Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Good-natured people are susceptible to suggestion.
To be sure, even villains are not immune.
Thieves can all be said to be products of suggestion.
No one is born with sticky fingers from the start.
Through some trigger, they come to believe wickedness offers a quicker path than honesty.
When repeated, this becomes a suggestion to live fast and die young, turning them toward evil.
After commencing their trade, they again lead lives brimming with suggestion.
Even a slightly open door gives them the suggestion that entry seems possible.
Hearing a peer committed robbery plants the thought: If he can do it, I should too.

However, this was not a story about thieves.
This concerned good-natured people receptive to beneficial suggestions.
Or rather, it wasn't strictly limited to beneficial ones.
Since they weren't villains, malicious suggestions didn't take root—but utterly mundane ones, neither good nor bad, did.
Upon consideration, just as villains lived lives saturated with wicked suggestions, so too did virtuous lives overflow with multifarious suggestions.
Among these, had one received only the good and followed them faithfully, one might have become a sage—yet in truth, most suggestions people accepted and obeyed were those neither commendable nor objectionable.
Invariably, difficulty yielded to convenience.
For example, at a certain company during an executive's informal discussion:

“We’re all flesh and blood, you see. We’re not machines—isn’t missing two or three days of work in half a year due to unavoidable circumstances only reasonable?”

Suppose he expressed sympathy for those who were physically weak.
The employees who had been listening attentively at the time likely should have contemplated the value of perfect attendance—but be that as it may,

“You—I’ve made a monumental discovery!”

“What is it?”

“Absences of up to three days per half-year apparently don’t affect the bonus.”

Taking this convenient suggestion to heart, they proceeded to proclaim it to their colleagues.
That’s why executives never make such precarious statements.

Fujinami-kun too was susceptible to suggestions of this sort.
The moment he arrived at work and sat down at his desk, he struck a match with his left hand and lit a cigarette.
Both this left-handedness and his tobacco habit owed their origins to suggestion.
Because his wet nurse had been left-handed, he had unconsciously come to favor using his left hand over time.

After that, because his parents made efforts to correct him, he used his right hand for pens and chopsticks, but for other things, he mostly managed with his left.
He began smoking after graduating from university and joining his current company.
Fujinami-kun was a newspaper reporter.

One day, when several colleagues were gathered in a group talking, one of them coughed and opened the window.
He had been choked by tobacco smoke.

“People who don’t smoke get bothered, you know.”

“I see. So Kinoshita-kun was a frog, huh?”

“A frog?”

“A frog?”

“Hmm.
When you make frogs drink tobacco…” He demonstrated by hunching his shoulders inward. “…they pull their heads back like this and cough nonstop.
Then they puke out their guts—I mean literally!” He slapped his desk for emphasis.
“Did it myself when I was a kid.”

Another voice chimed in: “Heard that cleans out their insides somehow.”

It seemed another colleague had similar experiences.

“Actually, I’m a frog too. In middle school, I got sick from a cigarette and nearly died.”

The new employee Mr. Fujinami confessed.

“This is quite the tall tale, isn’t it?”

“It’s true. I collapsed into the snow.”

“Hmm.”

“On a snowy day, I was asked to run an errand and went out.”
“My older brother lent me his coat.”
“I passed through two villages and went into town.”
“When I put my hand into the coat pocket, there were tobacco and matches inside.”
“I think it was a bat.”
“To stave off boredom, I decided to try smoking it.”
“It was my first time ever.”
“I smoked one.”
“Then my head started swimming, and I couldn’t walk.”
“I collapsed into the snow.”

“I see.”

“It was truly an agonizing experience.”
“This was no time for alcohol.”

“Can’t you use your left side either?”

“It works.”
“I’m a southpaw.”

“No, not your left-handedness.”
“It’s alcohol.”

“Alcohol’s no good either.”

“You’re fully formed as a person, huh?”

“When I had collapsed in the snow and couldn’t move, fortunately someone happened by and carried me to a nearby farmer’s house.”

The conversation about tobacco continued on.
They compared how much they smoked.
They had just concluded that the heaviest smoker in the company must be the Editor-in-Chief when he walked in with a cigar between his teeth, making everyone burst into laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"Speak of the devil."
"We were just discussing you, Editor-in-Chief."

"Bad-mouthing me?"

"No, we simply wondered if your cigar isn't as much a part of your face as your nose is, Editor-in-Chief."

“This? Ha ha ha!”
“You’re rather devoted to it.”
“It’s become rather unwieldy now.”

