Pathway to Japanese Literature

First Failure

“Zuiryu, you wouldn’t have any intention of becoming an adopted son-in-law, would you?
“It depends on the match of course, but Zuimyoji Temple would be ideal, wouldn’t it?”

And my elder brother grinned and broached the subject.
“So it’s come,” I thought.
The heiress of Zuimyoji Temple, Miss Nishiko, was rather a beauty.
Now, not to boast, but I myself enjoyed considerable renown as an academic prodigy.
This area—called Temple Town—had about a dozen temples lining its streets, making everyone thoroughly acquainted with one another.
Since I was a middle school boy and she attended girls’ school, we never shared intimate meetings—though I did once try teasing her on the road.

“Excuse me… You dropped a handkerchief.”

When we passed each other on our way home from school, I called out to her. Miss Nishiko turned around but, realizing it was a lie,

“Well! Delinquent! No way!”

With that, she left. Since then whenever she spotted me, she would pass by as if whistling nonchalantly.

Now，onto the issue of being taken as an adopted son-in-law to Miss Nishiko’s household.

“Today Mr.Tokoji came by and—since we’re well acquainted with each other’s backgrounds—said he thinks it makes for an excellent marriage proposal，” he said.

My elder brother hurled his words as if expecting my unconditional consent.

“If I go to Zuimyoji Temple，I’ll end up taking over the temple，won’t I?”

“That’s only natural.”
“Because that’s what the adoption is for.”
“I hate being a priest.”

“Hey! What do you mean by ‘priest’?”

“I hate priests.”

“Are you still making selfish demands without understanding a thing?”

“……”

As this exchange makes clear, my household was a temple.
However, I had already declared that I did not want to become a priest.
In response to this, my elder brother had been telling me to reconsider, saying that becoming a priest was the most reliable path.
I did have a particular ambition.
I wanted to go to university, study law, and become a government official.

“Then what will you do?”

“I want to go to university.”

“However, I can’t provide the tuition.
As you well know, our home is a poor temple.”

“………”

“If you become an adopted son at Zuimyoji Temple, they’ll have you attend university.”
“Law’s out of the question, but study philosophy and you could become a teacher.”
“A government school teacher counts as an official too!”

“Are they saying they’d send me to Imperial University?”

“They’ll give you proper training.”
“They’re keen on you after hearing about your grades—I’ll handle the details.”

“Could I study something besides philosophy?”

“Naturally.”
“Since you’re taking over the temple, your philosophy must be Eastern philosophy.”

“If I take over the temple, wouldn’t I be able to become a professor?”

“That might be a bit of a stretch. If you were to become an outstanding scholar, well—that’s another matter. But from the outset…”

“……”

“Our family is poor.
Even if I wanted to pay your tuition, I can’t wave sleeves I don’t have.
You’ve got to understand—there’s absolutely no way you’ll advance to higher education through this household.”

“I see…”

I was quite swayed.
At any rate, being able to go to Imperial University had been a great ray of hope.
Then when I thought about becoming husband and wife with Miss Nishiko, I felt unreasonably happy.
Being a priest wasn't all that bad after all.
First off, there was plenty of free time.
And yet there were absolutely no employment difficulties.
Everything related to food and provisions was guaranteed.
Observing my elder brother's lifestyle—he drank sake, sang songs, ate tonkatsu, even went to the movies with his wife—
There was absolutely no difference from laypeople.
I listed the good points of being a priest and, since both my elder brothers were doing it, thought I might as well give it a try.

Whether it was the next day or the day after that, on my way home from school, I happened to pass by Miss Nishiko.
Miss Nishiko did not act nonchalantly as she usually did; instead, she turned bright red, stopped in her tracks, bowed politely, and went on her way.
At that moment, I solidified my resolve.

"Alright! I’ll go become an adopted son-in-law at Zuimyoji Temple and turn myself into a renowned wise priest!"

When I returned home, eager to share the news with my elder brother right away, there was already a guest visiting.
It was Mr. Matsumoto, the wealthiest temple parishioner.
I also went out to greet them and sat down.

