Pathway to Japanese Literature

By: Sasaki Kuni

By: Sasaki Kunio

A Group of Beautiful Typists

When I turned forty, my wife celebrated my birthday with a whole fish, and at the celebration,

"As the saying goes, 'Forty and not confused,' so please don't be led astray anymore."

she instructed.

“I’ve never been confused before.”
“I’ll stay at this company until retirement.”
“I’m telling you not to get led astray.”
“That’s why I’m saying—”
“If I keep working hard like this, it’s not impossible for my turn as director to come around.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“To put it plainly—don’t let women lead you astray.”

“I’ve never been led astray by women.”
“The only time I was ever led astray was by you, and I’ve completely attained enlightenment.”
“I do crack jokes sometimes, but—”

“I don’t care for that joke of yours.”
“Going on about ‘which beauty from where’ and such nonsense.”

My wife urged me to reflect by citing several concrete examples.
When I thought about it, I realized.
If I’d just kept quiet, it would’ve been fine—but I’m honest.
I’m told I talked in my sleep about Ms. Koshiba the typist twice.

“Forty and Not Confused—you.”
“Forty and not confused!”
“If you keep pretending you’re still young forever, people will laugh at you.”
“I must ask you to behave prudently.”

My wife was determined to bind me with "Forty and Not Confused."

Now, I had been working at a first-class company for seventeen years and was first and foremost among those sailing smoothly through life.
I currently held the position of Document Section Chief.
My standing was unshakable.
When attending gatherings of classmates who graduated in my year, I seemed to be regarded as the most enviable among them.

“Don’t you have any children?”
“You’re doing well.”
“In that case, isn’t it like living with a lover your whole life?”

and they all sounded envious.

I too acknowledged that life was easier because it was just my wife.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want children, but if we didn’t have any, we had to resign ourselves to that fact.

“My household’s carefree. It’s simple since my wife’s alone.”

I said.
However, my wife found this phrasing unsatisfactory.

“Please say ‘because it’s just my wife and me.’”
“If you say ‘because my wife is alone,’ doesn’t it sound like you want two people?”

“Hmm, I see.”
“I suppose it could be taken that way.”

“It certainly can.”

“In that case, I’ll be more careful.”

I didn't argue.
We had a love marriage that brought us to today.
When I thought about those days, I couldn't treat them lightly.
However, my wife wanted me to remain forever in the mindset I'd had when proposing to her—that was asking too much.
After all, twelve years had passed.
My wife was five years younger than me at thirty-six; I was forty-one, having surpassed Forty and Not Confused by one year.

There were eight typists in the Document Section. Since they were all of marriageable age, supervising them to prevent what’s called youthful indiscretions counted among my duties. Many were beautiful—likely because they considered appearance during hiring too.

“Your section has such lovely color,” other section chiefs would remark enviously. “Mine’s stuck with rough-edged types. You’d never glimpse such tranquil scenery over there.”

With that, the other section chiefs voiced their envious remarks.
It wasn’t that there were no male staff members in the Document Section either.
However, since I kept such a watchful eye on them, they faded into the background.
In the end, I alone was affectionately called "Section Chief, Section Chief" by all.

The typists conferred among themselves and announced they wanted to study English more.
English certainly needed a bit more work.
They wanted me to teach them, but I refused flat out.
Though I made my living through English, I had no experience teaching.

The most beautiful typist among them, Ms. Koshiba Fumie, came to ask on everyone’s behalf.
It must have been that she was recommended on the grounds that it was you.
Even to me—Forty and Not Confused—beautiful people still appeared beautiful.
And so I believed I could face heaven and earth without shame.
I was a section chief at a company.
I was not appointed as a model teacher for a generation like Master Confucius.
I inadvertently ended up looking out for her, which was why I had frequent interactions with Ms. Koshiba.
Calling me “Section Chief, Section Chief,” Ms. Koshiba also acted sweetly.

“Section Chief, you must have been quite dashing when you were younger.”

She said such things to me.

“That stings. I still think I’m young, you know!”

“Oh my! What a dreadful discourtesy I’ve committed!”

