Pathway to Japanese Literature

I would fish in the vast ocean.

Having worked at the company for over three years, I felt I had come to understand the ways of the world a little.
Through both public and private experiences, I learned various lessons.

In public matters, I realized recognition from above was essential.
It differed from my initial belief of climbing promotion steps through personal effort alone.
While individual effort existed, superiors needed to acknowledge and elevate you.
This meant those maintaining aloof detachment could never escape lifelong obscurity.
Those demonstrating sincere dedication would gain recognition.

In my personal affairs too, sincerity mattered.
I got along well with colleagues.
There were even those with whom I quarreled only to grow closer.
When we had drinks and opened up, everyone turned out to be good people.
The proverb "There are no demons in the world we pass through" struck me as profound.

Let me state my name here: my family name was Tachibana, and my given name Shōzō.
At the New Year's party, Managing Director Nagura had used my full name to make a pun.
Through the lottery draw, I had ended up seated between the President and the Managing Director, like a dog that had climbed onto a roof.
The turn for hidden talents came around.
The President chanted a Noh song.
I possessed no particular talent.
Even if I had, with the President on my right and the Managing Director on my left, it wouldn't have been the same as performing among colleagues.
With no alternative, I sang "Turtle oh, Mr. Turtle" and was laughed at.
Next, Managing Director Nagura stood up,

“You there, stand up if you please.”

Managing Director Nagura said to me.
I stood.
Then the Managing Director,

“Tachibana! Mr. Shō! Been waiting—hoi!”

he declared with a flourish.
The President and senior executives burst into applause.
“Superb!” pronounced the President.
But the younger staff stayed quiet, baffled by the wordplay.
The President rose to his feet,

“How disappointing.
Young people these days don’t understand wordplay.
This is troubling.
I’ll explain.
Alright?
There’s this widely popular phrase: ‘Here comes Mr. Shō! Been waiting, hoi!’
Mr. Nagura came up with a twist on that.
‘Tachibana! Mr. Shō! Been waiting, hoi!’
That’s clever!
Isn’t that quick wit?”

he praised.
At that, everyone laughed heartily once more.

Since then, my full name became known throughout the entire company.
Even among colleagues, there were guys who would pull off the "Been waiting, hoi!" routine.
From this, one could see that Tachibana Shōzō was recognized among the president and executives.
How could I not strive with every fiber of my being?

Now, I had intended to say a word about my colleagues' wives, but when speaking of colleagues, I exclude those bald-headed men who understand Tokugawa-period jokes. Since senior colleagues were reserved by nature, I naturally kept my distance. True colleagues - that is, those on equal terms with you and me - numbered nearly twenty. Half were householders and half were single. What struck me as peculiar was how all these householders seemed uniformly satisfied with their ordinary wives. Though I hadn't met many personally, on those rare occasions when chance introductions occurred, I found myself struck by disillusionment. Given their capabilities, I often pondered - how could this be? There were occasional exceptions. Those very men I considered fools happened to be blessed with splendid wives. The proverb about good wives and foolish husbands rang true enough. Yet these remained mere exceptions proving the rule. My young colleagues without exception kept company with mediocre wives.

When I investigated, I found they were all arranged marriages.
I wondered if such a thing existed.
When presented with such matches, they couldn't exactly afford to be picky.
Since they became content with what was generally available, they ended up taking mediocre ones.
Lucky fellows ended up with beauties.

As for me, it was all ahead.
I would exercise utmost restraint.
I wouldn't play the matchmaker's lottery.
I refused each and every one.
I would find someone myself and marry through romance.
Youth came only once.
I wouldn't fish for carp or crucian carp in stocked ponds.
I would fish for sea bream in the vast ocean.

I’ve been adhering to this policy ever since joining the company, yet there was still no response.
On the contrary，I occasionally made slight missteps.

At first I found myself drawn to Ms. Miwa the typist, and we became quite close.
She was a beauty acknowledged by all and worked exclusively for the president.
Since the "Here comes Mr. Shō" episode, she appeared to have developed an interest in me.

“If it’s Mr. Tachibana, you’re so dignified and would make a splendid impression anywhere,” she told me.
I remarked how strange it was that movie companies hadn’t come to poach Ms. Miwa, deploying flattery.
With confident women, this approach worked every time.
It had been 100% effective.
I’d invited her after work before, and we’d even strolled through Ginza.
After lunch, we often talked on the rooftop.
The company rented the entire sixth floor of the building.

It was the height of summer, with towering cloud peaks looming overhead.
The rooftop view was vast.

“Ms. Miwa, nature is vast, but humans are small.”

I uttered a poetic observation.

“That’s true.”
“What magnificent clouds!”
“They’re incredible!”

“The cloud peaks—Japan’s dreams—have crumbled.”

“Haiku?”

“Yes.”

“Do you write haiku?”

