderly geishas’ songs and such.”
“But nowadays I don’t know any teahouses there anymore.”

“I want you to take me there once.”
When Noko-san said this, Iko chimed in—

“I adore listening to kouta. Since there’s nowhere nearby to hear proper performances, I sometimes visit yose theaters to listen to artists like Kaga Suzusu.”

“Is she any good?”

“She’s marvelous. Don’t you agree, Teacher?—People who master one art always carry themselves with such decisive poise. Whether it’s music or dance, witnessing true excellence always stirs something within me. I do long to hear a proper song. Surely some of these modern women must have visited Yoshiwara.”

"If it's a teahouse... Well, I couldn't handle that."

"If only M·N-san had come today."
"They’re wealthy."

"It would be nice if we had them treat us next time."

"Oh, absolutely!"
"Right, Iko-san!"

"Oh, if it's them, they'll definitely treat us."

“If they want to subject us to shoddy songs, fine.”
“But in return, we don’t have to stay over.”

“Fine, we can stay over.”

“But the ayu…”

“They’ll be fine for one night.”
Iko said.

M-kun and K-kun began to leave.

“Well then, please take this basket over to my house and have the children eat them.”
Sugita asked K-kun, who usually stayed at his house.

“I’ll return right away.”
K-kun said this and, following M-kun, stood up from his seat.

While Sugita and Noko waited in the darkness at the foot of the slope, gazing up at the sky where stars shed their damp light through gaps in the rain clouds, Iko finished locking all the doors and came through the landlord’s garden from the rear entrance.
The white tips of tabi socks and a fragrant facial outline drew near.

“I wonder if it’ll rain.”
Sugita—wearing an expression that seemed burdened by some guilt—swung his walking stick and looked up at the sky once more.

Their destination wasn’t particularly the sort of place that would invite social censure.
It did have mineral springs and such, but if one considered carrying boxes there troublesome, then troublesome it was.
When at Iko’s house, he always felt somehow unsettled.
When in Sugita’s study, Iko felt a deeper melancholy than what he experienced at her house.
The two somehow yearned for a secret world belonging to neither.
That such a world should also feel disquieting to them was inevitable.
The place Sugita now tried taking Noko and Y-san to was likewise nothing more than that sort of house.
Sugita and Iko had recently written and read there on two or three occasions.
The maids regarded Iko—as innocent as a child yet lively as a boy—with warm fondness.
Had their lives been able to settle anywhere—had even the narrowest room become theirs for quiet writing and reading—the atmosphere of mineral spring inns would never have held any appeal.

“Once in a while is fine.”

“Right.”

“But there aren’t many geisha who sing particularly well. And since we can’t do it ourselves, it takes real effort to have them sing properly.”

“The garden is spacious, and the house is large and quiet, so it’s perfect for studying.”
Iko also said.

“Yes, anything’s fine.”

The house neither adopted the cramped downtown style nor was as vulgar as ordinary suburban hot spring inns.

"It's just that I can't seem to go on any long trips," Sugita muttered.

"I suppose so."

The taxi slid into the gate within less than thirty minutes; when it stopped at the entrance encircled by a privacy hedge, two or three maids welcomed Iko with beaming kindness upon seeing her alight from the car after Sugita.

The three turned down the long corridor two or three times and were shown to a tea-hued room at the far end facing a spacious flat garden.

Sugita always stomped up noisily while feeling awkward, but since everyone understood he came to work, he felt relatively at ease.

“It’s nice here.”
“I wonder if I should come here to write too.”
Y·Noko was looking around the room.

“You should do that.
It’s quiet and nice here.
There are so many bush clovers and hibiscus—Teacher, the trees have grown quite thickly.”

“That’s right. Though it would be nicer with a moon.”

After drinking a cup of tea, the three of them went to take a bath together.
When a pale delicate figure and a slightly sallow, frail-looking one—both women of nearly identical height with bobbed hair—descended to the bath area chatting cheerfully about something, Sugita, who had stripped naked first, was turning the faucet to fill the bath with water.
And by the time Sugita had soaked once and moved to the washing area, the two finally came in.

“Once you cut your hair, it becomes so convenient you can’t bear to grow it out again,” Iko said. “When I think about how I used to tie up my hair, it feels utterly depressing.”

“That’s right.”

“Y-san has really settled into her role lately. The way they handle hairstyling here works out so perfectly.” She demonstrated by sweeping her hand from one temple to her hairline.

