Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Sasaki Kunio

Mr. Tsushima’s Viscount Disease lasted a long time.
When he drank, it brought on [the Viscount Disease] suddenly.
Going back to the time of the Meiji Restoration and the Abolition of Domains and Establishment of Prefectures,

“If Grandfather hadn’t let that golden opportunity slip back then, I could be sitting pretty as a Lord Viscount by now.”

He would habitually lament with bitter resentment.
There was no use complaining now about things that had happened long before he was born—but that was the nature of drunken talk.
Given that there were even those who picked fights when drunk, complaining about fifty-year-old grievances at least fell into the category of good drinking habits.

“Here we go again.”

His friends could listen without concern.

“Careful now!”

There was no need for them to clear away the beer bottles.

Mr. Tsushima’s Viscount Disease occasionally manifested even at home.
Back in their newlywed days, when he still had his pale complexion,

“Okin, when you think about it, it’s such a shame.”
“If things had gone well, you would’ve been the young wife of a viscount’s heir.”

he would express frank sympathy to his wife.
And after his strict father’s passing, whenever he had evening drinks,
“If Grandfather had been a bit more flexible, you would’ve become a viscount’s wife by now.”
he would speak as if inheriting the title were a given.

“If you were from the peerage, a commoner like me would never have married you.”

By that time, the young wife had already passed thirty.

“I see.”
“That’s true too.”

“Oh ho.”
“So you’re impressed now, are you?”

“Come to think of it, maybe it’s better I wasn’t part of the peerage after all.”

And so, it was an extremely harmonious household.

However, over the long years, there were occasional signs of storm clouds brewing.
A year or two ago, Mr. Tsushima yielded to a slight irritation and,

“Ah, how dull, how dull.
“I’m still just a regular employee after all this time.”

he sighed deeply.

“You’re such an odd person.
When you drink, you always start voicing complaints.
Even as a regular employee, if we seven as parent and children can live without any wants like this, isn’t that perfectly fine?”

His wife, having secured equal rights through over a dozen years of cohabitation, now spoke her mind about everything she thought.
At times, she even voiced what sounded like opinions.

“If neither my work nor personal life satisfies me, it’s only natural complaints would surface now and then.”

“So you drink out of frustration? First, let’s address your lordship’s concerns.”

“Isn’t it spineless to still be a regular employee after fifteen years? The company doesn’t know how to treat people properly—that’s what irritates me.”

“That’s quite unreasonable of you.”
“Promotions follow their proper order.”
“However skilled you may be, if all higher positions are filled, what can one do?”

“That’s what they mean by something to look forward to.”

“But when others’ turns come, they do get promoted properly. There’s truly nothing to complain about.”

“What could you possibly understand?”
“I’m discontent with both work and home.”
“If only that old man had nodded yes back then, I’d at least be a viscount now.”

And Mr. Tsushima resorted to his chronic complaint.

“Oh ho,”
“Here comes your old refrain again.”

His wife’s ears had long since grown calluses from hearing it.

“If this were a proper world, I’d be pulling strings in the House of Peers by now.”

“...”

“What of it?
“In public I’m a regular employee, and at home… at home…”

Mr. Tsushima stumbled over completing the rhetorical parallel.

“And at home… what would you be?”

“It’s nothing.”

“There must be something to it.”
“By ‘at home,’ you mean you would have married a more beautiful wife from the clan by now, I suppose?”

His wife, with undignified persistence for her age, fixated on this peculiar implication.

“I haven’t considered it in such detail.”

“How shameless of you.”

“Not to your liking?”

“Public and private this, public and private that—when I think what you’re really getting at, you’re just mocking people.”

“It’s just that if the world were as it should be. If I were nobility, I’d have married into the peerage anyway—so I’d surely have ended up with someone far more beautiful than you.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s the case.”

“Are you angry?”

“Not at all.
If the world were as it should be.”

“I’d be grateful if you understood that.”

“But then you wouldn’t have three children who always come out on top.”

“That’s probably true.
To tell the truth, our children all having such good grades is thanks to you.”

“It’s precisely because you’re third generation.
If you were some common yam and your wife a noblewoman, we’d have ended up with five dimwitted children.”

“That’s harsh.”

“You’re the one being far harsher here.”

“Why?”

“But aren’t you just stopping short of saying our children turned out clever because I’m an unattractive commoner?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Don’t twist my words.”