“I hear Mr. Zuiryu’s school grades are exceptionally good.”
“He looks every bit the academic prodigy just by appearance.”
“This is too good for a priest.”

With that, Mr. Matsumoto praised me.
Since I was classmates with Mr. Matsumoto’s son Fusakichi-kun, I had often gone to their house to play.

“That’s harsh.”
“Does that mean only the dim-witted ones become priests?”
And my elder brother lodged a protest.

“Ha ha ha!”
“This was a major blunder.”

Amidst such joking conversation, when I stated my aspiration to study in Tokyo,

“Mr. Zuiryu, when you graduate from middle school, please come consult with me.”
“It’s not entirely impossible to work something out.”

said the chief patron, Mr. Matsumoto.

“Thank you very much.”

“I’m planning to send my own son to Tokyo anyway,”

“But…”

“No need for such hesitation.
“I’ll help you work it out.”
“Therefore, please graduate at the top of your class.”

“If I graduate at the top, will you send me to Tokyo?”

And I pressed for confirmation.

“I’ll make it happen for you.
“I can’t bear to force someone completely innocent into becoming a priest like that.”

And Mr. Matsumoto teased my elder brother again.

“No matter what Your Reverence may say,” my brother responded with uncharacteristic restraint, “I won’t raise objections now.” His tone shifted as he turned to me: “Zuiryu! With Mr. Matsumoto’s backing, you’ll have an unshakable foundation! Give it everything!”

Knowing my long-cherished hopes, my brother rejoiced for me.

I abandoned the resolve I’d only just hardened.
However regrettable losing Miss Nishiko might be, I couldn’t trade her for my life’s guiding principle.
Through my brother’s mediation, I declined Zuimyoji Temple’s offer.
As fate would have it, our neighbor Izawa Shokaku eventually filled that vacancy.
Shokaku had been my closest companion since we’d played at knights astride bamboo steeds—a boy of exceptionally sweet disposition.
True to our childhood nickname “bamboo-horse friends,” he once split his groin tumbling from those very stilts.
The ensuing rumor of him retaining only one family jewel persisted until I demanded proof—at which he obligingly demonstrated both remained intact.
Thus prepared,

"You! Be my witness."

And so he made the request.
Since I had always been Shokaku-bou’s guarantor – we’d been classmates in elementary school before splitting into middle school and commercial school after graduation – Mr. Shokaku had entered commercial school declaring temples were too poor to live off, so he’d become a businessman to earn money instead.
He too hated priests,
“When I whacked Amida Buddha with my accounting rod, he went ‘clang!’”

He said such irreverent things.
And yet, when talk of Miss Nishiko began, there was no arguing.
When I refused, it seems an offer came shortly after,

“You see, I’ve had a revelation—I’m going to become a priest after all.”
“I’m going to Zuimyoji Temple as an adopted son.”

he reported.

“What was this revelation of yours?”

“I saw a dream of the ten trillion Buddha-lands and achieved great enlightenment in a flash!”
“When one child enters the priesthood, their nine clans are reborn in heaven—it’s said to be magnificent.”
“I’ll gladly become the sacrifice.”

“Doesn’t that sacrifice come with a little bonus?”

“Huh?”

“Wouldn’t it be more about Miss Nishiko than your nine clans?”

“Don’t say that.
Heh heh…”

“Well, congratulations.”

And I patted him on the back.
Shokaku-bou’s spirit had slackened so much that his head slumped with a heavy thud.

There are those who, like Priest Saigyo, take monastic vows upon sensing the impermanence of this fleeting world, and those who, like Shokaku-bou, switch from commercial school to priesthood after being lured by a beautiful bride.
In my gut, I scoffed at such things—thinking enlightenment would amount to little even if achieved—but before long, I found myself envying Shokaku’s circumstances.
Mr. Matsumoto, our major patron we had been relying on, had died.
Though I had graduated at the top, I couldn’t go explain that it had actually been a promise to receive tuition funding from the master.
I regretted that I shouldn’t have been the one to refuse Zuimyoji Temple.