“I can’t just coast on being called young anymore, but...”

But this I did not voice aloud.
In my mind, I always thought this.

Ms. Koshiba’s desk was right next to mine.
It wasn’t arranged in order of beauty, but by chance, that’s how the seating had ended up.

“Section Chief, I know this must be troublesome for you, but we’d still like to ask for your guidance in English after all.”

Then one day, Ms. Koshiba proposed again.

“I’m no good.”

“Because it’s what everyone has been waiting for.”

“As I said before, my English is just for my own reading and writing—it isn’t suited for conversation.”

“I would like to read your books—your books.”

“What kind of books?”

“Something literary among your books that also builds English skills.”

“I haven’t read English books or anything like that in a long time. Even someone like me was quite the dashing literary youth in my younger days, you know.”

“Oh my!”
“Revenge?”

“Ha ha ha.”

“Section Chief, is it really no good?”

“No good, no good. And I don’t have the time.”

Refusing the beautiful Ms. Koshiba's persistent pleas time and again was painful. I was someone particularly vulnerable to feminine beauty. The typists' English left much to be desired. I had even considered taking it on if need be, but since she appeared to have relented, I let matters stand.

At Saturday’s closing time,

“Section Chief, may I have the honor of visiting your home tomorrow?”

Ms. Koshiba asked.

"Do you have business with me?"

"There is something I wish to ask of Madam."

"Of my wife?"

“Ah.”
“If I have requests to make, there are also instructions from Madam.”
“You keep making all these jokes—it’s becoming a problem.”

“That’s absurd!”

I was somewhat startled.
The lesson of Forty and Not Confused had truly taken root.

“Ohohoho.”
“That’s a lie!”

“What business brings you here?”

“Truthfully, since we’re always indebted to your kindness, I’ve come to pay respects on behalf of everyone.”

“In that case, feel free.”

“This will be acceptable, yes?”

“Perfectly acceptable—but please refrain from frivolous remarks.”
“My circumstances are rather delicate, you understand.”

“I’m fully aware of that.”

“Is it being talked about?”

“Not at all.
Because you mentioned that once before.”

“I see.”

“Actually, I was hoping to bring up the matter of English instruction to Madam and ask for her special arrangements.”

Ms. Koshiba was sharp-witted.

Her visit appeared designed to persuade me by acknowledging my wife’s authority.

“That would be acceptable.”
“I’ve never wanted personal dealings with you all beyond official matters.”
“(Thinking I’d said something clever) That’s why I declined, so please explain that part thoroughly.”

“I’ll explain everything thoroughly.”

“Please don’t mention the matters we discussed.”
“Because it would be awkward if people thought I’d done some scheming.”

And I emphasized further, having to say things that might invite scrutiny of my position.

On Sunday morning, Ms. Koshiba came to visit.
I had made it a rule to be lazy on Sundays and not shave.
However, with Ms. Koshiba occupying my thoughts, I made cleanly shaving my first task of the day.
Though I had been counting every moment, I showed no sign of anticipation.
When word came from my wife,

“Ms. Koshiba?”
“Hmm.”
“What business could it be?”

I tilted my head.

“It’s not your domain.”
“She came to mine.”

“Well now.”

“She said it’s a matter better discussed without meeting the Section Chief.”

“That’s odd.”

“But do come later.”

My wife looked triumphant.

The English Teacher and the Tea Ceremony Teacher

I was persuaded by my wife and ended up teaching English to the typists.
Since Saturdays meant early closing at work, I ended up dedicating about an hour or so of my time.
My wife had taken quite a liking to Ms. Koshiba and often brought her up in conversation.

“She’s such a lovely lady.”

“Well.
Looks aside, she’s useful because she’s sharp.”

“Is her family also quite respectable?”

“Her father is said to be a government official, but probably just a low-ranking clerk.”
“She said he works at the Ministry of Finance.”

“She was in Western attire, but she would look even more striking in a kimono.”
“Are there many ladies like that at your company?”

“They’re probably about that level, I’d say.”
“They’re all at that age anyway.”