The Editor-in-Chief sighed, but soon,

“However, people who don’t smoke tobacco lack proactive enterprise.
“Consider this.”
“Inhale through—no, through the mouth and exhale it through the nose.
“Those who don’t find this remarkable when they see it as children are inherently lacking in curiosity.
“When it comes to most things, they think, ‘Alright, I’ll try doing that once when I grow up.’
“I’ve been carefully observing this—among non-smokers you’ll find many gentle and sincere gentlemen.
“Gentlemen? Certainly commendable.
“Not burning agarwood or some such thing.
“No mistakes—that’s commendable.
“But among smokers there’s useless lot like you all too—though given our numbers, when push comes to shove there’s plenty of capable men.
“After all, ever since childhood they’ve had the resolve to inhale fire and blow out smoke someday—that shows proactive character.”

and launched into his self-serving argument.

“So is burning agarwood preferable after all?”

“Of course—for gentlemen, well, that’s one thing—but at your level, if you don’t burn something, you’re downright unbearable.”

“Ha ha ha!”

“It’s about acting proactively.”

“Editor-in-Chief, so is tobacco your agarwood?”

Mr. Kinoshita interpreted this literally and posed a question.

“Stupid people are useless.”

Mr. Fujinami listened intently and found himself thoroughly impressed.
Even when I went on visits, matters were settled extremely quickly.
Because I work too hastily, I can’t get my hands on good leads.
Because this coincided with me thinking that if I smoked tobacco and took my time, I could do more effective work, the suggestion took effect immediately.
I’ll make myself into someone useful.
I’ll tackle everything proactively.
So, tobacco it is.
I promptly tried it, but there was no repeat of that snowbound collapse.
Of course, to avoid getting dizzy, I tried to inhale as little as possible.
There were also those who advised that practice should be limited to after meals, since an empty stomach sharpens the mind.
I made diligent efforts to practice even those habits I was prone to fall into.
Mr. Fujinami soon became a full-fledged smoker and obtained the qualification for proactive action.

II

In essence, this man was susceptible to suggestions of no particular merit.
In elementary school, he had outstanding grades, so the teacher praised him frequently.

“Fujinami-kun’s family was one that produced scholars in the past. If you keep studying like this, you’ll become something splendid and make our village’s name resound throughout the land,” he said to him.

“That won’t do.”

“Why?”

“That’s a trick.”

“Trick?”

“Yes.
“It’s the trick of flattery.”

The teacher answered this; however, Fujinami-kun did not accept it.

The elementary school’s playground was situated immediately above the village’s irrigation pond.
Schoolchildren threw stones toward the water’s surface.
It was a contest to see who could throw the farthest.
Despite being left-handed, Fujinami threw the farthest.
One of the confident high school students challenged Fujinami to a competition, but try as he might, he couldn’t match him.

“You’re impressive.
If you join a middle school baseball team, you could become a pitcher.”

he said, showing respect.
Perhaps because this suggestion was neither particularly good nor bad, it seeped deeply into Fujinami’s mind.

When he entered middle school, he immediately began playing baseball.
At first, they wouldn’t take him seriously, but from his third year onward, he gained recognition and became a regular player.
From his fourth year onward, he spent his time mainly on the sports field as a pitcher, making quite a name for himself.
Using his old skills, he still serves as the pitcher for the company team.

One day, his homeroom teacher summoned Fujinami-kun and cautioned him.
Baseball players tend to neglect their studies, but in Fujinami-kun’s case, it was particularly extreme, raising concerns about him failing.

“Sports are all well and good, but your grades keep getting worse.
What’s happened?”

“...”

“If this continues, you might not advance to fifth year.”
“How about studying a bit more?”

“I will.”

“You’re taking the high school entrance exams, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then it’s all the more important.”

The teacher earnestly counseled him.
This constituted a suggestion that studying was imperative for his safety.
But his constitutionally dull receptiveness to such directly beneficial advice left no recourse.
Soon enough, another suggestion would take hold.

Even Fujinami-kun couldn't play baseball on rainy days.
On his way home one Saturday, he was invited to a classmate's house and went.
While deep in conversation, the classmate attached cotton to the tip of a thin metal wire and showed him by inserting it into his nose.
Given that something nearly five sun long could fit into a nostril, Fujinami-kun was more than a little surprised.

“What’s that?”
“That’s...”

“Cocaine.”

“Medicine?”

“Hmm.”
“I have a nasal problem.”
“I’ll eventually have surgery for it, but for now, I apply cocaine and Adpro as a temporary treatment.”

“What kind of illness is that?”

“It’s called hypertrophic rhinitis—the cartilage in your nose thickens.”
“In other words, it’s swollen, right?”
“If you contract this, your mind gets dull.”

“That’s a rare disease.”