"This was a real problem."
"Even if I were to become an adopted son-in-law, there were no good prospects at this point."

The Exuberant Mizudori-kai

I was in a daze, but through a timely expedient, I mustered my resolve and reformed my plans.
In that case, I’ll do it on my own.
I thought heaven’s will was at work there.
When I went to consult the middle school principal, he introduced me to the prefectural office.
There happened to be a vacancy, and I was hired as a temporary employee with a monthly salary of 35 yen.
It would be around 5,000 yen now, but this was ten years ago.
Instead of sending me living expenses, my elder brother told me to save the money, with my sister-in-law’s understanding.
If I worked for four or five years, I could save up the tuition to go to Tokyo.
It was an ambitious plan to attend night university and take the Higher Civil Service Examination.

"Even if everything proceeds normally, higher school and university would take six years. Since this path is a roundabout one, it’ll require a bit more effort. As long as I pass the exam by thirty, that’ll suffice."

And so I resolved to proceed without haste or faltering.

There were two young colleagues with similar plans. One was my senior from middle school, Mr. Ozaki, and the other was Mr. Kurosu, who had graduated from commercial school that year. Like iron filings drawn to a magnet, we three swiftly became comrades who bared our souls to each other.

We often took walks after leaving the office. Since we finished work at four o'clock, even when we debated at length, the sun wouldn't set. Once out of every three times, we shared dinner at a kitsune udon shop.

“How about it?”
“Why don’t we call our trio’s group the Seiunkai?”
“A society reaching for the heavens.”

The eldest and de facto leader of the group, Mr. Ozaki, proposed this while gazing up at the sky during their walk.

“Sounds good.”

I agreed, but Mr. Kurosu had a different idea.

"The Seiunkai is fine, but isn't it a bit tacky?"

"Since it's about lofty aspirations, it shouldn't be tacky."

"Well, it's too blunt."
"I want something more metaphorical."

"So do you have some idea in mind?"

"How about Mizudori-kai?"
"Waterfowl may appear carefree as they float, but their feet are constantly paddling."
"We may saunter around chattering idly like this, but our minds are ceaselessly churning with ambitions of rising in the world."

“I see.”

“That’s precisely why we call it the Mizudori-kai.”

“Clever.”
“This works well.”

Mr. Ozaki and I agreed, and the group’s name was settled as the Mizudori-kai.
That evening, we ate tempura rice bowls as our inaugural ceremony.

The walks that had been canceled due to summer’s heat remained suspended even when autumn arrived. Perhaps it was because the rains kept lingering. When winter came, we began visiting Mr. Ozaki’s house instead. His place stood conveniently between my home and Mr. Kurosu’s, making it an ideal meeting spot. We still talked of rising in the world as always. Then one evening, Mr. Ozaki and Mr. Kurosu came together to visit me.

“Mr. Izawa’s house is in that direction, isn’t it?”

asked Mr. Kurosu.
Mr. Kurosu had been classmates with Shokaku at commercial school.

“This way.”
“He’s been officially adopted and is attending Tokyo Buddhist University.”

“It seems you told him about me—he sent me a letter from Tokyo.”

“He comes to my place often too.”
“That must have been quite a letter, huh?”

“I was shocked.
“It’s Miss Nishiko!”
“He seems to be exchanging letters with that person every day.”

“He wrote that they exchanged one letter a day.”
“You’ll get swamped.”

“Are you some kind of love rival?”

“That’s not it. I was the one who refused.”

“He’s utterly shameless about it. ‘The bond between Miss Nishiko and I - were we in heaven, we’d be lovebirds sharing wings; on earth, twin trees with entwined roots.’ Flowery enough, but half the characters were made-up.”

“You mean this troublemaker here?”

With that, Mr. Ozaki tapped his own head with his fingers and leaned forward.
Mr. Ozaki happened to be a parishioner of Zuimyoji Temple.

“He’s not exactly bad, but he’s a panicker.
“During exams, he’d raise his hand and ask, ‘Teacher, is cheating allowed?’—that’s the sort he was.”