“Right,” Noko replied without interest.

“Will you go to that hot spring in Shinshu again this summer?”

Sugita asked Y-san.
Now that summer was growing more pronounced with each passing day, concerns about securing a summer retreat for the children had suddenly begun pressing on her mind.

“Actually, I think I’ll choose Karuizawa this time.”

“How stylish.”

“It’s not like that’s the reason, but… lately living has become quite a struggle. When summer comes, even we want to escape to resorts like everyone else.”

“True enough. But you’re fortunate being alone, Y-san. Unlike me—my past marriage still haunts me in ways—”

“But isn’t that preferable? Weren’t you staying in Zushi until recently?”

“I was unwell then. And I wanted to escape city distractions to study properly. Raising children alone makes everything harder still. A teacher’s household with many mouths brings its own complications too.”

“Iko is being unfair. S, S is such a poor thing.”

S—S was Sugita’s penname.

Iko’s eyes took on a look of mild surprise, innocent as a bird.

“Why?”

“Why… you ask?”

Sugita could only think Y-san was referring to the recent love affair involving Iko—who had once been his—and thus, being fully aware of her feelings and the surrounding circumstances, he felt a faint ache in his chest.

Iko made no attempt to offer an explanation.
When retracing the sorrowful worries that had plagued her during that period, her chest filled with something that defied brief explanation.

Sugita, who had gone ahead upstairs, was smoking in his room with a refreshed mood when the two soon followed up. However, Iko sat before the dressing table in the next room applying her makeup.

“Want some beer?”
Sugita asked Noko.

“Oh, I’ll drink some.”
“I wonder if I should have some sake.”
“What about you, Teacher?”

“I could drink a little sake too.”

“What about you, Iko-san?”

“I can’t.”
“If I drink even a sip, I get dizzy.”

Noko had something she couldn't say unless drunk.

“Let’s listen to some songs.”
“I wonder if there’s someone here from Yoshiwara.”

“I suppose so.”

When the drinking had just begun, the woman arrived.
With large, bright eyes and lustrous hair, she was twenty-two or twenty-three years old—the most beautiful among those present.
She played the shamisen skillfully and with ease.

With a bright, clear voice, she sang a few short pieces.

“I’ve been thinking I’d like to learn a little myself.”
“I’ve done a bit of it before.”
Before Noko, who was saying such things, the second sake flask was placed.

“Right.”
“When did you take lessons?”

“Oh, it’s not what you’d call proper lessons, but…”
“Since Teacher has these sorts of interests too, I think it’d be nice if I could manage a little.”
“But rather than that kind of thing, I still say you’d do better to properly study novels.”
“Come now—let’s hear it.”
“That’s right—exactly what bourgeois wives do.”

“It must be nice to live idly as a bourgeois wife, but even so, one can’t survive on such emptiness.”

Both Iko and Noko—regardless of whether they had romantic involvements past or present—had been born as the type of women who couldn’t live relying solely on men or material things. And given their path in life, they did not look down upon geisha.

“I’ll perform nagauta.”
Noko turned to face the geisha when the second flask was nearly empty, sitting up straight and placing both hands on her knees.
The geisha looked at her with slight bewilderment.

“Kanjinchō.”

“Don’t overdo it.”

Noko was neither carried away by excitement nor sinking into melancholy—let alone anything further removed from that state.
She drank quietly with the same naturalness as when sipping coffee at a café.
Then, following the strings’ lead, she began singing in a faint voice.
Though her voice faltered at times, she kept going anyway, matching the geisha’s rhythm.

“It’s no good—I’ve forgotten it all. Aren’t you going to sing, S?”

“Teacher has a deep voice, you know.”

“Right.”

“Iko, why don’t we do Oiwake?”

“I can’t.”

The geisha was eventually led away. According to what the maid later recounted, she had been one of a certain famous banker’s mistresses, but with his bank recently going bankrupt, it seemed she was about to be cast aside.

“May I have another?”
Y and Noko requested the third flask.

“You’re really going at it tonight.”

“It’s special—I’d kept myself dry for so long...”

“Teacher, isn’t it improper to speak of fruit that way?”

“Loquats?”

“Anything’s fine.”

“Iko needs to confide in me more.”
Noko began to speak with glazed eyes.

“But Y-san, wasn’t it quite ironic for me? Even when I try to be kind, I’m always mean-spirited.”
Iko smiled a crimson smile and ate loquats.