“No, most people have it.”
“It’s a disease of civilization that affects those who use their brains.”

“What kind of symptoms does it have?”

“That you’d come to dislike studying—isn’t it strange? As a result, your grades plummet rapidly.”

“Hmm.”

“If your mind gets dull, then your memory probably deteriorates.”

“Is your nose hurting?”

“It doesn’t hurt, but it’s blocked and bothersome.”

When Fujinami-kun pressed his finger to his nostril and tested it, it was blocked.

“Oh. Mine’s a bit blocked too.”

“Most people have it, but they just don’t realize.”

“That’s no good. The left side’s completely blocked.”

“It’s not just the left. The right’s bad too.”

“The right’s not that bad though.”

“Depending on the time, sometimes the right side gets blocked, sometimes the left. If both get blocked, you wouldn’t be able to breathe—that’s why nature adjusts things for you, see? You’ve got hypertrophic rhinitis too, see?”

“No way!”

“It’s progressed a bit. After all, you’re not too fond of studying.”

“Actually, the other day, I was cautioned by Mr. Kappa that my grades would plummet.”

“Isn’t that a clear symptom?”

“I think the responsibility lies with baseball for why I can’t study, but...”

“No, it’s hypertrophic rhinitis.”

His friend had made his diagnosis.

Fujinami-kun ended up being held back at the end of that school year.
The suggestion that he couldn’t study because his nose was bad had taken effect.
Even after the baseball season ended and winter arrived, he continued to be lazy.
Another factor was the school authorities making an example of him.
Because it had long been said that athletes were granted the privilege of mercy passes, they showed no leniency where under normal circumstances some accommodation might have been made.
Fujinami-kun hurriedly had a doctor examine him, but it turned out to be neither hypertrophic rhinitis nor anything else.
The second time through fourth grade, he studied appropriately and made up for it.
Although he failed the high school entrance exam after completing five years, this was something that happened to anyone and was unavoidable due to personnel circumstances.
The following year, he managed to enroll and attended high school for three years without incident.
He played baseball while also not neglecting his studies.
He learned his lesson from middle school.

III

Fujinami-kun, who had come up from the countryside to Tokyo and begun attending the Imperial University’s law department, was initially thriving—but that summer vacation brought heartbreak.
The other party was a cousin one year his senior.
They had gotten along well since childhood.
Because they were the main family and the branch family, they were constantly visiting each other.

“Sis.”

“…………”

“Sadayo-san.”

“Huh?”

“Ha, ha ha.”

“I hate being called ‘Sis’.”

"But you're a year older."

"As for being older, I was born in December and you were born in January."
"It's not even two months apart."

"By Western count, we'd be the same age, wouldn't we?"

“Well, I think it would’ve been better if I’d been born about three months later.”

"Why is that?"

"I don't know."
"Ohoho."

Fujinami-kun was precisely the type whom such suggestions seized immediately.
He thought if he proposed from his side, Sadayo-san would certainly come as his bride.
Afterward, he tested it just to confirm.

“Sadayo-san.”

“Oh?”

“Sadayo.”

“Oh?”

“Is ‘Sadayo’ acceptable?”

“That’s fine.
If I’d been born just three months later, I’d be your younger sister, you know.”

“It’ll be three years from now.”

“Your graduation?”

“Oh.
I’ll be twenty-five, and you’ll be twenty-six.”

“I’m twenty-five.”
“Aren’t they the same?”
“By Western count, we’d both be twenty-four.”

Fujinami-kun returned to Tokyo believing he had finally understood.
He studied hard for one semester.
There was an invitation from the baseball club, but he didn’t accept it.

“You’ve been reborn, haven’t you.”
“Remarkable.”

A classmate from his high school days was impressed.

“There’s a reason for it.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s not just my own doing.
There’s someone waiting for me back home.”

And Fujinami-kun puffed himself up triumphantly.

However, when he returned home during summer vacation, Sadayo-san had become formally engaged to the eldest son of Maruki, the town’s kimono fabric merchant, with the wedding scheduled for early September.
Fujinami-kun was indignant, but it was too late to do anything about it now.

“Kinzaburo-san, you’ll be happy for me, won’t you?”

“Well...”

“If it’s Maruki-san, you should know.”

“He was three years older than me in middle school.”

“He graduated from Commerce University this year.”

“Oh.”
“He’s three years older than me.”
“Sadayo-san.”

“Oh?”

“Are you becoming a bride of your own will?”

“Of course. Do you think anyone becomes a bride purely by their own will?”

“I…”

“What is it?”

“I thought you would wait for me.”

“For what?”

“It’s fine now.”

"Horrid Kinzaburo-san, aren't you?"