And Mr. Tsushima certainly hadn’t intended anything of the sort.

“Then what exactly did you mean by that?”

“When it comes to children’s education, a middle-class household really is best after all.”

“Then there shouldn’t have been any complaints from the start, should there?”

“There’s no such thing.
I’ll give up on the viscount title and focus on becoming a section chief sooner.”

“That’s the sensible approach.”

And his wife was far more rational.

Mr. Tsushima’s Viscount Disease was hereditary.
It was not a matter for which responsibility should be borne alone.
Mr. Gen had also shown quite noticeable symptoms.

“Count ○○ and Viscount △△ were apparently those who became prefectural governors at that time.”
“Those who died early couldn’t be helped, but most ended up joining the peerage.”
“If Father had just given his consent, he could’ve attained wealth and status as he wished—what a waste.”

He would occasionally vent his frustrations to his friends. Mr. Tsushima had overheard this during his middle school days and once confronted his still-living grandfather about it. Then the old man also,

“There’s nothing to be done about it now, but I do sometimes think it was a waste.”
“If only I’d nodded agreement back then, I’d be Viscount Tsushima by now.”

And so, he was a splendid patient.

After the Meiji Restoration, Mr. Tsushima’s grandfather received a certain mission from his feudal lord and rushed about so busily that he had no time to warm his seat. In the process, he became acquainted with influential figures from Satsuma and Chōshū, and when the Abolition of Domains and Establishment of Prefectures was implemented,

“Mr. Tsushima, have you any interest in becoming a prefectural governor? At this time, I can arrange matters however you wish.”

His capabilities had been recognized.

“I could do it, but right now would prove difficult. I must briefly return due to a summons from my feudal lord.”

“Set your feudal lord aside for now and agree to this. Given that the domains have been abolished, it’s perfectly justifiable to prioritize putting food on the table first. Given your seniority, I’ll arrange a favorable position for you.”

“No, I appreciate your offer, but I cannot so hastily disregard my lord’s command.”
“Once I return after settling this matter, I shall make the request anew.”

The dutiful Mr. Tsushima immediately set out for a castle town in the Chūgoku region.

The official business for which His Lordship had summoned him turned out to be utterly trivial.

“Given how the times have changed, we now relieve you of your former duties.”
“You have served long and well.”

Since those were His Lordship’s exact words, he resented the officials for summoning him over such a trivial matter that could have been handled by written notice, but it was too late to make a fuss now.
Mr. Tsushima once again took leave of his wife and children,
“Next time I’ll become a prefectural governor and come back for you!”

he encouraged them.
And then, traveling day and night without rest, he hurriedly made his way back to Tokyo,

“At long last, I’ve freed myself from obligations.
Therefore, I humbly request the prefectural governor position you recently mentioned.”

he pompously submitted his request.

“Mr. Tsushima, you’re too late.
After all, over a month has already passed—every last position has been decided.”

was the reply.

“Since this trouble arose from our own doing, I won’t make extravagant demands.”
“If the prefectural governor positions are full, then their immediate subordinate roles would be acceptable.”
“Subordinate positions are also full.”
“Then their next lower subordinates would be acceptable.”

Mr. Tsushima kept steadily lowering his demands, but

“Well, it’s truly regrettable, but every last position from top to bottom has already been filled—only constable roles remain.”
“Would you find being a constable distasteful?”

was the response.

“Well,”
“Let me have some time to consider this.”

“If you keep dragging your feet like this, even constable posts will be filled.”

“Then I shall give my answer within two or three days.”

Disheartened, Mr. Tsushima withdrew.

A constable was a police officer of that time.
The fall from prefectural governor to constable was too harsh a drop, so Mr. Tsushima agonized over it considerably, but you can’t save your back at the expense of your belly.
In the end, though he was supposed to start as a prefectural governor and rise to viscount, he steeled himself to begin from the very bottom as a constable.
The day was waning and the road long; he was already over forty.
His old acquaintances had no room to promote those outside their faction, and with their statuses differing, he naturally drifted apart from them.
And so, with no exceptional promotions forthcoming, by the time he finally managed to reach the lowest rung of high-ranking officials, he had already become an old man.
The memory filled him with rage.
That resentment passed to his son, took possession of his grandson Tsushima-kun, and even now continues to haunt them each evening over drinks.