“What an idiot.”

“The agreement was to use borrowing a knife as the signal for sharing answers.”
“So when he asked to borrow a knife, he ended up blurting out ‘cheating’ instead.”

“Ha ha ha!”

“That was practically a confession.”
“The teacher was furious.”
“Don’t think you can make a fool of me!”

“Was he actually cheating?”

“Well, he’s unexpectedly honest. He comes prepared intending to cheat, but he lacks the nerve. But thanks to that, his grades were always solidly average.”

“What do you mean by ‘thanks to’?”

“Thanks to preparing cheat sheets, he ends up memorizing things quite well.”

“I’ve always thought—if he put all that effort he spends making cheat sheets into actual studying, he’d be more than prepared.”

“That’s the thing. Mr. Izawa can’t study unless he feels like cheating. He says straightforward studying lacks tension and won’t stick in his head.”

“He’s a strange fellow.”

“In other words, without the morbid thrill of cheating as stimulation, it seems he can’t get serious.”
“It’s an odd quirk, but since he was making effective use of it, I’d say he’s not someone you can dismiss lightly.”

“Is his behavior all right?”
“It’s probably that quirky charm of his.”
“My bad.”

“Because he’s a prankster, you see. He meant no harm, but the teacher was always glaring at him.”
“Now that you mention it, he was always up to something.”

I recalled.

“Because you’re my close friend.”

“He comes to my place and reports each failure one by one.”
“He’s got quite the curiosity, hasn’t he?”
“He wants to try anything that’s forbidden.”
“You once reported that last night you went scouting out a café, only to end up getting thoroughly scrutinized yourself.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I went to that long-coveted café, you see.”

“However, school students wouldn’t be admitted.”

“I thought about that part and disguised myself as the young master of a shop to get in.”
“I had one accomplice.”

“That would be you, wouldn’t it?”

Mr. Kurosu nailed it perfectly.

“Ha ha ha!”

“Look.”

“In that case, we’ll confess two things.
We conspired together, lined our pockets a bit, and set out.
Having heard you were supposed to tip waitresses, we handed them two fifty-sen silver coins as soon as we entered.
One each—since there were two waitresses.”

“Stingy, huh?”

“No—we kept handing over one coin each every ten minutes.
But this turned out to be a mistake.”

“Tips are supposed to be given afterward, aren’t they?”

“That’s why, you see. We ended up being seen as complete greenhorns.”

“Hey, aren’t you all junior high or commercial school students?” she asked.
We were startled and exchanged looks.
“If they found out, we’d be expelled.”

“What did you answer?”

“Putting on a bold front with ‘Don’t talk nonsense!’, we handed over another fifty sen.”
“Hey, aren’t you all coming back from a funeral? And you reek of incense!” said another waitress.
“We exchanged looks again and handed over another fifty sen.”

“Ha ha ha!”

“Then another one said, ‘Hey, you,’ and grabbed my hand.”
“The pretty one.”

“Look, you’re drooling.”
“No shame at all!”

“Hey, you—you all aren’t from a temple, are you?” she said.
“Don’t talk nonsense!” “But every fifty-sen silver coin you’ve given us has clumps of rice grains stuck to it.”
“You’ve been pinching temple donations and peeling them off, haven’t you?’ she hit right on the mark.”

“Ha ha ha!”

“I told you, ‘This is where the filthy lot comes—it’s no place for monks or students to come barging in, so scram!’ But you didn’t give back any of the tips.”

“Well, obviously!”

“Thinking to make our escape while there was still daylight underfoot, we fled straightaway.”

“Look at you! Ha ha ha!”

“If a monk ends up getting lectured by a waitress, that’s beyond redemption.”

Mr. Ozaki sighed.

“It was originally Mr. Shokaku’s doing.”
“Since he’s such a madcap, anything you undertake with him spirals into pure absurdity.”

“Do you really think you can take over Zuimyoji Temple acting like that?”

“Because I’m clever, I’ll manage to finesse it somehow.”