"…………"

"Aren't I older than you?"

Sadayo-san pressed her claim of seniority.

"That's remarkably self-serving of you."

“Why?”

“With a flip of your hand comes clouds; with a turn of your palm comes rain. You once said it would be fine if you were younger than me.”

“…………”

“I trusted you too much.”

“Kinzaburo-san, please don’t say such things. Cheer up, won’t you?”

“…………”

“I did put thought into this for your sake, you know.”

“What exactly did you consider for my sake?”

“I set the ceremony date for early September.”
“Since you’d still be on vacation then, I thought you could attend.”

“…………”

“Please attend, and think of me as your little sister.”

“So your age goes up or down depending on circumstances, does it?”

“Please don’t speak such irony.”
“Now, Kinzaburo-san.”

“I’ll give it thought.”

“I’ll be quite inconvenienced if you don’t attend.”

“Why would that be?”

“Because they’re aware we were close.”
“Though I’ve made clear there was no formal understanding between us.”

“…………”

“That’s why if you don’t attend, I’ll be thought strange.”
“Please do this final kindness for me as your little sister.”

“There’s no helping it.”
“I’ll attend.”
“Please do.”
“I’ll take my leave now.”

“There’s still time.”

“Well… The truth is I couldn’t sleep last night. I might develop neurasthenia.”

Fujinami-kun found himself in a fine predicament.
Not only had he lost Sadayo-san, but he was also obliged to attend her wedding ceremony.
They say misfortunes never come singly.
When luck turns bad, it stays thoroughly bad.
He had completely wasted away during summer vacation.
After fulfilling his social obligations and moving to Tokyo, he now found himself unable to study.
The suggestion that heartbroken people develop neurasthenia had taken hold.
Nothing held any interest for him.
He felt himself to be an utterly insignificant creature.
There existed a male classmate perpetually wearing a troubled expression from chronic neurasthenia - when Fujinami inquired about the symptoms, they aligned as perfectly as matching tally marks.
Gradually he became convinced this was genuine neurasthenia.
Yet he simultaneously obtained detailed instructions for a recuperation regimen.
Though fundamentally sound, his strict adherence to these rules unexpectedly improved his health.
For Fujinami-kun - who had never before cared for his body - this neurasthenic suggestion proved a fortunate mishap.
From then on he developed regular habits, his mind growing much sharper.
Having calmly considered and resigned himself to the situation, he threw himself into his studies.
With reasonably good grades at graduation, his employment prospects accordingly progressed without hindrance.

IV

Now, the first suggestion he received upon becoming a newspaper reporter was, as previously mentioned, the matter of tobacco.
Fujinami-kun, having obtained the qualification for proactive action, began to flourish greatly.
However, as he had only recently joined the company, he had not yet reached the point of being recognized.
The dozen or so others who had entered alongside him were much the same.
Among them, he developed a particular closeness with a man named Konishi, another Imperial University graduate.
Since they were in the same department, they had frequent opportunities to engage in lengthy conversations.

“Do you know about this thing called ‘shooting down’?”

Konishi-kun asked as if he had just remembered.

It was when they drifted into a Ginza café on their way back from work.

“Shooting down? I don’t know.”

“At the company, this ‘shooting down’ has apparently been popular for years.”

“What does that mean?”

“Male reporters shoot down female reporters and marry them.”

“I see.”

“Apparently the Editor-in-Chief pulled off a shooting down too.”
“This is something else.”
“Since he shot down a beautiful reporter from a rival paper and made the enemy lose face, that’s exactly why he’s the Editor-in-Chief.”
“Though that was back when he was just a regular reporter, I suppose.”

“Are there others?”
“Such romantic gentlemen?”

“There seem to be quite a few.”
“They say the department head did it too.”

“That seems a bit out of character for him.”

“To tell the truth, I was surprised too.”

“I wonder if they don’t consider it problematic to shoot down someone within the company?”

“If it’s mutual affection, there’s nothing to be done about it.”
“Do you have someone in mind?”

“Nah.”

“You’ve got a pretty serious look on your face.”

“You’re talking nonsense. Ha ha ha!”

“However, there are two or three rather pretty ones.”

“Hmm.”

"I don't do troublesome things like shooting down."
"I'll stay quiet and have them shoot me down."
"Confident, aren't you."

“Of course.”
“I won’t be the one to bow my head first.”

“What sort of area do you want them to shoot you down in?”

“There’s someone called Kajiwara-san, right? If it’s that territory, I wouldn’t mind taking an arrow straight through the breastplate.”

“I see.”
“She’s rather pretty.”
“However, I prefer Ms. Miya.”

