Pathway to Japanese Literature

The Old Veterinarian

I

Kasuya the Veterinarian moved to this Sotode Town at the end of last year when circumstances forced him to relocate.
The entrance had a section of blackboard-paneled fence cut out, forming a gate that was merely a token structure.
The two lattice doors set askew were new, but their poor fit made them look unmistakably cheaply made.
On the right-hand gatepost hung a signboard.
The board appeared handcrafted, and the characters—undoubtedly written by himself—displayed an amateurish, childish quality.

"Livestock Clinic"

Beside the name of the large village, written in small letters, was "Admitting Sick Livestock Upon Request."
The board's newness only accentuated its cheapness, its bedraggled appearance laying bare Kasuya's desolate state of mind.

The geta box in the shallow earthen entryway remained visible from beyond the gate.
Though aged, the house showed no warping in its thresholds or lintels—the foundation having been recently reinforced.

Opening the shoji at the entrance revealed a wooden-floored area of about two tsubo. That appeared to be both the sick livestock clinic and pharmacy. Probably serving as an infirmary for hospitalized animals, three or four dog crates and cat boxes stood stacked in the corner.

There were additionally two six-tatami rooms and one two-tatami room with a kitchenette. That this commanded ten yen in rent showed how astonishingly prices had risen. Yet since it remained far cheaper than other districts, Kasuya had relocated here with satisfaction.

Kasuya was part of a family of four—himself along with his second son Yoshisuke and third daughter Rei—but supporting all four through his current work was quite a burden.

A flat-faced man with small eyes and thick lips—the very image of good nature—he always wore an amiable smile when speaking with others.
No matter how many worries pressed upon him, he carried himself like someone who scarcely knew what worry meant.

His wife presented a stark contrast—pale-complexioned with drawn features that held a lonely air—rarely speaking except for practical matters.
She seldom laughed aloud.
Yet neither did she maintain any pretense of aloofness.

In her youth, when she had held many hopes for the future, she had sometimes been called an excessively aloof woman.
There had indeed been times when she had carried herself with pride.
However, not a trace of that inner pride or vitality remained in this woman now.
What remained was merely the hollow form of her former self—that aloof silence she once affected now preserved only as an empty shell.

By nature a gloomy soul, this woman had never voiced complaints or regrets openly enough for others to notice, yet within her heart she had long harbored anguish and remorse. Now, even the strength of her anguish had drained away, and the intensity had faded from her eyes. Given her upbringing, she retained an air of refinement that made her gaunt, desolate features appear all the more pitiable. She had utterly resigned herself to the hopelessness of her lot in life and surrendered both body and soul to whatever might come—such was her demeanor. Even so, on the night they moved there—without addressing anyone in particular—

“Every time we move, the house gets smaller.”

She kept repeating this to herself.

Kasuya would turn fifty-seven come the new year.
The wife was said to be eleven years his junior.
Kasuya had moved to Honjo, but it seemed he had yet to secure a stable livelihood.

Kasuya’s relocation to his current house with a rent of ten yen—leaving behind the middle-class residence in Shinkogawacho where he had lived for ten years—was the result of a certain tragedy; this move had been arranged by Nishida, a livestock farmer in the district who had constantly sympathized with Kasuya since his arrival in Tokyo and could no longer bear to see his current state, finally relocating him nearby.

II

Kasuya had been a technician at the Shimosa Livestock Breeding Farm for twelve years starting around Meiji 15 (1882). At that time, the Livestock Breeding Farm was under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce. Kasuya was just thirty then—a young high-ranking official who inspired great hopes among those around him.

As this remained an era when veterinarians trained in modern sciences were scarce, Kasuya stood preeminent even among contemporary practitioners. Cheerful and affectionate without bureaucratic airs, he maintained exceptional favor both within the institution and across neighboring villages. The local farmers—partially out of biased admiration—firmly believed Kasuya would soon become director.

Kasuya never removed the Western cigar from his mouth, and his amateurish enthusiasm for playing Go was his sole indulgence, so he was praised by both the elderly and the young.
As much as time allowed, Kasuya responded to requests from people in the vicinity and examined the diseases of livestock.
It wasn’t solely out of dutiful consideration for his work.
For being fussed over by innocent farmers as “Mr. Kasuya, Mr. Kasuya” was a source of joy for Kasuya, a simple, good-natured man who took things at face value.

Through villages peaceful with plum blossoms and rapeseed flowers, Kasuya rode a chestnut horse with a white blaze on its forehead, becoming the focal point of attention among young men and women at the time. Kasuya had always found it more enjoyable to work in the villages with farmers than to perform his official duties at the Livestock Breeding Farm. While considering that such endeavors might even hold nobility when viewed through the lens of his divine calling, he grew increasingly enthusiastic and strove to deepen his bonds with the farmers.

Every time Kasuya ventured out to a new area, he would gather the village youths, expound on how agricultural improvements must necessarily accompany livestock development, repeatedly emphasize that civilized farming required combined crop cultivation and animal husbandry, and urge them to engage in poultry farming, pig farming, and always raise Western cattle.
As these were the words of Kasuya—a man held in high esteem—the farmers of neighboring villages vied with one another to rear livestock.

During this period, Kasuya married the eldest daughter of a wealthy farmer from Sanrizuka.
The current wife was that woman.
The wife’s family, convinced Kasuya was an eminent man destined for greater prominence, felt honored by this marriage and married off their daughter; for his part, Kasuya was simply grateful she came from a respectable family—and so this union was casually formed.
Thus, neither the man nor the woman had any awareness of romantic interests.

From a spiritual perspective, it had been a truly meaningless and shallow marriage, yet in society's eyes it became the center of envy and briefly served as the talk of neighboring villages. And the Kasuya couple too had been intoxicated by their trivial dreams.