“So doesn’t that mean you’re surrounded by beautiful people?”

“Does it bother you?”

“I’m perfectly at ease.”
“What would I do with someone like you?”

“It’s more that they’re young than beautiful, you know.”
“You were even more beautiful.”

“You put that rather nicely.”

“It’s true.
Ha ha ha!”

“I hear you’re quite the strict taskmaster at the office?”

“I don’t think that’s quite true.”

“Not at all. Because you never crack a single joke, everyone’s all on edge, they say.”

“If I show my white teeth, I lose control.”
“I don’t allow any idle chatter.”

My wife invited Ms. Koshiba on Sunday afternoon.
I joined them too but kept silent while letting my wife do all the talking, which apparently gave the impression that I was quite reserved and proper at home—unlike at the company.
The next morning, Ms. Koshiba expressed her thanks discreetly, as if wary of prying eyes.

“Section Chief, you’ve got it backward.”

She said.

“What do you mean?”

“We put on demure fronts when we’re out, but you wear yours at home, Section Chief.”

“Did it seem that way?”

“Oh. Are you afraid of your wife?”

“That’s not the case.”

“What a good wife you have. So kind.”

“Her eyes see far. Because she’s such a wise wife, they sometimes see too much and cause trouble.”

Amidst this, my wife expressed her desire to teach Ms. Koshiba the tea ceremony.
It was after Ms. Koshiba had begun visiting of her own accord.
My wife was well-versed in the tea ceremony.
At the very least, she had gone to Kyoto and obtained a teaching license from either the Omote or Ura branch of the Senke school.
She had been teaching her niece, but since the niece got married and left, she currently had no students.
Unlike English, the tea ceremony seemed to be something she was eager to teach to just about anyone.

“How about it?
Won’t you suggest it to her?”

“Well…”

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that I dislike it, but I don’t know whether she actually wants it.”

“That’s exactly why I need you to ask her properly.”

“Wouldn’t that make us look like pushy salespeople?”

“But I have proper certification.”
“Do you even have a license to teach English?”

And my wife suddenly became confrontational.
The logic was off.
She was waving her license around when that wasn’t even the issue.

“I don’t.”
“Such a thing—”

“Then aren’t you the pushy peddler here? An unlicensed one at that, teaching without credentials—”

“That’s harsh, calling me an unlicensed peddler.”
“I’m only teaching because you insisted, even though I hate it.”

“You don’t seem to dislike it too much, though.”

“I do hate it!”

“Rather than that, since I truly want to teach her, you must ask her properly.”
“After all, I did save your face.”

“Doesn’t that logic work both ways?”

“It does not.”

“I didn’t want to teach, but I did it to save face for you.”

“That’s enough already.
I’ll ask her myself, so just don’t interfere.”

“I won’t interfere.
I only said that because I wondered if she wanted it.
I’ll handle it.”

“Please recommend it.
If it doesn’t work out, it’ll be your responsibility. Understood?
Because you’ve always looked down on my tea ceremony.”

“You’re just impossible.”

I said that, but didn’t press further. When our voices grew too loud during these exchanges, the maid might overhear.

I wondered whether an English typist would have any interest in tea ceremony. With my wife insisting it would be our responsibility if Ms. Koshiba didn’t become her pupil, refusal was out of the question.

Thinking "Anyway," I, on my way home one day,

“Ms. Koshiba, how about it? Would you accompany me to Hibiya?”

I made the proposal.

In any case, we would be walking that far anyway.
There were frequent occasions when we were together.
Since my wife’s topic came up frequently, I began the conversation by talking about her on the way.
My wife had been practicing tea ceremony for many years and held licenses for both front and back techniques.
I heard her license was a level above those widowed instructors who advertised their services around town, but she didn’t teach commercially.
She only instructed those with whom she shared a close personal connection.
There had even been times when daughters of executives came to learn from her.
She had also taught her niece.

“She’s even telling me to take lessons.”
“However, I don’t intend to grow senile enough to become my wife’s disciple.”
“By the way, my wife has grown so fond of you lately that she’s proposed instructing you herself.”
“Ms. Koshiba, what do you think?”