As for Fujinami-kun—who had in fact already been watching with some interest—this matter of shooting down began working as a suggestion.

The company had about a dozen female reporters.
However, since some were married, one couldn’t carelessly shoot them down.
Admittedly, those types were mostly older.
The younger ones were limited to six or seven like Ms. Kajiwara and Ms. Miya. Still, having joined the company two or three years earlier, they were senior to Fujinami-kun and Konishi-kun.
He’d heard they hadn’t hired any female reporters last year or this year either.

“Go shoot them down.”

“But they’re seniors—both Ms. Miya and Ms. Kajiwara. Taking down a senior doesn’t sit right.”

“Then I suppose there’s no choice but to let them shoot me down instead.”

“Should I hang a target on my chest then?”

“They might actually outrank us in age too, those two.”

“Of course they’re seniors—they joined before us.”

“No—I meant years.”
“They might be one or two years older than us.”

“I could stomach one year.”

“How dedicated of you.”

“Ha ha ha!”

“This guy’s acting shady.”

Konishi-kun tapped Fujinami-kun’s knee.
Fujinami-kun spilled the liquid that was about to tip over.
He had recently been practicing with alcohol as well.
Konishi-kun was his instructor.
Konishi-kun had a naturally proactive disposition.
The talk of shooting down was an attempt to attract the other party’s attention.
He was relieved that his close friend Fujinami-kun hadn’t set his sights on Kajiwara-san.
He had been planning to shoot down Kajiwara-san.

5

From the first time Fujinami-kun noticed Ms.Miya，he thought she bore some resemblance to Ms.Sadayo.
Therefore，he developed a particular interest.
It was at this point that he was informed shooting down was permitted.
Ms.Miya began to look increasingly beautiful.
He had thought she might be Miya Nanko，but it turned out to be Sadae.
Her very name resembled Ms.Sadayo’s.
He thought there must be some connection.
However，Fujinami-kun was in the Investigation Department，and Ms.Miya was in the Cultural Affairs Department.
There was no direct interaction.
Because their departments were adjacent，they frequently saw each other’s faces.
For the time being，their interactions were limited to exchanging morning greetings like “Good morning.”

“It’s hopeless.”
“There’s no opening.”

Fujinami-kun sighed.

“You create the opportunity yourself.”

“You’re good at this—weren’t you deep in conversation the other day?”

“The daughter of a friend’s guarantor is Ms. Kajiwara’s classmate.”
“I used that as an opportunity to talk.”

“You’re initiating things from pretty far off, huh?”

“If there’s nothing nearby, you make do with what’s available. I used Marquis Nishionji as an opening in the cafeteria yesterday.”

“How exactly?”

“If there were someone who could meet with Marquis Nishionji anytime, any newspaper company would pay 500 yen a month just for that qualification.”
“I talked about that.”

“Doesn’t that have nothing to do with anything?”

“I don’t care about connections.”
“As a newspaperman, I bring up topics that pique interest.”
“Then researching how to meet Marquis Nishionji must be the quickest path to promotion,” she had remarked.
“It’s true.”
“So that’s how we’ll go all out.”

And Konishi was steadily making progress.

With the new year, Fujinami-kun was ordered to transfer to the Cultural Affairs Department.
A heaven-sent opportunity had arrived.
He came to work alongside Ms. Miya.
Meanwhile, Konishi-kun was transferred to the Political Affairs Department and found himself constantly out on assignments.
He spent more time stationed at government ministries than at the company.

“How’s it going? Must be tough trying to shoot anyone down when you’re stationed outside,” Fujinami-kun said sympathetically.

“I already took my shot.”

“That was quick,” he remarked.
“This is surprising!”

“No—haste makes waste.
“I charged in and got shattered.”

“No good?”

“Hmm. I was a bit too confident.”

“You’ve lowered your standing as a man.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? She’s two years older. My breastplate wasn’t pierced—turned out for the best, really.”

And Konishi made excuses for his defeat.

Fujinami began currying Ms. Miya’s favor.
Keeping Ms. Sadayo’s situation in mind, he believed confidence was ill-advised and remained single-minded.
Starting from work-related dealings, he gradually added familiarity and began touching on personal topics.
When an opening arose through Ms.Miya’s initiative, he inquired about age.

“I’m twenty-six.”
“And you?”

“It’s rude to ask a woman her age.”

“Then I’ll guess.
Twenty-four?”

“More than that.”

“Twenty-five?”

“Oh-ho.”
“More than that.”
“I’m your big sister.”

“That can’t be right.”

Fujinami-kun widened his eyes.
He had used flattery.
He considered her one year older.
Since Ms. Sadayo had also been one year older, he had no particular objection to that.