“Well, even I am a temple parishioner, so in the end, I’ll have to get Mr. Shokaku to administer my last rites.”

“I see.”

“If it’s a madcap like that, they might very well mix up hell and paradise.”

“This is exhilarating! Ha ha ha!”
“Lovebirds can’t keep their heads above water.”

Mr. Ozaki was a man who relished morbid jokes.
That night, this became the trigger, and strangely, talk of death continued.

The Second Failure

The Mizudori-kai lasted one year.
Mr. Kurosu contracted pleurisy and resigned after an extended leave of absence.
We feared he might die, but fortunately his condition improved.
Still, returning to work proved no simple matter.
Mr. Ozaki and I would occasionally visit to lift his spirits.

Naturally, I would visit Mr. Ozaki, and we often talked face-to-face.
The mother and younger sister Miss Machiko both welcomed me.
Miss Machiko became a fifth-year student at the girls’ school and grew into such a beauty that she was almost unrecognizable.
I began to wonder—was I particularly susceptible to women?—for each time we met, I found myself drawn in.
When I went over, Miss Machiko would always serve me tea.
On one occasion, Mr. Ozaki, Miss Machiko, and I went out to see a movie.
Miss Machiko sat sandwiched between us and talked only to me.

When I recalled her face, the surroundings would brighten as though cherry blossoms had bloomed. I felt inexplicably happy, and my heart pounded. I thought that must be what love was. I came to think that if I could have Miss Machiko, I would be happy. However, for the time being, there was nothing I could do. This was something for after I passed the Higher Civil Service Examination, but if we could set a promise now and have her wait, I wondered how much encouragement that would bring. I had been thinking of looking for an opportunity to plead with Mr. Ozaki, but he remained single-mindedly focused on his studies.

“You—right now, there’s nothing but breaking through the Higher Civil Service Examination.”
“The path is singular.”
“Because that path continues all the way to the Prime Minister’s residence—shouldn’t you be grateful?”

he said.
Even as I was on the verge of giving up on becoming a prefectural governor, he’s under the impression I could become prime minister.
Since he had this streak of grandiose delusion, I held back, sensing he wouldn’t sympathize with matters of love.

Yet my longing for Miss Machiko grew stronger by the day.
When I conjured her face, everything around me brightened as if blanketed in blossoms.
Drawn unconsciously, my feet kept carrying me to Mr. Ozaki’s home.
Mr. Ozaki remained unmarried of course, but as family head now, his responsibilities multiplied.
Sometimes guests would arrive during my visits, forcing him to excuse himself.
Those moments became treasures—Miss Machiko would keep me company then.
I came wanting to see his sister more than her brother.
This wasn’t proper conduct, but there was no helping it.

“Miss Machiko, you’ll be going off to be married before long, won’t you?”

I asked.

“Oh! You horrid Mr. Kinoshita!”

“Why?”

“I’m not going off to be married or anything.”

“But next year, you’ll be graduating, won’t you?”

“Is it decided that one must go off to be married upon graduating?”

“Because that’s the going rate in society.”

“Calling it a ‘going rate’ is so rude!”

“So you won’t be going?”

“Yes.
“I’ll stay by my brother’s side until he passes the Higher Civil Service Examination.”

“If it takes five or six years, you’ll turn into an old woman.”

“I wouldn’t mind even if I turned thirty or forty.”

I interpreted Miss Machiko’s exaggeration as benevolent intent.
By extension, it seemed to mean she would wait for me for years on end.
Thinking she’d surely accept such an arrangement, I drafted a proposal letter.
This was no lighthearted affair.
The letter read as stiffly formal as a graded ethics exam.
When next I had occasion, I purchased a women’s magazine and went to their house,

“Please take a look at this.”

Saying this, I handed it over.
Of course, I had placed the letter inside.
This was the scheme I had painstakingly devised over several days.
I couldn’t possibly hand over just the letter exposed like that.