“Section Chief, this is exactly what I wished for.”
“I’d actually been thinking of going somewhere to take lessons.”

Ms. Koshiba’s response was a godsend.

“That’s very gracious of her.
As a teacher, she’s fully qualified, so please do consider this.”

“I shall humbly pay a visit this Sunday.”

“Now I can rest easy.”

With that, I explained the circumstances.
Though it felt like betraying my wife, Ms. Koshiba knew both sides of me well.

“Section Chief, you’re so kind, aren’t you?”

“It’s not really like that, but she is my wife whom I won through courtship.”

“Well, really!”

“When I think of the past, I feel responsible.”

“Section Chief, I’ve had enough.”

Ms. Koshiba played along quite well.
The forty-and-unconfused section chief found such things delightful.

“By the way, Ms. Koshiba.”
“What might that be?”
“Please ensure this mentorship remains yours alone.”
“Oh?”

“My wife intends for this to be just you.”
“It would become troublesome with too many people.”

“Am I not troublesome too?”

“Since you’re my wife’s favorite, it can’t be helped.”

“It just can’t be helped, can it?”

“Please don’t speak such unkindness.”

“Ohoho! Since I’ll be humbly commencing my apprenticeship posthaste, I earnestly request your kind guidance.”

Ms. Koshiba began coming to my house every Sunday.
It was kept confidential from her fellow typists.
As a section chief, I felt I was lacking in fairness and impartiality, and my conscience pricked me, but circumstances left me no choice.
As for Ms. Koshiba, she was unconcerned about such matters and appeared pleased with the preferential treatment; on Saturday as we were leaving,

“Till tomorrow again,”

she whispered.

“I’ll be waiting... discreetly.”

“I hate this ‘discreetly’ business!”

“Shall I come to meet you at the station?”

“That’s too much! Ohoho.”

My wife, who had been starved for disciples, instructed her enthusiastically.
Ms. Koshiba, too, was earnest because she felt indebted.
She picked things up quickly.
She retained things well.

“She’s such an enthusiastic young lady!”

When my wife praised her, I deliberately raised an objection.

“But having her do tea ceremony in a one-piece dress is downright disruptive. I can’t approve.”

“Well, that’s true.
I am thinking about it as well.”

“Shall I have her come in kimono?”

“Just wait and see.”

“Why?”

“You’ll realize it yourself. After all, you’re such a clever person.”

Sure enough, Ms. Koshiba began coming in kimono from autumn.
On that first day, my wife called me to the tearoom and,

“Well, what do you think?”

she introduced Ms. Koshiba in kimono.

“Well, well.”

“Western clothes suit you well, but kimono takes it up another notch.”
“Now turn that way.”

“Ah.”

“Now turn this way.”

“Ha ha ha.
“This is good.”

I got carried away.

On the other hand, my English lectures continued from August through October.
Having given it some thought, I had limited them to three months from the start.
First, I firmly admonished them that wanting to read novels was out of the question and selected an extremely simple textbook.
The students were not very capable, and the teacher lacked confidence.

Even so, the typists were delighted.
Since I was teaching them myself now, I didn't want to make a fool of myself.
At first both sides remained enthusiastic enough about these sessions; but with repetition came slackening.
The sense that we were engaged in something unnecessary grew profound.
Doing something once a week or so won't build language skills.
But I couldn't very well suggest stopping now; nor were they in any position to ask me to end it.
It was precisely because I was section chief and they my subordinates that we managed somehow or other to bring things properly to their conclusion.
It had been a splendid undertaking—but one with absolutely no effect.
In the end all I'd received was this hands-on lesson that such things shouldn't be done.

It was an evening when we had caught our breath after the section chief’s lecture had ended.
After dinner, my wife came after me into the study, and as soon as she sat down,

“Darling, I have a request for you,” she said. From years of experience, I knew that whenever my wife settled in like this, it never boded well. While telling myself I needed to stay on guard, I asked with feigned nonchalance: “What is it? What’s this about?”

“Since this is a good opportunity, you should begin tea ceremony lessons as well.”