“Yes, I dabble a bit.”

“You’re quite the literary youth, aren’t you—despite appearances.”

“How do I appear?”

“You’re a company employee, that’s what.”

“I’m more about philosophy than literature. A philosopher must be working as a company employee due to life’s circumstances.”

I had intended to impress upon her that my choices differed somewhat from those of the common herd of colleagues. Then the conversation shifted from philosophical questions about life to practical matters of living. The segue had been perfectly timed.

“By the way, Ms. Miwa, you’re surely aiming to become a good wife and wise mother too, aren’t you?”

I asked.

“Yes.”

Ms. Miwa answered without hesitation.

"How straightforward. I thought you had some sort of ideal."

"There’s nothing that troublesome."
"It’s already been decided."

"Oh…"

"Oh ho ho ho."

“Is that true?”

“Yes.
“My cousin.”
“He graduated from Keio University’s medical school and is working as an assistant while writing his thesis, you know.”
“Once that’s approved.”

“Are you going to hold the ceremony?”

“Yes.”

“That’s wonderful news.”

“He’s a very good person.
“Shall I introduce you to him?”

“Ah, no need.
“I can’t compete with this. Ha ha ha!”

I laughed it off.
This was the first miscalculation.
There was a second time, and even a third.
Miyashita-kun called it heartbreak, but it was nothing that profound.
It was simply carelessness.
A mistake.
As proof it wasn't heartbreak, I hadn't sustained even minor injuries.

Among the many young colleagues, I was closest to Miyashita.
He had entered the company two years after me and been two years my junior in university.
The section chief had asked me to look after him as his senior.
I shared a desk with him and provided some guidance.
At first he showed respect by saying "Tachibana-san," but I insisted he should address me as "Tachibana-kun."
Nowadays he exceeded even that boundary—he was apt to say things like “Tachibana, you—”
That was the extent to which we had bared our hearts to each other.

“You—instead of nursing failed romances one after another, it’d be faster to ask a matchmaker.”

Miyashita-kun teased.

“Don’t talk nonsense! This is my life’s great endeavor! I’m going with romance—fishing for sea bream in the ocean.”

Having said that, I was filled with vigorous determination. I told him how many of our colleagues were married to inadequate wives.

“Actually, I do occasionally receive marriage proposals myself, but—”

“But what about them?”

“I’m fully drawn but haven’t released yet—it’s still too early.”

“It certainly is early. No need to rush things.”

“But anyway—my parents are pushing me. My family’s thoroughly ordinary—the sort that wants to see their grandchild’s face soon.”

“Givin’ up on romance?”

“Hmm. That’s a bit disappointing, though.”

“‘But’ again?”
“Hey.”
“You’ve already made progress with it, haven’t you?”

“No—not yet.
Once things begin in earnest, I’ll report without fail and beg your forgiveness.”

Miyashita-kun, unlike an apartment dweller like me, had a house in Tokyo. His father was a veteran government official. He received a pension and was working somewhere else. However, Miyashita-kun would often say that with their tight finances, even if he were to take a wife, they couldn’t afford to hold a wedding reception. Given recent circumstances, everyone was keeping it within the family.

“We won’t have a honeymoon either.”

he said.

“That’s odd. You’ve been talking about nothing but that sort of thing lately.”

Sure enough, my conjecture had been correct.

One day, Miyashita-kun,

“You—I have something to report.”
“The rooftop! The rooftop!”

Miyashita urged.
Colleagues made use of the rooftop at every opportunity.
After having a discussion, there was a guy who said, “Come on, let’s go to the rooftop.”
“What is it?”
“It’s started.”

“Hmm.”
“Well, well. So it’s finally happening.”

“The person named Satō from next door brought it.”
"My parents both say that refusing every proposal isn’t the only option, so I should at least consider this one."
“Mr. Satō was an English teacher for many years and now works as an interpreter for the Allied Forces.”
“Long ago, he published a secret manual, and its success let him build a house.”
“Since we’ve been neighbors for years, he’s on particularly close terms with my family.”

Miyashita-kun began by explaining the matchmaker's background.

“Will you have an arranged meeting?”

“Hmm.”
“Since I liked the photo, I think I’ll meet her anyway.”
“Want to see?”

“What?”
“You have it?”

“It’s not like I’ve been keeping it glued to my skin, but I brought it thinking you could appraise it.”

Miyashita-kun pulled out a large mounted photo from beneath his vest and thrust it forward.
I examined it carefully,
"She's rather good, don't you think?"

“Is she good?”

“This one’s good. She’s a beauty.”

“She may not be a full beauty, but I think she’s quite something.”
“She’s more than just ‘quite something,’ I tell you. Which school did she graduate from?”

“The old-system girls’ school and a Western sewing school.”

“How old is she?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Isn’t that just perfect?”