“It’s true. I’m one year older than you.”

“Then I must show you the utmost respect. So you’re my ‘big sister’ by four years.”

"Oh my!"

"Even if you're only one year older chronologically, since you joined the company three years earlier—by convenient arithmetic—that makes you four years my senior."

"Stop it."
"You're turning me into some decrepit granny..."

“Ha ha ha!”

With a shooting-down specialist like that by her side, he couldn’t compete.
However, even Ms. Miya had no intention of remaining single forever, so about a year later, she accepted Fujinami-kun’s proposal.
Fujinami-kun was satisfied, but when submitting the marriage registration, he discovered that Sadae-san was three years older than himself.

“Failed!”

“You have my deepest apologies.”

“You fudged it by two years, didn’t you?”

“But I had no choice.
Because I had initially stated that I was one year older.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“It seems I told a lie, but please forgive me.”

“However, I didn’t think it would differ by three whole years.”

“I tried to refuse by saying I was older, but you insisted you liked older women and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“I said I liked someone one year older.
But it’s not a complaint or anything.
I was just surprised at how thoroughly it was done.”

"What do you mean by 'thorough'?"

"The way you deceived—"

"Oh my."

"How cruel."

For Sadae-san who had missed her marriageable age, underreporting her age by about two years within their private circle was only natural. There existed married women with children who concealed as much as ten years. Women maintained a social age distinct from their registered one. When Fujinami-kun discovered this discrepancy after marriage through sheer astonishment, he could not avoid appearing foolish. Had Ms. Miya been younger, the others would have long since shot her down. These shooting-down aspirants being youths of twenty-five or twenty-six had refrained after comparing her age to their own. By chance association with Ms. Sadayo, Fujinami-kun had attained a mental state permitting acceptance of even a one-year seniority. Having immediately assumed a single-year difference upon hearing she was older, he had never troubled himself to verify.

However, as she herself had said, it was far too late for objections now. The household was harmonious. Sadae-san resigned from the company and devoted herself to domestic support. It had been four years since then, but they still had not been blessed with a child. Fortunately, Fujinami-kun did not seem to feel any lack regarding that. Konishi-kun, who had married later, already had two children and was grumbling about it. His wife also seemed no ordinary complainer. As for Mrs. Sadae, her household being extremely quiet, she had maintained her appearance so well that by then her social age had come to be considered two years younger than her husband’s. Fujinami-kun was busy with work. He was beginning to be steadily recognized. He had grown accustomed to it, and his household no longer felt unusual. The cares lay in his work. Having been with the company for six years, he now thought the real work was just beginning.

“How’s it going?”

Konishi tapped Fujinami on the shoulder.

“Same as ever.”

“I’m asking ‘how’s it going’ after all this time.”

“That should be fine.”

VI

That evening, the two both drank and talked.
It was Chinese cuisine.
They had already graduated from cafés.

The age at which they might newly enroll again was still quite far off.
For the time being, home was the center of their lives.
Despite this, Konishi let slip a tone suggesting he had complaints about his wife,

“It’s no good. In my household, maybe because kids keep getting born one after another, we’ve already entered that period of marital fatigue.”

he complained.

“Everyone talks about this ‘period of marital fatigue,’ but what does it actually feel like?”

“Lucky people like you are enviable.”

“Not finding it enjoyable?”

“You must be having a grand old time.
“When you’re busy feeling grateful for those two years they shaved off for you, I suppose your world stays eternally rosy.”

“Enough with the cheap shots.
“Don’t think I’m satisfied either—not one bit through ten.
“What’s your actual situation?
“Out with it—”

“Who’s to say.”

“Did you two have a falling out?
“I could swing by and apologize if that’d help.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”
“In short—it’s the period of marital fatigue.”

“Do tell me the symptoms of this period of marital fatigue.”

Fujinami-kun became interested.
Depending on the situation, he had intended to deliver a lecture.
But as he listened intently, he gradually found himself drawn in; recognizing symptoms that seemed rather similar to his own circumstances, he succumbed to the suggestion of marital fatigue.

It was not long after that.
Sadayo-san，whom he had forgotten，came up to Tokyo with her husband and visited，bringing two children along.
She said her husband was here on business and she was sightseeing in Tokyo.
Since it happened to be Sunday，Fujinami-kun promptly took on the role of guide.
In the evening，after seeing them to an inn，he said，“Maruki.”
He had also met you after a long time.

The conversation turned to hometown matters，and before he knew it，he returned home late—whereupon Mrs．Sadae’s mood had turned slightly stormy．

“Welcome back.”

“It got late.
Ah, I’m exhausted.”

“You’ve worked hard.”