“Hisakazu, one or two major problems will inevitably arise in a person’s life.”
“Handle them well, and you’ll rise swiftly through the ranks.”
“But botch it just once, and you’ll never sprout again.”

The old man muttered these reflections at the time.

“That’s precisely true.”

And Tsushima-kun never forgot how he had stared at that snow-white beard.

“The rise and fall of one’s life gets decided,”
“It’s a terrifying thing.”
“I mixed up major problems with minor ones.”
“When domains got abolished, returning to one’s home province was a minor problem.”
“Becoming a prefectural governor, serving the nation, and establishing a household—that was the major issue.”
“Thinking back on it fills me with nothing but regret.”

“I feel regret too.”
“Viscounts seem so impressive.”
“There are viscounts’ children at my school who come riding horses every day.”

“When you become a viscount, people see you as impressive,”
“but there’s no real difference between humans.”
“It’s all luck.”
“Those executives who summoned me back hundreds of ri over trifling matters were executives through and through—but so was I, turning tail when every moment counted.”
“Hisakazu—the overturned cart ahead warns the one behind.”
“A major problem will come to you disguised as a minor one.”
“When that happens, keeping calm and telling them apart is what matters most.”
“Don’t bungle it like your grandfather did—handle it right.”

And the old man imparted a living lesson.

“I’ll be sure to advance with care.”

And Tsushima-kun pledged.

However, upon closely analyzing the old man’s precipitous fall from prefectural governor to constable—a demotion that had tormented him—it became clear that it wasn’t an absolute failure.
As parents, if they could make their children’s starting point even slightly easier, then they had fulfilled their responsibility.
Survival of the fittest was a relay race.
Becoming a viscount in one leap and dragging one’s wife, children, and dependents all the way to the finish line was a questionable approach.
Once you reached the summit, there was no path left but to descend.
Because Mr. Tsushima became a constable, he was able to settle in Tokyo and provide his sons with an excellent education.
The eldest son—that is, Tsushima-kun’s father—was a Bachelor of Engineering and served as chief engineer at a certain construction company.
Although the houses they built were largely destroyed in the recent earthquake, even so, they contributed far more to society than the eldest son of the peerage ever did.
The uncles also remained in the private sector, but there was actually one minor nouveau riche among them.
As for Tsushima-kun himself, having graduated from university with excellent grades, even as a regular employee, his future prospects were being watched.
Yet many of those who had called Mr. Tsushima back—the former domain executives and others who remained in their home province—later ventured into samurai business ventures and lost their fortunes.
Their descendants had generally declined further than in former times.

Now, Tsushima-kun, having taken his grandfather’s lesson to heart, began awaiting the arrival of a major problem immediately upon entering society from school—but fifteen years later, still—

“Tsushima-kun, how about trying your hand at becoming a corporate executive?”

There was no one who would propose such a thing. Since an immediate leap was impossible, he thought even becoming a section chief would do—yet that chance never came around. Merely being seen as promising wore his patience thin, and he would occasionally grumble. Each time, the Viscount Disease resurfaced.

“They say ‘At forty, one is free from confusion,’ so I’d held considerable hope—but it’s proven utterly futile.”

And Tsushima-kun grew despondent.

“If your position takes shape, you wouldn’t be lost even at thirty-five.”
“In short, life’s a matter of compensation.”

And his colleagues provided an even clearer interpretation.

“That’s right. If the world were as it should be, you wouldn’t have been confused from the start.”

“Lately, it comes out even when I don’t drink.”

“That’s just how pressing it is.”
“The children are growing up fast.”
“You feel constantly driven.”

And Tsushima-kun waited impatiently for a major problem to arrive, but year after year passed peacefully.

In the midst of this, his eldest son entered First Higher School.
As parents, they were naturally satisfied.
The colleagues also

“You have something to look forward to since your eldest is a boy.”
“In my case, they keep coming one after another, so I have to despair.”

“Well, if boys like yours at Tsushima-kun’s place are reassuring, but with a household like mine, who knows if girls aren’t far better.”

“And they said enviously.”
He had no objection to this either, but because he had secretly been planning a second phase of his life since turning forty—one that would culminate when his eldest son entered high school—
“What on earth are they going to do about this?”
And once again, he suddenly began to lose patience.
“You can hardly even complain these days, you know.”
And Mr. Soya, a colleague who had been sharing a desk with him since joining the company, cautioned him.

"Why?"

"It means there are layoffs."