“I think she’s perfectly suitable.
“She’s the daughter of Mr. Satō’s former colleague.
“Her father receives a pension and works at a cram school around Kanda.
“My situation isn’t much different from hers.
“Because she’s a classmate of Mr. Satō’s daughter, he absolutely guarantees her background and character.”

With that, Miyashita-kun pressed on methodically.

It was nothing of the sort.
He was not seeking an appraisal but a recommendation.
What could I say? Since he seemed on the verge of admitting defeat, I had no choice but to entrust matters to his judgment.
Moreover, since she was recognized as prime stock among the fishing pond’s offerings, I expressed my wholehearted approval.

Miyashita-kun promptly had the arranged meeting.
With that report, I was dragged up to the rooftop again.

"I met her at Mr. Satō's place."
"She's way better than her photo."
"She's tall and the blonde type."
"That's why Western clothes suit her so well."
"You, you know the phrase 'suit to a T,' don't you?"

Miyashita-kun was skilled in English and had a tendency to show off his language abilities whenever possible.

“I don’t know.”

“Suit means ‘to fit’ or ‘to suit,’ and T refers to a T-square.”
“It means fitting perfectly, like using a T-square.”

“I see.”

“Our interests all match perfectly.”

“Did you discuss it?”

“Hmm.”
“We talked for about an hour with no one else around.”
“She seems to play the piano.”
“But if she were to ask me to buy such things, it would be trouble, so I avoided music and talked about literature instead.”
“She says she dislikes novels and prefers philosophical papers.”
“She’s impressive.”
“She seems quite proficient in English.”
“She laughed saying she could at least read canned food labels, but since her father’s an English teacher after all, I might actually be outclassed if I’m not careful.”
“She mixes English into conversations.”
“I was impressed because every instance was perfectly appropriate.”

“So you ended up liking her then?”

I wanted him to stop already.
A thin rain pattered down.

“We decided immediately.
Since her side needs preparation time too, we fixed three months for engagement and set autumn for the ceremony.”

“You progressed fiercely fast, huh? Do they really settle everything at once in these arranged meetings?”

"Well, strictly speaking, you’re supposed to part ways then and have the matchmaker formally announce the decision later, but if you do that, you risk losing your chance."
"In fact, my cousin fell for that very tactic."
"The young lady in question had another arranged meeting the very next day through a different channel, and since she preferred that one, she apparently came back with a clean refusal."

“Hmm.”

“In today’s world, even young women’s thinking has become so adversarial. After getting a permanent wave and beauty treatments, they’ll go on two or three arranged meetings and make their selection from those – that’s how it seems to work these days.”

“Ha ha ha.”
“This one’s a catch.”

“An inch of good against a foot of evil – that’s why you must act on the good without delay.”

“But getting chosen by those would be terrible.”
“You’d be better off getting rejected.”

“That’s true.”
“Upon reflection, I might have acted hastily and lacked proper judgment.”

“It’s a matter of sincerity rather than judgment,” I said. “Since you took an immediate liking and decided at once, the other party must be satisfied.”

“Hmm,” he replied. “She was deeply moved.”

“Well, how auspicious!”

“The future looks bright.” He paused. “Hey, what’s wrong? Your shoulders are wet.”

“You’re getting wet too,” I retorted. “It’s raining.”

“Pardon me.”
“Let’s head down.”

Miyashita-kun had also noticed.

I thought it had been settled with lightning speed. If you parted on Saturday and met again on Monday, your lifelong partner was already decided - it moved at blinding pace. There are those who were healthy until yesterday yet die today. But that was life's transient nature exerting its inexorable force. Marriage posed a different problem altogether. Here lay freedom of choice. Whether man or woman, if one exhausted all possibilities at first meeting, what room remained for romance?

“Miyashita-kun, in the end you had the matchmaker bait your hook and fished from the stocked pond, didn’t you?”

Before I knew it, I had let slip my unvarnished thoughts.

“Hmm. That’s exactly right.”

“To be honest, I was a bit disappointed.”

“Why?”

“You’ve outright rejected the romance that’s the privilege of youth.”

“That’s a bit disappointing, but I’ve given it proper consideration.
“Marriage is also a practical affair of life.
“After all, I thought proceeding solidly and practically would be more reassuring.”

“No harm done if you test every stone bridge before crossing.”

“Hey. Do you have an objection?”

Miyashita-kun's tone grew sharp.

“Well, I don’t have any objections, but…”

“But what?”

“I’ll still set my sights on fishing for sea bream in the vast ocean.”

“So you won’t accept matchmakers at all?”

“Hmm. But I won’t rush. Instead, I won’t rush.”

“I wasn’t exactly rushing either, but when my parents started making noise about it and a perfectly suitable match appeared right then, I thought I shouldn’t let this opportunity slip away. In that case, she’s certainly well above average. She’s intelligent, of course. Even if both households are equally poor without meddling in each other's affairs, the balance holds. Matchmaking would be ‘match’ in English. In short, it's a match. A match means balance.”