“When it comes to sightseeing, you realize how vast Tokyo is.
We drove around by car, but there are still so many places left to see—I’ve decided to take tomorrow off work and guide them for another day.”

“…………”

“I told them I conveyed your greetings.”

“Thank you very much, but there’s something I wish to ask you.”

“What’s this? Getting all formal.”
“The treatment’s different, isn’t it?”
“Huh?”
“I mean the treatment differs from what my relatives received.”

“Don’t talk nonsense.”

“Isn’t there a difference? When my uncle came, did you take time off work to guide him around?”

“Wasn’t it you who showed them around back then?”
“Three or four days!”

“Your enthusiasm is different, I must say.”
“Don’t talk about such nonsense.”

Fujinami-kun took the next day off work as planned and served as their guide.
In the evening, another complaint arose.
It was a complaint that this constituted putting private matters before public duties.
Sadae-san, precisely because she had been a newspaper reporter, would not easily concede once she began making logical arguments.
However, Fujinami-kun pushed through using the authority of a husband.

After the month changed, Sadae-san decided to go see a play and requested accompaniment.
Fujinami-kun refused on grounds of pressing company duties.
Another argument began, and his wife seemed poised to win.
She argued that a man who could take days off work to guide his relatives around had no excuse for being unable to spare a single evening for his wife.
Stymied, Fujinami-kun had no choice but to fume.

“If you keep talking back, I’ll wallop you!”

Mrs. Sadae abandoned her plans to go see the play.
Fujinami-kun, being the decent sort, eventually felt guilty and even considered offering to take her himself afterward, but he feared it would become a habit.
This wasn’t the first time.
Since around last year, she had grown strangely strict, enforcing punctuality in his return time.
There was no doubt he had tried to please her from their courtship through their newlywed days, but it would be a problem if she expected him to keep that up forever.
“A husband has both his rights and his worries,” Fujinami-kun told himself, steeling his resolve not to bare his teeth.

One evening， when he returned home somewhat late from work， there was a women’s magazine placed on the study desk.
It was titled “The Marital Fatigue Survival Guide Issue.”
He paid it no mind after merely glancing at the cover， but when he tried to go to bed after drinking tea and talking for a short while， there it was again—the “Marital Fatigue Survival Guide Issue” placed atop his pillow.

“What’s this?”
“This is…”

“Please do read it.”

“Hmm.”

Fujinami-kun had a habit of reading until he fell asleep, so he obediently began perusing it.
Sadea-san was sitting by the brazier.
Thinking she wouldn’t sleep forever, he stretched his neck to look and found she was crying.

“Hey.”
“Sadea.”
“What’s wrong?”

“………”

“What are you crying for?”

“………”

“You should just go to sleep. What a fool you are.”
“After all, I’m just a fool.”

“It’s strange, isn’t it? Just a bit.”

“You are being excessive, you know.”

“Why?”

“Aren’t you being excessive?”

“Go on, explain yourself.”
“Come here.”

Mrs. Sadae moved from the tea room to the guest room that doubled as a bedroom and sat beside Fujinami-kun’s pillow.

“I’ve come to understand your feelings perfectly.
“I’ve come to understand what you meant when you said you liked someone a year older.”

“You shouldn’t say such nonsense.”

“No, I am Sadae in place of Sadayo-san.
“I refused you back then because I feared things might come to this, but then you slid down from the park bench and pressed your hands to the ground…”

“Hey, hey.”
“Hey.”
“You said ‘Please’ and bowed your head…”
“Hey. The kitchen can hear this.”

Fujinami-kun sat up straight on the floor.

“……”

“You should quit it already.”

“I refuse.”

“Anyway, just keep your voice down. The maid can hear. What exactly is it that you dislike so much?”

“I cannot approve of your attitude. Everything has changed completely from before.”

“I don’t believe I’ve changed at all.”

“No—didn’t you who once vowed to worship my footprints later declare you would strike me?”

“That was merely a threat.”

“Then why didn’t you threaten me back then?”

“……”

“When I watched you follow after Sadayo-san—carrying the young master in your arms as you hurried out—I felt wretchedness so vile that tears spilled forth.”

“She’s family, isn’t she? Don’t be ridiculous. It’d be a problem if you got the wrong idea.”

“Whatever you may say, women have a sixth sense.”

Thus, Mrs. Sadae brought forth around ten unfavorable points from their actions over the past year—starting with the matter of Sadayo-san’s guidance—to prove Fujinami-kun’s changed attitude.
Fujinami-kun fixedly stared at Mrs. Sadae’s face and thought her a rather detestable creature.
However, since his threats had been neutralized, he had no choice but to listen in silent resignation.
The one he had once longed for became detestable.
Period of marital fatigue, period of marital fatigue—the suggestion rang near his ear.