“…………”

“Do you find it disagreeable?”

“It’s not that I dislike it, but…”

“You’re not saying you find it disagreeable, are you? Since you’re fond of Ms. Koshiba, wouldn’t being together be exactly what you wish for?”

My wife was immediately like this.
When her speech turns formal, she’s got an ulterior motive.
It wasn't a request or anything like that.
It’s coercion.

“You shouldn’t speak in such a high-handed manner.”
“I neither like nor dislike Ms. Koshiba.”

“Then why do you come to peek at Ms. Koshiba?”
“During lessons”

“…………”

“Because your shadow falls on the tea cabinet doors, I can tell even when facing away.”
“It’s not as if I polish them to a glossy shine for that purpose—you’re gravely mistaken if you take me for a fool.”

“…………”

“If you like Ms. Koshiba, then by all means like her—that’s perfectly fine.”
“As long as you don’t let yourself be led astray.”

“I won’t be confused.”

“What about your lessons?”

“I hate them.”

“Didn’t you just say you didn’t dislike them now?”

“It’s because you pressure me that I hate them.”
“You’re lacking in decorum toward your husband.”

“If my way of asking was improper, please forgive me.
“I’m not pressuring you at all.
“Am I not simply making a request?
“How many years have I been making this request?
“This will be my request for the rest of my life.”

“…………”

“Would it not be acceptable for you to assimilate just a little into tea ceremony?
“Darling,”

“I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll need your answer by tomorrow morning.
“Because Ms. Koshiba will be coming tomorrow.”

“You’re in a terrible hurry, aren’t you?”

After going to bed, I thought.
Since receiving permission, my wife had been making me her immediate target.
She would repeatedly plead for me to at least grasp its true essence.
It wouldn't amount to much burden—a task where I could sit beside Ms. Koshiba clad in kimono.
I ought to yield graciously.
Having resolved thus, I thought that had I consulted a fortune-teller, they might have declared this year saw clashing fates of teaching and being taught.
Amused by this notion, I smiled wryly beneath the covers.

The Hibiscus Pattern as Catalyst

I acceded to my wife’s entreaty and began practicing the tea ceremony alongside Ms. Koshiba.
Since she was my junior by far, I followed her lead.
Yet there was an advantage to living with one’s instructor—she provided supplementary lessons.
If I applied myself earnestly, the tea ceremony proved not so trivial after all.
Interest began stirring within me.

“Section Chief, oh ho!”

Then one day at the office, Ms. Koshiba verified that no one was nearby.

“What is it?”

“So you’ve finally capitulated to Madam’s command after all.”
“You did boast about keeping your wits about you, though…”

“It can’t be helped.”

“Is your Madam still so fearsome, I wonder?”

“But more than that, being with you is a great incentive.”

“Oh! Really?”

“Ah!
Am I causing you trouble?”

“On the contrary, I’m happy.”

“Thanks to you, I’ve even developed an interest in tea itself.”

With that, I was satisfied.

My wife was also in a good mood.
Until now, when I engaged with her thinking it was just casual talk, there would be fishhooks concealed that I often got snagged on, but recently there had been no such concern.
I could take her words exactly as they were.

“You’ve seemed truly cheerful lately, haven’t you?”

One evening, my wife spoke up.
It was after a supplementary lesson.

“I haven’t progressed enough to enter that state of bliss yet, but...”

“Not at all. When you’re with Ms. Koshiba. I think it’s just fine. People who work need youth. You mustn’t grow old. Because being with a young person rejuvenates you.”

“Well...”

The conversation was too neatly tailored, so I grew slightly wary.

"As long as you don't get led astray, it's fine."
"I don't get jealous or anything like that."

“Hmm.”

“Just don’t overstep the proper measure.”

“I won’t overstep the proper measure.”
“But since you put it that way, I’ll speak plainly.”
“I don’t even understand myself anymore.”

“What do you mean?”
“That is—”

“The other typists mean nothing to me, but I’m hopelessly taken with Ms. Koshiba.”
“When I talk to her, I’m simply happy.”