For two or three days, I refrained from visiting and waited for a reply, but there was no word.
So I went out again, but Mr. Ozaki was holding firm and didn’t provide an opportunity.
When I visited nearly every day, around the third evening, Mr. Ozaki went out for a haircut and was said to be returning soon.
As I went up and was speaking,

“Miss Machiko, have you read my composition from the other day?”

I asked, as if joking.

“……”

“Miss Machiko.”

“Yes…”

“How about it?”

“I did write a reply, but…”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“But I held back.”

“Why?”

“Your name is Kinoshita Zuiryu, isn’t it? It sounds like a monk’s name and makes all the romantic mood disappear, don’t you think?”

“……”

“I even wrote the address, but then I found myself at a loss. I... you... it’s not that I dislike you at all, but...”

At that moment, Mr. Ozaki had already returned.
That fellow was—for some reason—in a foul mood.
It was the next morning.
When we met at the office, he immediately grabbed my arm and pulled me into the hallway.

“You sending a love letter to my sister—isn’t that utterly inappropriate?”

“It’s not exactly what you’d call a love letter.”

“No—I read it.”
“In short, it’s just trivial nonsense written pompously.”

“……”

“Is this really the time to be thinking about anything besides advancing your career?”

“To some extent, it can’t be helped.”
“I’m only human after all.”

“I refuse.”
“My sister says she can’t stand zubo types.”

“What do you mean by ‘zubo’?”

“It means ‘monk’.”

“How rude!”

“Who’s being rude here?
“Since you’ll interfere with my sister’s marriage arrangements, I ask that you never show yourself here again.”

“Fine by me.”

“It’ll be trouble even if you just speak when passing her on the street.”

“Rest assured.
“I won’t be any bother.”

When I returned home that day, there was a letter from Miss Machiko in the mail.

"Oh my, what a hasty scribble this is.
Please forgive me.

I don’t dislike you, but I can’t stand your monk-like name.
Mr. Zuiryu isn’t romantic at all.
Please change it to Ryutaro or something like that.
But since my brother has gotten so angry, it’s no good now.
Please make up with my brother.
My brother only cares about getting ahead in his career—it’s such a problem.
If you do not come, this letter will be my last."
Respectfully,

Unfortunate Maiden

I rushed to Mr. Kurosu’s place to seek advice.
It was right after Mr. Ozaki had stopped by on his way back from the office.
I heard he had denounced me as a traitor who betrayed the spirit of the Mizudori-kai.
I tried to appease Mr. Ozaki for Miss Machiko’s sake, but he was such a stubborn man that even a lever couldn’t budge him.
And so, it ended up taking the form of a complete severance of relations.

Third Time's the Charm

In the midst of spending dreary days after falling out with a close friend, Mr. Matsumoto came to visit and brought up a matter.
He was the son of Mr. Matsumoto who had said he would send me to Tokyo.
Since he was a parishioner and we had been middle school classmates, there were still occasional chances for us to meet after that.

“Would you come work at my shop?”
“This time, though small, we’ve reorganized as a proper company and expanded, so we’ll manage somehow.”

“Well…”

“I want you to come even if I have to force you.”
“Actually, I had to take over after my father’s sudden death without even going to higher school, and I’ve been in a complete frenzy until recently.”
“I’ve finally gotten things in order, so I came to discuss it.”
“Didn’t my father make some sort of promise to you?”

“Hmm.”

“It’s too late for regrets now, but I want to make good use of you as a way of honoring my father’s wishes.”
“Moreover, since we’re old acquaintances, I know your capabilities and character well.”
“If you’ll pardon my asking, how much are you making at the prefectural office now?”

“I started at thirty-five yen, got one raise, and now it’s forty.”

“Then come work for me at a hundred yen.”

“What?”

“I’ll pay a hundred yen, so let’s agree not to argue about it.”

“Well, allow me a couple of days to think it over.”

I made a show of reluctance when I said that, but my decision had already been made.