Seven

After several dreary days had passed, Mrs. Sadae suddenly relented and spoke up.
Even if not put into words, it became evident through her demeanor.
Fujinami-kun himself had been reflecting a little and was just thinking he must find some way to properly navigate this period of marital fatigue when—

“Sadae,”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“It’s about returning to the past.”
“What if we staged our courtship days once more exactly as they were?”

“What will you do?”

“Back then, you waited for me at Shinbashi Station, didn’t you?”

“Yes?”

“Tomorrow, why don’t you wait at Shinbashi?”
“I’ll come later and we’ll take a walk together.”
“We’ll do it exactly like we used to.”

“That’s utterly ridiculous.”

“Well, let’s completely adopt the mindset of those days and spend the day that way.”
“It’s sure to work.”
“To tell the truth, it seems I’ve forgotten too much of the past.”

The matter settled, Mrs. Sadae waited for Fujinami-kun in the second-class waiting room at Shinbashi Station the following Sunday.
Fujinami-kun had been determined to take time off work for this purpose, but since Mrs. Sadae did not consent, it had been postponed until Sunday.
Mrs. Sadae recalled six years ago while looking at her wristwatch.
The time was exactly noon, just as it had been back then.
Fujinami-kun came out of the ticket gate swinging his cane.
When he peeked into the waiting room and signaled with a glance, Western-attired Mrs. Sadae stood up.
Fujinami-kun started walking ahead, and Mrs. Sadae caught up from behind.

“Did you wait long?”

“Oh.
I ended up arriving a bit too early, you see.”

“Last time I was the one waiting, so today I thought I’d return the favor by making you wait, but I still couldn’t manage it.
I’m particular about punctuality, right?”

“Oh ho.”

“Ms. Miya.”

“Oh hooo...”

“You mustn’t laugh.”

The two of them became actors performing a play.
According to the script, they often went to rather distant places, but for the time being, they made do with Hibiya Park.
Since it was near the office, memories of utilizing lunch breaks there ran deep.
The bench in question remained exactly as it was.
They arrived there and exchanged words exactly as they remembered from the old days.
Fujinami-kun refrained only from theatrical gestures.
If he were to prostrate himself on the ground, people would think it was a location shoot and a crowd would gather.

Because they had come without eating lunch, they changed their course and settled into a private room at a certain restaurant.
The room they had gone to together after their engagement happened to be available.

“Sadae, let’s put on an original act here.”
“I’ll play your former lover.”

“Isn’t that what you had in mind?”

“No—a lover other than me.”

“I’m afraid I don’t keep such things in stock, you see.”

“Imagination will do.”
“You be my former lover.”

“Oh please—must you bring up someone like Sadayo-san?”

“A different lover.”

“Oh? Were there others?”

“No—hypotheticals, hypotheticals!”

Carried away by their momentum, the two ultimately performed it.
Whenever the maid came, they had to revert to being their real married selves, making their frantic role-switching all the more hectic.

"I find myself constantly thinking of you, you know."

"How kind of you."

“They say remembering proves you’ve forgotten, but what can you do when burdened by countless cares? Do forgive me.”

“I won’t forget. Come rain or shine.”

“My current husband’s a perfect fool—utterly hopeless.”

“Hmm?”

“If I’d gone to you instead, how happy I might have been.”

“It’s too late now.”
“We were fated never to be together.”

“But are you happy now?”

“No—how could there be any happiness in parting from you?”

“That’s a lie. You’re taking good care of your wife.”

“That’s unavoidable on the surface.”

“If you saw a place like this, you’d think just that, wouldn’t you?”

Ms. Sadae put on a show of mock indignation.

"That one was by nature akin to a hannya demon."
"How eloquently you phrase such things."

“It’s true.”
“You.”
“What is it?”
“When will you see me again?”

"I have a business trip next month."

“No, I won’t!”

“Hey.
“Sadae.”

“What is it?”

“Aren’t you getting a bit too into character?”
“You—could it be you’ve actually had this kind of experience?”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“If it were just that your acting is good, that’d be fine—but it’s making me worry.”

“I’m fine. More importantly, what about you?”

“I’m fine too.”

“If such a thing happened to me, what would you do?”

“I wouldn’t let you live.”

“Really?”

“Hmm.”
“Let’s stop.”
“I’m starting to feel rather uneasy.”

Mr. Fujinami fell into thought.

Fortunately, he wasn’t subjected to any strange suggestions.
He reflected a little.
He was a man who knew well enough not to do unto others what he himself did not desire.

(January 1935, All Yomimono)