“Hey.”
“That’s enough.”

I interrupted.
The rain grew stronger.

Romance Born Afterward

Miyashita-kun began seeing his fiancée.
With work occupying weekdays, Sundays became their prime time.
Though it might seem calculating, I told you I could no longer keep up our association.
I accepted it.
Miyashita-kun would sometimes go to her place, Ms. Ikuko would sometimes come to his, or they would meet in Shinjuku and enter a movie theater.
They occasionally extended their outings to distant suburbs.
He would report all this to me in detail.
I, who listened attentively while offering appropriate responses at each juncture, was quite the good-natured fellow.

“I’ve made a great discovery!”

Then one day, Miyashita-kun called for attention in the middle of work.
Because the desks were lined up, there was no escaping it.

“What is it?”

“The fact remains that romance can blossom even after engagement.
“We’ve become truly emotionally intertwined.
“Sundays feel agonizingly distant.
“I’ve made it a rule to visit her every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after work.
“Conveniently enough, Ms. Ikuko lives in Nakano while I’m based in Ogikubo.
“She never minds when I return late.
“Last night she even walked me to the station.
“Hand in hand beneath the summer moon, she sighed ‘How romantic this night is!’
“I ventured ‘We’re practically lovers now.’
“‘And what else would we be?’ she countered.
“That settled it.
“Old man Satō might as well have vanished into thin air!”

“Fair enough.”

When I was at a loss for a response, I made do with “Fair enough.”

After Miyashita-kun proved his point by verbatim quoting his conversation with his lover,

“You see? That’s exactly why you’ll keep losing out if you stay all wishy-washy forever.”
“If you give up on ocean fish and just angle in a stocked pond, you’ll catch something much faster.”

Miyashita-kun adopted an advisory tone.

“Are you diverting water to your own pond now?”

“Romance can properly develop even after engagement.”
“We have something truly emotionally entwined.”

“How many times are you going to keep saying the same thing?”
“Don’t go sleepwalking through this.”

“I repeated it because it’s a crucial point.”
“Actually, I used to agree with you—I thought the whole matchmaking system was foolish.”
“But when you actually consider reality through experience, I think this is truly the mother necessity bore.”

“That’s strange too.”

And once again, I picked another fight.

“I was wrong. Let me correct that—it’s a great invention born from necessity being the mother. Think about it. Do you really think everyone can pursue romance so readily? They’re busy. There’s work to do. They can’t just keep hunting for romantic partners.”

“You find it through persistent effort.”

“They just don’t come across it that easily.”
“You can tell by looking at our colleagues.”
“Nine out of ten are arranged marriages.”
“That’s nature’s ratio.”
“Let me use an analogy.”
“Suppose people here want to eat eel but can’t go fishing because they’re busy working.”
“That’s why necessity invented eel restaurants.”
“You’ll agree with this too, won’t you?”

“I do.”

“Even natural eels can’t all be caught.”
“It’s not restaurants doing the fishing, but fishermen can’t catch enough either.”
“So necessity gave us cultivated eel farming.”
“After all sorts of improvements, farmed eels today rival wild ones.”
“Arranged marriages work the same way.”
“It’s different from before.”
“We’ve already thrown out the old matchmaking system.”
“Romance greater than any love match is flourishing there now.”

“You’re taking this debate to strange places.”

“You should be satisfied with fishing ponds.”
“Even if you speak of venturing out to the open sea, it’s no easy matter.”
“Even fishermen have days when they catch nothing.”
“Trying to do that half-heartedly is reckless.”
“First, you go to the fishing pond.”
“You catch precisely the fish you want.”
“Once you’ve caught and kept one, romance will inevitably blossom.”
“Heaven’s arrangements are truly ingenious.”

Miyashita-kun, aiming to enlighten him, expounded at great length.

“Hey.
“Tachibana-kun, what on earth are you two talking about with all this ‘cultivated eel farming’ and ‘fishing ponds’?”

The colleague sitting back-to-back with us cut in.

“Ha ha ha!”

“What is it?
“If it’s fishing, I like it too.”

“No—since Miyashita’s engagement was finalized, he’s grown needlessly testy.”

With that, I sought backup.

I couldn’t manage this if I had to shoulder it alone.

Miyashita-kun thoroughly enjoyed the courtship during his engagement period and held his wedding ceremony in September.
He went on the honeymoon he'd said he wouldn't take and took a week off.
However, since this utilized the one-week annual leave he received each year, it didn't require any personal expense.
He didn't hold a reception.
He settled matters simply through an after-the-fact report.