Shortly after transferring to Mr. Matsumoto’s company, I was ordered to go on a business trip to the mountains.
Since it was a lumber company, there were sawmills scattered through the mountains.
I would make rounds through those areas and seldom returned to the village.
It was a form of banishment.
With this treatment—Mr. Matsumoto was supposed to improve my conditions.
They say three years on a stone, but five years in the mountains became an unexpected training for me.
Having abandoned other concerns, I devoted myself to studying lumber itself.
There is a field of study for everything.
If there were such a thing as lumber science, I would be one of its authorities.
At the company too I became an indispensable asset, but then a three-year blank followed.
I had been conscripted for the war.
However, as for where I went and what I did, I no longer have the courage to write about them in detail.

When I returned after war’s end and looked around, Mr. Ozaki had died in battle.
Mr. Kurosu’s chest illness had worsened beyond remedy until he too departed this world.
Mr. Matsumoto had also come back unharmed but found himself unable to restart his business for now—so he put me forward for recommendation at our Tokyo parent company.
Since then matters have proceeded without a hitch.

When I think of the two from the Mizudori-kai, I am struck by a profound sense of the poverty inherent in dying.

In an economics book I had read during my prefectural office days, there was a line of reasoning that once food and clothing were secured and life stabilized, one would start wanting a wife. I had a monthly salary of fifteen thousand yen and, as a thirty-year-old young man, was in a fortunate position. Having grown accustomed to life in Tokyo by then, I found myself drawn to her being a classmate of a colleague’s wife. Whenever I recalled her features, my mood would brighten as if cherry blossoms had bloomed.

When I thought about it properly, there had been three women who led me astray up to that point. The first was Miss Nishiko of Zuimyo-ji Temple. This opportunity had come within reach, but because I refused to become a priest, I ended up letting it slip through my fingers entirely. Incidentally—Mr. Shōkaku remained safe and had taken over Zuimyo-ji Temple by then anyway. The second was Mr. Ozaki’s younger sister Miss Machiko here too we’d felt mutual affection—but just as her side hesitated this time around due to my monkish-sounding name—some obstruction arose and that became the end of things entirely—The third was Ms Masuyama Sumiko—Our relationship began when we happened across each other at my colleague Mr Kawai’s house—She was from an old-money family in Tsuyama Banshū—a Mejiro Women’s University graduate—

“She was supposed to return to her hometown already, but decided to arrange a marriage while she’s here and is staying at her aunt’s place.”
“If you propose, it’ll definitely work out.”

Mr. Kawai proposed this arrangement.
Ms. Sumiko was not only a classmate of Mrs. Kawai’s but also shared her hometown and neighboring family home, making them as close as sisters.

"But as you know, I've only finished middle school."
"A women's university graduate would be beyond my capabilities."

“What’s that? I only went to technical school too, but I’m handling it just fine.”

“Doesn’t seem too impressive, does it?”

“I’m handling it pretty well.”

“I’ll admit that much, but...”

“Shall I bring it up first?”

“No, I don’t want to propose carelessly and end up humiliated.”

Beyond having only graduated from middle school, I worried about my family being temple custodians.
Women notice everything.
Though I doubted incense scent still lingered on me after all this time, there was no guarantee she wouldn’t sense something.
I neglected to mention earlier that I’d since changed my name to Ryunosuke.
As Kinoshita Ryunosuke, even if people saw me as some samurai type, none would suspect a priest.
They say it scores decently in name divination too.

Since Mr. Kawai invited me, I always went to visit on Sundays.
Miss Sumiko usually came as well.
There were times when Miss Sumiko and I went on suburban walks with the Kawai couple.

“How about it?”
“Shall I have my wife broach the subject?”
“It’s all right now. We’re confident we’ll never let you be embarrassed.”

Then one day, Mr. Kawai brought me into the company’s reception room and pressed his case.

“Please handle this. But if things take a bad turn, do wrap it up promptly.”

“You turn strangely timid when it comes to proposals, don’t you? For someone who cracks jokes whenever we meet...”

“Well, I’m just a country bumpkin who crawled out of the mountains.”

“She’s from Tsuyama in Banshu too, you know. I went there—it’s quite mountainous itself.”