There were also cases like Iko’s.
Until Iko fell into her current relationship with S, it wouldn’t have been contradictory to say that Noko too had liked Iko.

“No matter who I am, if it’s someone S loves, I would gladly join hands and move forward with them. I certainly don’t harbor any ill will toward Iko. It’s Iko’s fault. If you ask me to help, I’ll always be your ally.” Noko wasn’t excited, but she was growing a bit heated.

“I understand that.”

“S, S— is my great benefactor. If S— hadn’t been here, who knows what would have become of Noko’s existence as a writer by now.” Noko’s tone had grown somewhat more vehement.

Sugita felt an unsettling discomfort—or perhaps it was that Noko's genuine feelings had broken through her shell, he thought.

"Don't be absurd."
Sugita covered it up with a laugh.

"What exactly do you think I've done for Y and Noko?"
"I've merely fulfilled my duty as a judge, that's all."

“S, S— may have merely fulfilled your responsibility, but to me you’re my great benefactor.”
Noko’s tongue seemed to be slightly slurring.
“I don’t want to be an ungrateful person.”
“No matter what happens, I want to offer gratitude where gratitude’s due.”
“Just as I·K― worships Master O·K― like some divine being—that’s how I want to revere you.”
“If it’s something Teacher loves, then as Teacher’s lover I still want to stand by it.”
“So yes—I might’ve acted sarcastic toward you face-to-face sometimes, Iko-san...but I never did anything vile like Z and H-ko whispering poison behind people’s backs.”

“Did Z and H-ko-san really say such terrible things?”

“They did.”

“I understand that too.”
“Even at the gathering at Teacher’s house, that person recklessly confronted me.”
“Even O-san felt sympathy for me.”
“It all started because everyone praised my kimono.”
Iko made a ticklish-looking face,

“Because I somehow got frightened, I left my seat.”

“Back then it was like that too… but now I think it’s all right to say.”
“I never once blindly followed along with that.”
“But you’re also at fault, Iko.”
“I’ve been visiting S, S—’s house for quite a long time, you know.”

“I understand that too.”
“I read your debut work during my girls’ school days.”
Iko said.

“If only Iko-san had confided in me even once—after all, I was your senior—I would never have done anything to harm you.”
“Why, even I—if there were someone like Iko-san around—who knows how carefree I could feel visiting Teacher’s place?”
“That sour-faced S— over there may be in a bind, but if it were you, Iko-san, you could simply say you’ll treat him to meals whenever and make everything pleasant!”
“If you ever face something beyond your means, just tell me—there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“Yes! Just having you say that makes me grateful enough.”

“I may be powerless and useless now when it comes to novels—but I’ll study hard and become more skilled. Then I’ll be able to lift up your position too, you know.”

“Yes, indeed!”

Sugita felt ashamed of his own feelings and attitudes—the vague evasiveness he’d always maintained toward those around him—as he faced Noko’s tender emotions toward Iko that persisted even tonight, her drunken hand stubbornly refusing to release the sake cup.
His own trivial work rose before him like an indictment.

“I was discovered as a writer by S, S— over ten years ago, you know. I still carefully preserve those critiques from back then… Though I can’t say it was solely due to S—, when I later heard from someone at the publishing company that he’d deliberately inflated my scores precisely because ‘there was no one else to choose,’ I can’t tell you how grateful I felt.”

“U and I-san’s scores were low, you see.”
“I thought that person was too busy and hadn’t read everything, you see.”
“Otherwise, that kind of scoring approach wouldn’t exist.”
“That was good.”

Sugita recalled that time, and at the same moment, the fresh, delicate characters and scenes from the work emerged vividly before him.

“I absolutely adore that heroine.”

“Her kimono was green, wasn’t it.”

“At any rate, when your wife passed away, someone like me should have rushed over sooner.”
“When I went there, Mr. and Mrs. Z—especially Mrs. H—acted all high and mighty as if I was handling everything.”

“Well, I had something else I needed to ask Z-kun specifically, so I sent him a telegram—which naturally served as notification too.”
“From my perspective, having others work for me feels like an imposition...”

"Our Teacher is always like that."
"That’s what’s unbearable about it, you know."
"It’s not at all like what Teacher thinks, you know."
“In times like that, anyone would want to have someone do a bit of work for them, you know.”

“Maybe so.”

“That’s absolutely right.”
“Hey, Y-san!”