However, close colleagues couldn't remain silent. A dozen or so willing colleagues pooled funds and purchased a set of knives and forks. They carried out their enthusiasm in a way that avoided any sense of obligation, aiming for modesty. I was entrusted with conveying this gift along with our congratulations to their new household.

I had been to Miyashita-kun’s place two or three times. Having arranged it in advance, I headed to Ogikubo early Sunday morning. Miyashita-kun goes on about being poor, but he lives in a quite substantial house. Because the matchmaker Mr. Satō was on my mind, I first came to a stop in front of the neighboring house. My curiosity about it being a house built using an expert manual also played a part. I had to admit it was impressive. The nameplate was weathered and hard to read clearly. I approached the gate and looked closely,

“Oh!”

I exclaimed in surprise.
The plate read Satō Ryōjun.
This matched exactly - full name and all - my former English teacher from middle school back home.
Having known he'd spent years teaching English professionally，I concluded this could only mean one thing - that very same Mr．Ryōjun stood before me now．

At that moment, the gate opened and a young beauty appeared.
Because I had been looking up at the nameplate, she—perhaps taking me for a visitor—gave a demure bow.
Flustered on two fronts, I,

“My apologies.”

With that, I hurried through Miyashita-kun’s gate as if fleeing.
Having thought I should be arriving any moment now, Miyashita-kun had apparently just placed his hand on the door.
I collided with Miyashita-kun.

After being introduced to the bride and fulfilling my duty, I couldn't help but broach the matter uppermost in my mind.

"You... I was shocked."

However, his parents came out to greet me.
I knew them.
After the two withdrew, once again,

"By the way, Miyashita-kun, I was shocked."

“What’s wrong? I thought you came rushing in looking terribly flustered, but—”

With that, Miyashita-kun stared intently at my face.

“I know the teacher next door. He’s the teacher who taught me English at my hometown middle school.”

“Hmm?”

“I saw the nameplate and was astonished.
If you’d simply said Satō Ryōjun, I would’ve understood at once! But with all this ‘Mr. Satō here, Mr. Satō there,’ I never imagined it could actually be him.”

“This is rather startling.
Your mentor, then?”

“He’s more than a mentor—he’s an immensely significant one.”

“In that case, ideal timing.
Do go call on him.”
“Since it’s Sunday, he’ll likely be home.”

“Well—”
“It might be preferable to revisit another day.”

And there was a reason for my hesitation.

“Why?”

“It’s a bit hard for me to face him.
I simply can’t look Mr. Satō in the eye.”

“Well, he is your mentor.
You can’t look him in the eye.”

“Let’s make it next time.
I’m not prepared today.”

“Ikuko-san, the world really is a small place,” Miyashita-kun began, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “To think our neighbor Mr. Satō is Tachibana-kun’s old teacher!” He leaned back with mock solemnity. “No mischief now that we’ve got a watchdog next door.” His gaze slid toward me, lips twitching. “Explains why our friend here’s been dragging his feet, eh?”

He shared this observation with his bride while needling me—a double-edged tease honed through years of office banter.

“You mustn’t say such things,” Ikuko-san chided, though her eyes betrayed fond exasperation.

“Our Tachibana-kun’s the sort to blame others for everything,” he continued unabated. “Claims it’s my fault for not mentioning Mr. Ryōjun by name earlier.”

“I wouldn’t call it wrong,” she demurred, smoothing her kimono sleeves with practiced grace.

“Mrs., I just saw someone who appeared to be the teacher’s daughter at the gate—does Mr. Satō have many children?”

I asked.

"Beneath the eldest daughter are the eldest son and second son, and below them is another daughter."

"He’s quite blessed with children, isn’t he?"

“Oh.
The eldest daughter is indeed very beautiful.”

“That must be her, surely.
She doesn’t take after her father.
When I was his student, Mr. Satō had a face like a lion-mouthed brazier.”

“Ohoho!”

“The teacher’s practically a monk.”

“Is that so?”

“A name like Ryōjun is strictly for monks. We used to call him Ryōjun-bō.”

“The young lady told me her father’s nickname. At some middle school, they apparently called him ‘Enma no Shiokara.’”

“I see. The face of Enma tasting shiokara. That’s perceptive.”

Miyashita-kun echoed in agreement.

“At my school, we called him The Hanged Man.”

“The Hanged Man? What’s the story behind that one?”

“There was a hanged man on the pine tree in the park behind the school. Because his face closely resembled the teacher’s, they ended up calling him The Hanged Man. That’s how I got into trouble with The Hanged Man.”

“I knew there had to be something to it. Confess all your past misdeeds in detail now.”

“Shall I tell you? It’s bound to come out anyway.”

“If you won’t tell, I’ll ask.”