“I can’t say I haven’t heard about it, but is it genuine?”

“Absolutely genuine.”
“It comes from a reliable source.”

“If there are any layoffs—when will they happen?”

“If they do it all at once, it’ll stand out—there’s no set time,” he said. “They’re apparently doing it sporadically.”

“This is awful,” Tsushima grumbled. “After waiting all this time, getting laid off now would be unbearable.”

A chill ran through Mr. Tsushima.

It was about half a month later that the attendant from the executive office came to call Mr. Soya.

“The Managing Director requests that you come out for a moment.”

“Hmm?”
“Me?”

And Mr. Soya confirmed with a look of surprise.
When a regular employee was summoned to the executive office, everyone became apprehensive.
As they say in Kyōgen plays, it was not my place to summon you.
It was generally understood to be an ominous sign.
At best, they would be ordered to complete some minor troublesome investigation by this time tomorrow.
Otherwise, it was a reprimand.
If things had gone wrong, it might have been the worst possible outcome.
Salary increases were simply handled through official notices from the General Affairs Department and did not require the Managing Director's involvement.
As Mr. Soya became occupied, his close friend Mr. Tsushima grew anxious.
About thirty minutes later, when he returned, suddenly—

“How did it go?”

he asked.

“Thank you for your long support, but…”

“Don’t talk nonsense.”

“No—no, this time…”

“Is it genuine?”

“It’s a joke.”
“Actually, you’ve sprouted a bud.”
“I’ll explain later.”

And Mr. Soya whispered cautiously, mindful of those around him.
“Mr. Tsushima, the Managing Director would like you to step out for a moment.”
Once more, the executive office attendant appeared.
Mr. Tsushima and Mr. Soya exchanged looks.
“It’s nothing bad.”

And Mr. Soya assured him while seeing off the attendant.

As usual with a cigar clenched between his teeth, the elderly Managing Director—whose face resembled that of a demon roof tile’s younger cousin—acknowledged Mr. Tsushima’s bow with

“Please,”

and pointed to a chair.

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Tsushima sat down and assessed the situation.

“There’s one thing I’d like you to consider—”

Having said up to that point, the Managing Director choked.
Hack-hack—he coughed laboriously.
Despite his chronic asthma, he wouldn’t give up his cigars.
Mr. Tsushima still couldn’t tell whether this meant good or bad fortune.

“...The Nagasaki branch is opening up, but do you have any intention of going all the way out to Kyushu?”
“If you’d rather not, we could transfer you to the General Affairs Department instead.”
“In any case, this would take effect from the latter half of the period, but I’d like to hear your intentions beforehand.”

“Yes, sir.”

And the worry about dismissal alone became unnecessary.

“In other words, it’s between becoming deputy manager at the branch or section chief at headquarters.”
“You’ve endured this for a long time, I must say.”

And what came next was tailor-made for him.

“Oh, it was nothing at all.”

Mr. Tsushima gave a light bow.
At last, the time had come—he was now faced with a major problem.

“Since there are likely family circumstances to consider, there’s no need for an immediate answer.”
“Please think it over until tomorrow.”

The Managing Director was impatient—everything had to be decided by tomorrow.
Mr. Tsushima wanted a more detailed explanation, but with the other man having fallen completely silent, it left him no recourse.

“Thank you for your various kind considerations.
Then tomorrow—no, since tomorrow is Sunday, I shall present my formal response the day after tomorrow.”

he replied and exited.

“That was quick.
How’d it go?”

And Mr. Soya was waiting.

“I’ve been under your care for so long…”

“Imitating others won’t do you any good. Your facial muscles have all gone slack.”

“You could tell after all?”

Mr. Tsushima broke into a grin.

“Anyway, it turned out well.”

Their nearly twenty years of waiting had finally borne fruit.

That evening, Mr. Tsushima,

“Okin! At last a big problem has arisen!”

he announced while taking off his shoes in the entranceway.

“How dreadful,” she replied. “You didn’t get your salary cut, did you?”

His wife had already assessed everything—it being payday, she’d come out to greet him with particular eagerness.

“This is no joke.
This is a genuine major problem!”

“Your big problems will all turn into small ones in a couple of days, so there’s no need to worry.”

“No—after learning my lesson from Grandfather’s mistakes, I make a point of erring on the side of caution by treating everything as a major problem at first glance. But this time—this time—it’s been a major problem from the very start.”