“That’s exactly how it is!”
Noko also nodded.

“What a blessing.”

“There seem to have been quite all sorts of things going on.”

“I had no idea at all.”

“Even someone like me—on the day of that funeral, when T-san came and said, ‘Since it would be better for a woman to read a eulogy too, Y-san, you should do it,’ you know.”
“I also thought it would be fine for me to read, but when I glanced to the side, Oko-san seemed to be making a strange face.”
“Since she’s older, I told Oko-san, ‘You should read it,’ you know.”
“In the end, that person ended up doing it—not that it’s out of vanity or anything—and while it was fine that she did, I can’t help thinking I might have been better suited.”

“That’s exactly how it is!”
“Is that so?”

“That’s how it truly is，Teacher.”
“It’s not at all like what you think，Teacher.”
Iko also put force behind her words.

“However, I do think that was Oko-san’s masterpiece.”

"That's right."
Noko echoed the sentiment.

Iko had not yet stopped serving alcohol.
In a thin, wavering voice, with a slightly slurred tongue, her words continued endlessly without pause.

In another spacious room, even after entering the mosquito net, Noko's monologue showed no signs of ceasing.
The fifth tokkuri remained brought to the bedside, yet ultimately none could bring themselves to reach for it.

Iko lay in the middle, with Noko and Sugita sleeping at both ends.

The rain lashed against the garden trees and eaves with a relentless roar.
Thunder rumbled closer.
Outside had unknowingly descended into violent turmoil.

"Iko-san, you really mustn’t hurry things."
"That’s right, S—I mustn’t keep burdening you like this. I’ll study relentlessly from now on and become formidable."
"Once I do, I’ll lend you my strength too, and we’ll all write something magnificent together."

"I truly want to create something magnificent!"
Iko chimed in.

A thunderclap that seemed to split the eardrums exploded nearby once again.

After a short while, Noko unsteadily stood up and exited the mosquito net.

"I drank too much!"

"What's wrong?"

"I feel a bit sick."

"Right! It's fine!"

Iko said that and crawled out of the mosquito net to follow after her.

She seemed to have vomited a little but immediately came back into the mosquito net.

“Alcohol is terrifying!”
Noko muttered.

“You should quit drinking.”

“Oh, I haven’t had anything to drink lately, though…”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Let me cool your head for you.”
Iko said that and came back with a wrung-out hand towel.

Sugita also left the room, passed through the long corridor, and went to check the kitchen area.
Two night watchers were present.
He sought ice, but the refrigerator was locked.

“I wonder if there’s any medicine—either Hinton or Seishindan.”

“I’m not sure.”

Helplessly, Sugita turned back.

Iko was stroking Noko.
Noko seemed to have fallen fitfully asleep, but before long she got up again and went to the lavatory.

The next morning, it was around nine o'clock when they left their futons and bathed.

A light drizzle was falling on the garden's fresh green leaves.
Before long, breakfast was served, but Y and Noko did not eat.
Then they phoned their cohabiting friend M-ko-san.

Everyone was sleep-deprived and foggy-headed.

“I’ll take my leave. I might come here to study sometime.”
Noko was sitting on the veranda chair.

“Do come visit. We’ll come again too. Teacher particularly favors this place.”

“Because I can’t leave the house unattended to go far away.”

The clouds parted, and a faint sun began to shine.

Noko soon left.
It was because M-ko-san would be going to school, so the house would be empty.

“Do come in. We’ll return together.”

“Thank you.”
“See you again.”

After seeing him off, Iko returned to her room and sat briefly before the mirror, positioning her face.

“It’s so hard—having to return to this lonely suburban house now.”
“Living really is quite difficult.”
“I suppose someone like me has what you’d call happiness.”

Sugita smiled forlornly.

"But last night's Noko was lovely, wasn't she?"

“That’s how everyone thinks.”

And she, as if buoyant,

“This cloudy sky isn’t so bad either—let’s go out to the garden.”
Iko invited him with a rising lilt.

They crossed the wet stepping stones and wandered among maples and Chinese parasol trees.
Azaleas lingered in bloom beneath discarded rocks.

Around their feet treading the lawn rose faint miasmic warmth from the grass, while the rainy season’s clearing breeze brushed their skin—leaving Sugita with desolation’s touch.

“Heh heh heh.”
Iko began whistling like a schoolboy.

(October 1927 [Showa 2], "Shincho")