“After five years in a lumber hut, I’d hate for anyone to say I reek of sawdust.”

The joke left me uneasy—an unpleasant convergence of memories. Lower-grade incense, I’d heard, gets mixed with sawdust during production.

“It’s fine.”
“If you propose, it’ll be settled in a snap.”
“They’re waiting on their end.”

“Really?”

“I think that’s how it is.”

“If it’s just your assumption, I can’t feel secure.”

“Would you kindly tell me about your circumstances? If I clearly understand what sort of family standing you have, it’ll make negotiations smoother.”

“There’s no lineage to speak of.”
“We’re farmers.”
“My household...”

“Are they still at it?”

“No, we’ve washed our hands of that.”

“What does your brother do now?”

“He serves on the town’s health committee.”

“Health committee member and...”

Mr. Kawai produced his notebook and started writing,

“But your occupation?”
“What line of work are you in?”

“We’re landowners.
We parcel out the land into small lots for leasing.”

Because I'm honest, even my lies retain their truthfulness.
A graveyard is precisely something that divides land into small plots to rent out.

“Not farmland, but residential plots, right?”

“Hmm. It’s a quiet residential area right in town.”

“Registered domicile?”

“Yamagata Prefecture, Sakata City, Teramachi 108 Banchi. My elder brother Kinoshita Ichiryu is the head of the household.”

“Yamagata Prefecture, Sakata City...”

Mr. Kawai wrote it down,

“Is that an area with temples? Temple Town, you mean?”

Mr. Kawai stared intently at my face.

“There used to be temples, I hear.”
“You can still find them scattered about even now.”

“Ichiryu’s an odd sort of name.”

“The real name was Ryuichi, but since it’s the countryside we’re talking about, when filing the paperwork, the city office clerk ended up writing it all mixed up.”

“You said you’re the third son, right?”

“Hmm. The next eldest brother is Ryuji, I’m Ryunosuke, and there are two older sisters right above me, but both have married and left home. Coincidentally, both ended up as landowners.”

“That’s more than enough.”

The application quickly took effect, and the matter was settled solely between the parties involved.

“What about Miss Sumiko’s parents?”

I felt there was yet another obstacle.

“If Miss Sumiko is agreeable, we have no objections.”
“We’ve entrusted all that entirely to them.”

“Then I can rest easy now.”

“But what about your side? If you’re agreeable, your brother will naturally give his consent, I presume?”

“It’s fine. I’ve been away from home for so long that I decide everything on my own. My elder brother can give his approval after the fact.”

“With this, things are now firmly settled between the parties involved.”

“Hmm. It’s all thanks to you.” “It’s entirely thanks to you.”

“By the way, there’s one thing about Miss Sumiko’s body that I need you to specially understand.”

Mr. Kawai broached the topic with some discomfort.
I jolted at the thought.
Because everything had been settled so smoothly and quickly, despite Miss Sumiko’s beauty, I suspected she might have some flaw—that there was something physically wrong with her.

“What is it?”
“What in the world…?”

“Actually, I held back because I thought you might dislike it, but Miss Sumiko’s family is a temple.”

“Whaaat?”

“Some say that when a man discovers the woman he’s interested in is the daughter of a temple family, it gives him a gloomy feeling.”
“In fact, I felt the same way.”

“Whaaat?”

“After everything was settled with Miss Tsuneko’s family being a temple household—though I only learned this from the matchmaker afterward.”

“Your wife’s family too?”

“Hmm. When I accompanied her back to Tsuyama in Sakushu for her homecoming, temple households aren’t any different from ordinary families.”

“Ha ha ha”

“The garden is spacious enough to feel somewhat tranquil and serene. I hear Miss Sumiko’s place is right next door, but since I never imagined things would turn out this way, I didn’t look closely—though it seems they’ve got a large garden too.”

“Ha ha ha”

“What is it?”

“Strange thing indeed.”
“The world works in strange ways.”

“Why?”

“Why? Ha ha ha.”

And I couldn’t help but find it absurdly comical.

(February 1950 [Showa 25], King)