And Mr. Tsushima conveyed the instructions as given by the Managing Director and added a few annotations.

“How delightful,”
“Genuinely a big problem.”
“If it’s deputy manager, then becoming branch manager this time is practically guaranteed.”

And his wife also bustled about.
The branch manager of a first-class company was equivalent to an executive at a second-class company.

“This means the path to promotion has opened up,”
“If I become branch manager, it’s not impossible that an executive position might come my way.”

“Isn’t this better than a viscount?”

“The Viscount title was something we could’ve gotten for nothing—still a shame, you know.”

“You just can’t let go, can you?”

“Jokes aside, Nagasaki is far.”

“As they say—Edo-era Nagasaki is at the very edge of Japan.”

“It’s closer to Shanghai than Tokyo—that really makes me think.”

And Mr. Tsushima was wavering.

“If it were at least Kobe…”
“Mr. Soya is being transferred to Kobe.”

“Well.”
“Well—it’s still the deputy position after all.”

“Exactly. But being closer means there’s no alternative choice.”
“That spares us having to consider their perspective.”

“Can’t you become branch manager from section chief?”

His wife, whose goal had until now been section chief, was already beginning to grow more ambitious.

“Of course I can.
The section chief and branch deputy positions are essentially equivalent in rank.”

“Then the section chief position would be better.”

“But the branch deputy position isn’t bad either.
You’re more likely to gain recognition at a branch than being stuck with routine work at head office.
There are those who end their careers as section chiefs, but none who remain mere branch deputies.”

“Then the branch deputy position would be better.”

“But there’s the matter of the children’s education.”
“Kiyoshi has entered First Higher School, and Shigeru will be doing so in two years, right?”
“Because there are no high schools in Nagasaki, they’ll all end up scattered apart.”
“This is when it really matters.”

“About how many years would it take before you could return?”

“Once you start being sent around to branches, it’s for life.”
“If I were to become an executive—well, at any rate, I certainly wouldn’t come back as a regular employee.”

And Mr. Tsushima spoke in a tone that had already given up on being a regular employee.

“Will all the girls graduate from provincial girls’ schools?”

“That’s right. The marriage prospects would be provincial too.”

“You.”
“After all, the section chief position would be better.”

And his wife lacked conviction.

“Now now—let’s discuss this properly tonight.”
“When the Managing Director tells us to choose between options, there must be a reason behind it.”
“The key lies in staying calm and discerning carefully.”
“It would be disastrous to let this slip through our fingers like Grandfather did.”

“Father—is this truly one of those ‘big problems’?”

And at this moment, the eldest son came out from the study room.
Since he was nearly of age, he could now serve as a proper consultation partner.

Mr. Tsushima thought it over for a night and leaned toward the section chief position.

The next day, Mr. Soya came over,

“If I were you, I wouldn’t hesitate for a second.”
“Of course you should stay in Tokyo for the children’s education.”

and said enviously of the General Affairs Section Chief.

“I generally agree with that approach, but with big problems like this, you need to think several moves ahead like in a game of shogi.”

“No—for regular employees, once you’re above that horizon, it’s equal opportunity—just a matter of longevity.”

“A matter of longevity?”

“If you just live long enough, you can become a corporate executive.”
“Just look at Mr. Nishi or Mr. Kamibayashi—they’re merely growing more vigorous with age and have no other merits to speak of.”

“That’s true.”

“But that’s precisely what makes it valuable.”
“There’s no one else over sixty who can work like the young while still knowing every aspect of the company’s operations from top to bottom.”
“In other words, they’re the true survivors of corporate Darwinism.”
“From now on, we should make health our top priority.”

“I suppose I should take good care of myself and aim for longevity.”

“If you rise above the standard and avoid any major blunders, longevity will solve the problem for you.”
“It makes no difference where you are.”

“I’ll follow your advice and stay put.”

“Of course. It’s different from being ordered around from the start like me.”

“I’ve been agonizing since yesterday, but I won’t budge anymore.”

And Mr. Tsushima made up his mind.