“That must be what they call an old man’s infatuation.”

“I’m not yet at an age to be called senile.”

“You—that’s confusion itself.”
“That’s indecision.”
“Persisting in youthful self-delusion past forty is pure illusion.”

When my wife stated this forcefully, I wondered if I’d bitten her hook again.

“But everyone says I seem young.”

“No one would address you as elderly, Section Chief.”
“Even clinging to youthful pretensions changes nothing—Ms. Koshiba regards you as insignificant.”
“She merely relishes being admired and indulged.”
“There’s vanity involved too.”
“All moderately self-assured young women flirt.”

“There does seem to be a tendency toward flirtatiousness.”

“You must make more effort to understand me.”
“My taking the trouble to draw Ms. Koshiba in and instruct her isn’t mere caprice.”
“It’s all for your sake.”
“Though it’s also for my sake.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“When you mentioned Ms. Koshiba in your sleep, I knew this was a grave matter.”
“After that—whether by chance or your instigation, I couldn’t say—but Ms. Koshiba came to visit, didn’t she?”
“Indeed, seeing she’s such a beautiful person, I thought it only natural you’d be led astray.”
“I don’t get jealous or anything like that, do I?”

“…………”

“Hey, you.”

“…………”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you!”

“I-I’m not jealous.”

I had to assure her that wasn’t the case.

“I’m thirty-six, Ms. Koshiba is twenty-two—no matter how much I might have been in my prime, I couldn’t possibly compete.”
“Rather than that, I considered it safer to constantly invite her to our home and become close with her myself.”
“That way, you’ll no longer need to evade my watchful eye, and everything can be aboveboard.”
“In any case, since you have no intention of exceeding the proper measure anyway.”

“I have no such intention. Absolutely none.”

“It’s just that one rivet in your head has come loose.”

“That’s harsh.”

“I’m not one to be underestimated, you know.”
“How about that?”

“You’re not one to be underestimated.”
“I’m impressed.”

The tea ceremony lessons continued from autumn through winter and extended into the New Year.
Both my wife and I had hoped they would continue indefinitely, but then an incident occurred.
This became the trigger that made me reflect on myself with sudden clarity.

On Sunday morning, just as I was eagerly awaiting her arrival, Ms. Koshiba came dashing into the entranceway with a panicked expression.

“Madam, Madam!”

“Oh my!”
“Ms. Koshiba, what’s happened?”

“A strange person followed me from the station.”
“From inside the train. I was so scared, I-I...”

“What kind of person?”

“A young person.”
“He came all the way to the gate, so he might still be around here.”

I immediately went outside to check.
A young man wearing a beret stood blankly gazing up at the gate nameplate.
He was a well-mannered man who didn't seem malicious, but—

"What are you doing there?"

I asked.

"I'm sorry.
I'm terribly sorry if I caused any misunderstanding."

"So it was you who followed that young lady here just now, wasn't it?"

"Um...
That would be me."

"Why would you do such a thing?"

“Well…”
“It’s rather difficult for me to explain.”
“When I think about it, I must have been lacking in manners.”
“I deeply apologize.”
“Allow me to take my leave.”

“If you do something like this again, I’ll report you to the police.”

“You’re quite right, but I am by no means someone with malicious intent.”

The young man bowed politely and headed toward the station.
He walked off slowly, tilting his head to one side.
He looked back.
Startled to find me still standing there, this time he began walking quickly.
Was he some kind of molester after all?
I thought he was a strange man.

“Could it be he followed you here by mistake?”

I thought to keep Ms. Koshiba from worrying and had in fact considered whether that might be the case.

“No. Because even on the train, he was staring at me.”

“It’s because you’re beautiful,” my wife teased.

Ms. Koshiba usually stayed for a meal after finishing her lesson before heading home.
But that day, she didn’t chat cheerfully as she usually did.
There was anxiety that he might be lying in wait somewhere again.
My wife, having noticed this too, had me escort her to the station.
After making sure she boarded the train and returning home, to my surprise, that young man was standing at the entrance.
It immediately became clear that my wife had been at a loss.