“I’ll tell you.”
“One day during English class, I was called on.”
“It was my third year.”
“While reading aloud, when I came to ‘as quickly as,’ I got the idea to try something and read it as ‘as The Hanged Man as.’”
“Then the entire class burst into laughter.”
“Tachibana-kun, read it once more,” Mr. Satō said.
“Since I’d already won the whole class’s applause by then, there was no stopping me now.”
“I did it again crystal clear: ‘as The Hanged Man as.’”
“The whole class burst out laughing again.”

“Did Mr. Satō get angry?”

"He was furious."
“What do you take this classroom for?”
“Get out!” he snapped.
I was belatedly bowing my head in apology, but when he commanded again, “Get out,” I hastily left the classroom.
At this point, my classmates had fallen completely silent, leaving me to my fate.
“Show-offs end up looking like fools.”

"You must have faced severe punishment afterward."

“No, he paid no mind.
“Mr. Satō had a slightly different approach.
“Instead he actually acknowledged me – when other students got stuck, he’d call out ‘Tachibana-kun, how about this?’
“Never held it against me at all.
“That’s where I miscalculated – thinking he’d be easy to outsmart.”

“What?”
“There’s still more?”
“Interesting, interesting!”

“I don’t want you getting amused by this, but I’ll begin.”
“During my fourth-year final exams, I got caught cheating in the teacher’s class.”
“Ha ha ha.”

“Ha ha ha!”
“What a terrible fellow.”

“Because my cheat sheet had been taken away, I resolved that all was lost.”
“Cheating is grounds for expulsion.”
“However, Mr. Satō whispered, ‘There’s no need to panic. Come to the mountain later,’ and let me continue taking the exam just like that.”

“Were you cheating regularly?”

“It wasn’t habitual, but I did it quite often.”

That was a bitter pill for even me to swallow.
Yet when reflecting on school life, I doubt many could honestly claim they never did it.
The system itself was to blame.
Exams practically beg for cheating.

"You were proper delinquents back then."

"I was no saint.
When you stepped out the school's back gate, there stood the mountain.
It's a park now, but in those days it still carried the weight of its castle past.
I followed Mr. Satō up that slope.
'Tachibana-kun,' he said, 'I've no wish to destroy your future.'
'I'll take full responsibility.'
'When my own supervised students turn dishonest,' Mr. Satō continued, returning my confiscated cheat sheet, 'I've no business remaining a teacher.'
Then came the earnest lecture: 'Do you understand?
You'll mend your ways now, won't you?'
His hand settled on my shoulder as he spoke those halting words.
I broke down completely."

“Hmm. So did Mr. Satō resign then?”

“When the new school year began, he was already gone. But it wasn’t a resignation. He’d been transferred somewhere. There must have been some incident at the school. Several other teachers were replaced too. I think perhaps he showed leniency because his transfer had already been decided, but it still affects me deeply to this day.”

“I see.”
“In that case, I can’t show my face then.”

“The fact that I, a show-off, reformed and am managing to behave properly now is all thanks to Mr. Satō.”
“If I’d been cast aside back then, just look at me now.”
“There’s no telling what would have become of me by now.”
“Even though Mr. Satō was right next door, you never once mentioned he’s Ryōjun-san.”

“It’s because just the family name sufficed.”
“No one goes around stating everyone’s full names.”

“I’m not exactly trying to blame you,”

“There’s no grounds for blaming me.”

“Let’s drop this futile argument. What should we do now? Wouldn’t it be better to stop by?”

“Absolutely! They say parents dote most on their good-for-nothing sons—so Enma no Shiokara will surely be pleased.”

Miyashita-kun added with sardonic flair.

I visited Mr. Satō, guided by Miyashita-kun.
After being shown into the Western-style room and waiting there, my chest pounded.
I'm not such a weak-willed person, but I had reverted to that middle school student from ten years prior.

“Well, well,”

With that, Ryōjun-sensei entered.
Miyashita-kun interrupted me as I stood up,

“Mr. Satō, I’ve brought up an old pupil of yours.”
“Do you recognize him?”

he introduced with mischievous flair.

“Well...
Who could it be?”

“I am Tachibana, who received your guidance at A City Middle School.”

With that, I bowed my head.

“Kitagawa-kun?
Is that right?”

“Actually, I am Tachibana Shōzō.”

“Ah, so you’ve come, Shō-san?
Well, well...”

Mr. Satō nodded repeatedly.
He stopped short of saying "Been waiting for you!" but delivered the same pun as the Managing Director.
As the president had explained, this "Here comes Shō-san" wordplay seemed to have permeated public consciousness.

"I caused you particular trouble as quite the mischievous lad—"

"Not at all...
"What have you been doing since then?
"You're in Tokyo now?"

"Yes.
"I graduated from Tokyo University and now work at the same company as Miyashita-kun."

"Well now...
"You came to visit.
"You've grown so distinguished I wouldn't recognize you if we passed on the street."

“You haven’t changed at all.”

“Oh no, the advancing years have left me quite white-haired.”