In the over ten years since then，Tsushima-kun had become Tsushima-san.
Aside from the president，only two or three people still addressed him as 'kimi'.
Without enduring the hassle of progressing from General Affairs Section Chief to Branch Manager，he steadily put down roots right where he was，and now stood firmly established among the ranks of corporate executives.
Strangely，year after year，his superiors kept dropping dead under oddly favorable circumstances，accelerating his subsequent promotions.
Though Mr. Soya’s theory had come to fruition，it amounted to nothing since he himself had died.
Mr. Tsushima alone had pulled off this clever maneuver.
At home too，all three sons had graduated from university；one daughter had been settled in marriage，and another was currently in marriage negotiations.
Though he might appear unremarkable in public as a corporate executive—riding in a company car when going out—at home，his wife’s traditional chignon had grown smaller in exchange for their estate growing larger；with descendants thriving in harmonious abundance，the Viscount Disease had long since been forgotten.
Even when drinking heavily，he remained composed and never uttered a single complaint—not only that，

“Shall I impart to you all the secret to navigating life? It means not voicing complaints. The monster called dissatisfaction—if you let it out through your mouth, both you and others feel displeased. However, if you keep it imprisoned within your heart, it naturally dissipates. It’s like gas.”

He would lecture his juniors.

“People these days seem to have grown overly sensitive.”
“Aren’t the young people these days taking things a bit too seriously?”
“In my view, modern people’s anxieties stem from mistaking small problems for big ones.”

He says such things with perfect composure.

When Mr. Tsushima appeared at the company club, junior colleagues would gather around from all directions.
He was remarkably popular.
With his material needs met and having attained great enlightenment, even his briefest remarks genuinely resonated with ordinary people.
Moreover, it had become customary for those who listened to this executive’s lectures and the president’s gidayu recitations to receive faster salary raises.

“How’s that going? If you still have lingering worries about that life problem we discussed the other day—though I may be of little help—shall I lend an ear to your concerns?”

And without fail, Mr. Tsushima would collar someone.

“One cannot ultimately avoid worries.”
“Recently, when I read a certain book, it stated that anxiety is the privilege of modern people.”

“In essence, life becomes nothing but anxieties.”

Even if they answered evasively, they stood before a corporate executive.
Since no one explicitly stated being troubled by low salaries, matters remained easily manageable.

“Complaints and anxieties—when viewed across time’s distance—all prove fleeting dreams.”
“Reflect later with impartial calmness, and they all reveal themselves as insignificant trifles.”
“You all agonize by mistaking each for some grand crisis.”
“Genuine catastrophes affecting life’s great designs seldom arise.”

“But no one thinks that way in the heat of the moment.”
“I went to the dentist yesterday, but it still hurt.”
“I tried applying your teachings by telling myself it was a small problem—just a small problem—but tears kept streaming down.”

“But wait ten years and see.”
“You’ll find yourself wondering why something like that hurt so much.”

“If it still stings ten years later, there’s no competing with that.”
“It’s just a single tooth’s worth of trouble.”

“That single tooth.”
“If you truly realize it’s just a single tooth, you could fill out your income tax return with complete serenity—clear breeze and bright moon—even while having it extracted.”
“You have to go that far.”

Thinking it was something else, Mr. Tsushima made a rather unreasonable request.

“The ideal may indeed lie there, but the reality is I have to go again tomorrow, so I’m agonizing over it already.”

“You’re acting like a child. We tend to amplify our pain through imagination. Ah yes—the other day while lying in bed, I suddenly remembered something from my childhood. Going for a haircut became such a hardship. Back then, hair clippers didn’t exist yet. Now that I think about it, they used thread-cutting scissors to snip-snip away at it.”

“Around when was that, exactly?”

“Around Meiji 14 or 15, I suppose. With poor tools compounded by unskilled hands, those sharp stings of pain lasting so long made it a kind of ascetic ordeal, don’t you think? I don’t know how many years I have left to live, but even as a child, I thought that enduring this kind of torment once every month would be unbearable.”

“I hated hair clippers too.”

At each pause, there were those who offered suitably timed interjections.

“That’s right. But how about nowadays? Isn’t going for a haircut and coming back looking presentable something to look forward to? I’m an old man, so I’ve given up, but you all still have things to strive for. You could make an impression at the café the evening after getting a trim, don’t you think? At least you can be confident of that, eh?”

Mr. Tsushima made a wry remark.
Everyone couldn’t help but laugh.

“The corporate executive’s life lessons truly stem from your own experiences, don’t they?”

“In my day, we didn’t have things like cafés.”
“But we had our watering holes.”

“No—this is a serious matter.”
“I compared the corporate executive’s life lessons with my own experiences and found they resonated more deeply than I’d expected.”