“Though this belated explanation may seem presumptuous, I’ve come to clarify matters.”
“I must apologize for this intrusion, but I beg you to hear me out.”

With that, the young man presented his business card.
It bore the title “Member of the Taiheiyo Gakai.”

“Are you a painter?”

I felt somewhat relieved. At the same time, I stared intently at his face and concluded he was indeed a sincere young man.

“Well... The fact is, we young members were commissioned to paint designs for Takashimaya’s Hyakusenkai obi fabrics, and I took on twenty of them myself. Though I’m still inexperienced, by chance I managed to create one piece that truly satisfied me. I said I wanted to keep this one, but since it was the client’s property, the handler went ahead and handed it over as it was. I had thought that none other than the person who bought that obi would be the one to recognize my art. Then this morning, on my way to visit a friend at the next station, I spotted that young lady on the train. It really does seem to be the obi I painted. Since she was wearing a haori, I couldn’t see the back. It has a hibiscus pattern.”

“Why, I’m the one who bought that obi.”

“Why, I’m the one who bought that obi.” My wife leaned forward.

“Are you the Madam?”
“Thank you very much for this.”

“It’s beautifully made, isn’t it?
But since it was a bit too flashy for me, I gave it to that young lady.”

“I understand.
Thank you very much.
I must apologize for my terrible rudeness.”

“Oh, that’s quite all right.”
“If that’s how it is, then I’m relieved.”
“Please come in.”

I agreed.

The young painter firmly declined but asked to meet the young lady once to see how the obi looked.
He also said he wanted to apologize.

“That’s no trouble at all. Please come this Sunday.”

My wife agreed.

Requests to Each Individual

About a month later, Ms. Koshiba's attitude underwent a complete change.
There was a Sunday when she didn’t come despite my wife waiting.
After claiming she had caught a cold and taking two consecutive days off,

“Section Chief, I know this is presumptuous of me, but I’d like to take leave during the cold season. Please inform Madam.”

Koshiba proposed.

“That should be fine.”

“There’s something I must come and tell you about, but...”

“I don’t mind at all. Is something the matter?”

“No．Because things at home are keeping me busy．”

My side hadn’t changed at all．
Even if she didn’t come to the house，I could still see her face at the company．

“How about it? How about keeping me company for a stroll around Ginza?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re expecting a guest at home today.”

Ms. Koshiba refused.
Even when I made jokes, she would only answer with a word or two before standing to leave.
She somehow seemed to feel burdened by me.

One day on my way home from work, without any particular intention, I found myself following Ms. Koshiba.
As I walked along thinking I shouldn’t go that way, a young man waiting at the building’s corner raised his hand.
Ms. Koshiba ran over and joined him.
Holding hands, they disappeared between the buildings.
That young man was the Western-style painter in the beret we’d heard about.

It seems their relationship had unexpectedly begun with that obi incident.
Ah, so that’s why she had stopped coming to the house.
She was deceiving both my wife and me.
I felt as though I’d been made to drink scalding water.

The next morning, as soon as we met at the company, I called Ms. Koshiba into a separate room and,
“Ms. Koshiba, are you involved with that young painter from before?”

I asked.

“…………”

Ms. Koshiba’s face changed color.

“Please speak truthfully.”

“I believe such matters are my own concern.”

“Of course it’s your freedom, but your parents or seniors hold positions where they consider your happiness.”
“Moreover, since it was we—my wife and I—who introduced you to that young man, we feel responsible.”

“I’m sorry for not informing you sooner.”

“What kind of relationship have you two entered into?”

“I believe such matters are our own concern.”

“Then may I understand it as I’ve imagined?”

“…”

“You have fallen into a romantic relationship with that young man—”

“…”

“This is an important matter.”
“If you make a misstep, your whole life will be ruined.”
“You must think this through carefully.”

“Section Chief.”

“What is it?”

“Am I going to be fired?”

“That’s a minor issue,”
“I’m concerned about your well-being as your close friend.”
“Don’t you understand my good intentions?”

“…………”

“Trust me and tell me everything properly.”