The wife came out to serve tea.
Mr. Satō introduced me as his former student from A City.
The wife, having also spent several years at his old post, seemed to find the memories nostalgic and settled right in.
Mr. Satō gave a concise account of his subsequent career and,

“I occasionally meet former students. The other day in Ginza, there was a gentleman calling ‘Sensei! Sensei!’ from behind me. I didn’t recognize him at first – turned out to be someone I’d taught in Kōfu during my first assignment. He’d risen to become an executive at a first-class company. Meeting old students brings such joy. Particularly when they’ve grown into such fine men.”

“Tachibana-kun here is guaranteed to become at least a section chief in the distant future,” Miyashita-kun joked.

“Yet for all your idle chatter, Miyashita-kun, you’re oddly brief when it comes to important matters,” Mr. Satō retorted. “If you work at the same company as Tachibana-kun, you should have let me know much earlier.”

“That would be impossible.”
“I only found out about my connection with Mr. Satō today.”
“Tachibana-kun also only realized you were his mentor teacher today when he happened to see the nameplate at your residence.”

“I see.”

“Somehow, my luck is just bad.
Tachibana-kun is also blaming me, saying it’s my fault for always referring to you as Mr. Satō until now and never using Mr. Ryōjun.”

“Ha ha ha.”
“That’s a bit unreasonable.”

Mr. Satō turned a blind eye to his own part.

A Mentor of Different Paths

The following Sunday, I paid another formal visit to my mentor. I expressed my gratitude with a token gift. When I broached old memories myself, Mr. Satō remembered every last detail. This time his daughter too emerged to help facilitate matters. Though Mr. Satō remained as stern as hell's own brine by nature, his wife possessed finely balanced features. Miss Kimiko likely took after her mother. Miyashita-kun's much-touted 'trouble' paled in comparison. She appeared acutely perceptive, yet I felt my heart stir.

Coincidence begot coincidence. She was my mentor’s daughter. I considered that there might be some strange fate at play. Even so, a question arose: why hadn’t Miyashita-kun proposed when such a beautiful person was right next door? I interpreted that the marriage arrangement might already be settled, but if that were the case, Miyashita-kun should have mentioned it at the beginning of our conversation. I reconsidered that it must still be undecided after all, and on my way back, I stopped by again to inquire.

Miyashita-kun answered that it seemed it hadn’t been decided yet.

“She’s a person of such discerning judgment that her requirements are quite exacting.”

said Mrs. Ikuko.

"What sort of requirements are they?"

“If it's someone in academia, then a doctorate; if a company employee, then an executive; and if a government official, she's likely aiming for at least a bureau director.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! They’re all bald!”

“I haven’t heard it directly myself, but it’s certainly a case of lofty aspirations after all.”

“Hey.”
“Don’t go barking up the wrong tree.”
“Next door’s a fishing pond.”
“Wasn’t your policy to fish for sea bream in the ocean?”
Miyashita-kun drove home his point.

I began occasionally visiting Miyashita-kun's home.
This wasn't strange, given he was my closest colleague.
However, each time, my main purpose was to pay respects to Mr. Satō.
There was another purpose behind that purpose, but I bided my time without acting.
I had achieved considerable academic success in university.
My company position had been secured before graduation, making me different from those drifting aimlessly.
Currently I stood firm in my position.
I had subtly conveyed such credentials to the teacher.

Whether because Miyashita-kun was satisfied with himself or not, he showed no awareness of my feelings whatsoever. Even when conversations touched upon the Satō family, he would only make perfectly innocuous remarks. Mrs. Ikuko too would brush it aside by saying Kimiko-san had terribly exacting standards. There was nowhere to anchor.

Amidst this, I felt compelled to act swiftly. Rather than waiting for time to settle matters, I resolved to dash myself against the rocks if need be. In that case, I truly had no alternative but to cling to Miyashita-kun after all. So one evening on my way home, I invited Miyashita-kun to a certain traditional restaurant in Ginza and—

“You—I surrender to your command.”

I declared.

"What's that?"

"I'll convert to the fishing pond faction, so I beseech you to lend me a hand."

"Miss Satō?"

"Right."

"That's probably hopeless."

“Why?”

“Mr. Satō knows your middle school self all too well.”
“He wouldn’t give his daughter to a student who cheated.”

Miyashita-kun said nonchalantly.
I thought he was a terrible guy.
It was an attitude that made me doubt whether this person was truly my close friend.

"But I've reformed myself by following Mr. Satō's guidance," I said.
"Mr. Satō is a religious man, you know.
He understands how confession erases karmic burdens."

"It probably won't work out so neatly," Miyashita countered.
"If sensei had such intentions, there'd already be signs of it.
Ikuko herself says you and Ms. Kimiko would balance each other perfectly."

"Do I leave a poor impression on Mr. Satō?
From what you've observed?"