If some well-meaning soul chimed in with comments like these, the conversation would grow increasingly lively.

“This is most gratifying.
How exactly did that come about?”

“When I joined this company, the anxiety between taking the personality test and waiting for the hiring announcement was beyond description.
I thought it was utterly hopeless.
However, once you actually join, it all seems so natural that I can’t help but find myself ridiculous for why I agonized so much over it.
During that week, whenever I passed by shrines and temples, I would always bow.”

“That’s how everything is.
In short, things can only turn out as they do, so when you look back later on both successes and failures, all that truly remains is the agony you carried.
That’s why you do your utmost and leave the rest to divine will, right?
It’s a long life—even if you don’t struggle, things will somehow turn out as you intend.
Just leave everything to the company and focus on your work.”

While most settled into their three years on a stone, those fortunate enough to have had seniors like Mr. Tsushima conveniently die off were rare indeed.

Saturday nights were lively at the club.
Since they were instructed to build mutual camaraderie through entertainment, new employees considered this one part of their initial duties and flocked to attend.
Senior members played Go and shogi, while the younger crowd generally stuck to billiards—that was more or less the established arrangement.

“Hey, hey! There’s a love story about Mr. Tsushima—come over here!”

And then someone came over to the billiards table specifically to deliver the news.

In one corner of the room, Mr. Tsushima,
“That young woman and I took a mutual liking to each other.”

He had already entered into the main discussion with two or three listeners.

“Since this is the crucial part, could you please go into more detail?”

The organizer lamented the loss.

“We were neighbors, weren’t we? Well, let me gloss over those details and just get to the result. If I don’t act my age and those Go players start complaining, that’d be trouble. I’d just entered university then, while she’d already graduated from girls’ school—our ages were simply too close. I couldn’t very well say ‘Wait for me’ like those Go players do. She must have considered that point too, for she soon married elsewhere.”

“So it was a failed romance, eh?”

“I despaired.
“The world turned dark.
“I truly thought it was the biggest problem of my life.
“But looking back now, that girl had tuberculosis all along.
“Within less than a year of her marriage, she coughed up blood and died.”

“Wasn’t that a broken heart?”

“I can’t say for certain about that part,” he continued. “But judging from how the neighbor’s wife told me of her daughter’s death with tears streaming down her face, there might have been some… inclination in that direction.” He paused, the club’s billiard balls clacking faintly in the background. “I’m not made of stone, after all. On a sudden impulse of pity, I resolved to visit her grave one Sunday.”

“That’s straight out of a novel,” someone interjected.

“Then it started raining,” Tsushima said flatly.

“And then what happened?”

“I called it off.”

“That’s rather heartless.”

“It can’t be helped. Now, if I had married this young woman, what would have happened? That would have been a major problem. We would undoubtedly have been unhappy for life. There are times when what you thought was misfortune turns into happiness, and times when what you considered happiness becomes misfortune. In other words, you can’t truly understand the value of present matters until they’ve become the past. That’s why I say it’s unwise to dwell on them too much. If my reason had been weak, I might have fallen into self-destructive despair over that young woman’s marriage—or even taken my own life. However, from a health standpoint, that young woman would have been a hopeless case to marry. That was a close call, I tell you.”

“Executive, modern people don’t engage in such calculating love affairs!”

“So she died after all?”

“Even if she hadn’t died, canceling a grave visit just because it started raining isn’t something one does.”
“Then that’s not love—it’s a business transaction.”

“This isn’t going over well at all.”
“I suppose times truly have changed. Ha ha ha!”

And Mr. Tsushima got along well with the younger ones.
He was through and through a guide for the younger generation.

The president also entrusted the employees’ training entirely to Mr. Tsushima.
Newly hired employees first received a ceremonial address from the president on their very first day of work.
Following this, Corporate Executive Tsushima held forth with an extended speech lasting approximately two hours.
This had recently become an annual event.
Coinciding with the school graduation season, over forty graduates—from Imperial University and Keio University to vocational schools and First-Class Commercial Schools—had passed the employment exams and would eagerly begin their duties as company employees starting tomorrow.

New employees are hereby requested to assemble in the upstairs conference room at 9:00 AM.

Order of Events for the Entrance Ceremony

Address: President Koyama

Lecture: "Big vs Small Problems"
Corporate Executive Tsushima

A notice bearing this text had been posted at the entrance.

(June 1927, Present)