“Since this concerns our freedom, I can’t tell you.”

I left it at that, but I already grasped the situation.
This wasn’t some fragrant affair.
Deeming it troublesome, I consulted my wife about the matter.

“See?”
“These modern young women are something else, aren’t they?”

my wife said admonishingly.

Ms. Koshiba stopped coming to work after that.

Ms. Koshiba’s father came to visit the company.
I thought he had come to apologize for his daughter’s misconduct, but—

“Section Chief, I must say, I was shocked.”

he said abruptly.

“The daughter I entrusted to your supervision has taken a lover.”
“Section Chief, that is precisely why I have come to ask this of you.”
“That young man was originally someone you were kind enough to introduce.”
“In your official capacity, would you be so kind as to investigate his background?”

“Are you telling me that it’s my responsibility to conduct a background investigation?”

“I trust you’ll handle this appropriately.”

“I must decline that.”
“Even if we introduced them, Ms. Fumie is responsible for immediately falling into a romantic relationship.”
“Raising a daughter who’s so flighty is you parents’ responsibility.”
“Even though you’ve been living with her all along, isn’t it irresponsible as a parent to have only just found out last night and be shocked?”

“…………”

“You’re a government official, so I assume you have some education.”
“Can’t you at least show common courtesy?”

“…………”

“Can’t you say you’re ashamed your daughter has done such a thing?”
“Since there’s no way forward but to settle this, and considering our past dealings, can’t you say, ‘I humbly request you investigate his background’?”

“…………”

“If you can’t say it, then this discussion ends here.”

And I stood up.

“Now, now—please wait.”

“Your attitude is all wrong.”

“There’s no excuse for this.”
“The truth is, I’ve been thrown into disarray by unforeseen circumstances.”
“This morning, I barked at my wife before coming here.”
“I humbly beg your forgiveness for my repeated discourtesies.”

Her father had finally regained his senses.

Given that the daughter they had trusted completely had betrayed them, one could well imagine the parents’ panic.
I too had trusted Ms. Koshiba completely.
That she declared such things to be a matter of freedom was both irritating and admirable.
Apparently, she had made that same declaration to her parents as well.
And so her father came rushing in like a madman.

I investigated the young painter’s background.
He turned out to be the second son of a dried bonito wholesaler in Nihonbashi, with excellent academic records and recognized as a promising up-and-comer with high hopes for the future.
He wasn’t some starving artist—if he were to branch off from the family, they’d give him a considerable share.
To tell the truth, I was startled when they mentioned there appeared to be a lover—but it turned out to be none other than Ms. Koshiba.
The parents had approved.
A dried bonito wholesaler’s family was more reliable than that of a government official.
Even so, from how he had dutifully informed his parents about every detail, I could recognize the young man’s sincerity.

Recognizing it as a good match, we undertook the task of matchmaking. She was the most beautiful typist at the company.

With the majority of young employees in attendance, the wedding reception was extremely grand.

Right after that,
"You seem rather deflated now that Mr. Ozaki has taken your jewel from the palm of your hand, don’t you?"
my wife said.

“That’s not the case. I’m already forty and not confused.”

“Please truly don’t stray anymore. Young people don’t give a second thought to an old man like you.”

“I’m not an old man. I’m middle-aged.”

“I don’t even consider middle-aged men worth noticing.”

“I know.”

“It was quite an ordeal until you came to understand.”

“Stop harping on it.”

I declared conclusively.

The notion of 'forty and not confused' isn't some ancient yardstick Confucius laid down.
It's a demand pressed upon every forty-year-old man.
When any man hits forty, his marriage has lasted over a decade, landing him in a rut.
My wife's faint wrinkles were starting to show.
Women in their twenties—perky and alive—caught my eye.
I knew the age gap made it hopeless, yet that rebellious part of me whispered maybe something could work.
So I'd get drawn in anyway.
Confucius saw right through that and decreed you mustn't wander at forty.
Ms. Koshiba taught me my lesson.
I won't stray anymore.
Even if I did stray, it'd be pointless.

(January 1952, Kōdan Club)