"Neither good nor bad, I'd say.
He simply doesn't seem to consider you marriage material at all."

“What if I asked your father to speak on my behalf?”

“Well...”

“Are my chances that slim?”

“Who knows?”

“Well? Give me a straight answer!”

That irritated me.
This was no way to propose a marriage arrangement.

"The fact is, you're putting me in a difficult position."

“What’s the problem?”

“If you’ll absolutely keep this secret, I’ll tell you.”

“I’ll keep it.”
“What’s that?”

“The truth is, I proposed to Ms. Kimiko and got shot down.”

“Hmm? When?”

“It was this New Year’s. It was when I was infatuated with your romanticism. When I properly handed over my letter of proposal, she waited at my gate the next day as I returned home and said: ‘Mr. Tachibana—I’ll return this unread—and I won’t tell anyone. I’ll show you mercy, but please refrain from such behavior henceforth.’ There’s no need for that.”

“Ha ha ha! I was easily shot down, huh? Is that so? I thought there was no way you’d keep quiet about it, but is that really the case? Just as I thought.”

“You, if you tell Ikuko about this, I’ll be in trouble.”
“Things will get serious.”
“It’s okay.”

“It’s an absolute secret. The fact Ms. Kimiko told nobody shows Mr. Satō vouched for my character when acting as matchmaker. I’ve only told you now, so keep this absolutely secret from Ikuko and everyone else.”

Miyashita-kun pressed even more insistently.

“I’ll never tell. Putting that aside, do I really have no chance?”

“Actually, that’s exactly why I’d be in trouble if you married Ms. Kimiko. It would create an extremely awkward situation.”

“You’re misunderstanding how this works. If I keep it secret, there shouldn’t be any issue, right?”

"But then I'd have trouble interacting with you."
"After all, since you got shot down, I'm uncomfortable around Ms. Kimiko."
"That would put me in a bind – having someone I'm uneasy around become your wife."
"After conscientiously considering all that, I've been keeping guard to prevent any talks from starting between you and Ms. Kimiko."

"That's cruel!"

I was taken aback, but through coaxing and pleading, I earnestly entreated him to find an opportunity to bring up the matter.

About a month had passed.
I refrained from pressing him, but one day Miyashita-kun brought a message from Mr. Satō.
It said he wanted to consult with me about something, so I should come at my convenience.

“Have you already told someone?”

“Well, after all I didn’t say anything because it would cause me trouble, but Ikuko—not knowing anything about it—seems to have mentioned it.”

“So that’s how they responded?”

With that hope entrusted, I accompanied Miyashita-kun home from work.

“I’m sorry to have troubled you to come all this way.”

Mr. Satō offered refreshments.

“Not at all. Since I hadn’t visited Miyashita-kun’s place either, it worked out perfectly.”

“The truth is, Kimiko’s marriage arrangements have begun.”
“The suitor happens to be a man you know well.”
“What year did you graduate from Tokyo University’s Faculty of Economics?”

“…………”

I broke into a sweat. Upon hearing this, I learned that Ms. Kimiko’s marriage prospect had graduated in the same year as me. He was said to be an academic prodigy named Sanjō Takayoshi, but I had no recollection of him. After all, there had been over two hundred students in my cohort.

“But since you graduated together,” he continued, “wouldn’t it be easier to investigate his daily conduct through your friends?”

“Well.”

“They presented him as a dependable man and brought him forward, but I can’t carelessly go along with this matchmaker’s arrangement.”
“Please handle this for me.”

I accepted the request, but lacking even the energy to stop by Miyashita-kun's place, I trudged wearily along the path to the station.
What?
To set aside a former student like me who'd been visiting regularly and take up some shady character needing a conduct investigation - my mentor must be losing his grip.
Then I'll give up.

Alright.
After all, I once again resolved to catch fish from a fishing pond—no, rather, in life’s vast ocean.

The next morning, when we met at the company,

"You didn't come."
"I waited for you."

Miyashita-kun said reproachfully.

“I’ll tell you later.”
“They’ve all come around.”

“Last night after that, Mr. Satō came over.”

“Hmm.”

“He thought you’d dropped in and came over.”
“‘I staged a performance, but the medicine proved too strong,’ he started.”
“What do you reckon about this Sanjō Takayoshi?”

“They’re classmates of mine alright, but not a spark of brilliance among them—just dime-a-dozen mediocrities littering society.”

“You’re the thick one here.”
“Try flipping Sanjō Takayoshi’s name upside down.”
“The ‘Sanjō’ part’s a stretch, mind you...”

“…………”

“He said to give us his regards.”

“What’s that? Me?”

“Mr. Satō’s being clever about it.”

“Is that so? The mentor’s approach really is different after all.”

Admiring this, I recognized the first glimmer of dawn.

(June 1951, Kōdan Club)