III

The transitional period did not last very long.

While Kasuya remained engrossed in the scene right before his eyes, the era behind him had relentlessly progressed.

From places like Sapporo Agricultural School and Komaba Agricultural School, new prodigies in agriculture and veterinary science were emerging in droves.
When Dr. Katsushima, Doctor of Veterinary Medicine, led dozens of soon-to-graduate students from Komaba Agricultural School on an inspection tour of the Livestock Breeding Farm, everyone from the teachers down to the students paid Kasuya no more heed than if he were invisible.

By the time Kasuya became aware of the desolation surrounding him, it was already too late.
Kasuya had been left far behind by the march of time.
The idea of aspiring to become director had come to seem utterly inconceivable.
Even his current position now felt like it was beginning to waver.
Kasuya, who had never known how to fret over things, now found himself suddenly unable to suppress pangs of remorse—there came nights when sleep eluded him.
One night, tormented once more by the anxious thoughts that had become routine, Kasuya found himself unable to sleep.

Indeed, I had been careless.
I had worked thinking it was for the nation.
I had worked thinking it was for the livestock industry.
I had worked thinking it was for the people.
But I had worked with scarcely any thought in my heart that it was for myself.
How careless I had been!
It was too late—too late for everything.

While thinking this, Kasuya acutely felt he had two children and turned to look at his peacefully sleeping wife and children.
Gichi, the eldest son, slept soundly, his plump glossy red face slipping off the futon.
The wife slept with an untroubled expression, her three-year-old second son held endearingly close to her chest, his tousled hair pressed against her soft white locks.
Kasuya grew unbearably lonely.

Though I had borne no ill intent whatsoever, I was aware that when she married into my family, my wife had placed great hopes upon me. Even when such words had surfaced, I had gotten carried away and offered empty reassurances at times.

When I recalled various things from the time of our marriage onward—the pitiful feeling I had toward my wife, the shameful feeling toward my father-in-law and mother-in-law—each one tormented me. When I thought that the inevitable time when they should be disappointed and disheartened was already pressing before my eyes, my guts churned as if boiling and tearing apart. Even if I considered that I'd committed no sin whatsoever, I could not believe the painful facts grew any lighter because of it.

Kasuya now belatedly regretted that he too had given far too little thought to his marriage at the time.
Had my marriage been one founded purely on mutual affection between two people—not using household status or social position as criteria—then even amidst disappointing changes in my standing, we might have comforted each other through marital bonds, finding solace from the bitterness of disillusionment. But as things stand now for me, there remains not only little hope of this, but rather the loneliness of being cast aside by the era grows more agonizing still, compounded by the disagreeable, inexpressible pain that must inevitably arise between husband and wife.
When I consider it all—every last bit stems from my own carelessness that I sought out and cannot escape—it is what one might call a self-made calamity...

I had thought that things like love were utterly foolish, but a marriage lacking in love was truly foolish. Rather than mere foolishness—it was now because of that rash marriage that I had to endure unbearable, loathsome suffering.

Having thought this, Kasuya once again looked at the sleeping figures of his wife and children. They slept as if firmly pressed down by something heavy.

When I too am finally dismissed from office and my path to advancement is decisively cut off—what will she do? What attitude will they adopt? And what will become of our marital relationship in such circumstances? If we were to separate outright, it might bring some peace of mind—but no, it was likely those two boys would keep us unwillingly bound as husband and wife.

"There's nothing to be done."
"Because I can't do anything about it"—"Because there's no choice but to resign myself"—must I really maintain this utterly dreary, icy household with such feelings? Ah, how I hate even considering this...

That I had carelessly lingered in that transitional era meant, in essence, that I'd lacked foresight...
Even were I to leave this post, supporting my wife and children would prove difficult enough—but there's no helping it. I must abandon these fruitless speculations about what will become of us."

Wearied by his thoughts, Kasuya let out an involuntary sigh—"Ah, ah."
After thinking that the maid shouldn’t wake up, Kasuya managed to sleep a little.

IV

The next morning, he rose just in time to make it to work.
His complexion must have been quite poor,

“Is something wrong?”

the wife chided.
Kasuya grunted a denial and went out to the wellside.
After hurriedly finishing his meal and beginning preparations for work, the two children swarmed around their father from all sides.

“Dad! Dad!”

“Ton-chan! Ton-chan!”

Though Kasuya found the children unbearably noisy today alone—precisely because this doting father had unfailingly lavished affection on them every morning before work—he couldn’t bring himself to scold away their innocent attempts to seek his attention as usual.

“I’m late today, so I need to hurry.”

Even when he made a slightly stern face, the children showed no sign of heeding him. Kasuya grew increasingly irritated, yet couldn’t bring himself to raise a hand.

“Please hold them just a little—even for a moment—please hold them.”

Compelled through this forced transfer from his wife, Kasuya smiled reluctantly and reluctantly held Yoshisuke.
Then he immediately returned him to his wife.
Even during this brief exchange, Kasuya averted his eyes from his wife and stole a glance at these guileless mother and child.
And so it was that a lonely, fleeting pain welled up in his chest.
His heart pounded so violently that breathing became stifling; he could no longer maintain his own posture.
Kasuya,

“It’s too late!”

He masked his unsettled manner with words as he stepped outside. No sooner had he emerged than Kasuya let his tears fall silently. He thought to himself that he had come within a hair's breadth of his wife seeing those tears.

Kasuya spotted the janitor at the office entrance. Though the man always offered polite greetings, this morning he walked straight past without acknowledgment. A pang of discomfort struck Kasuya. Upon entering the office, he felt the director's gaze upon him - and those of every colleague too. Usually,

things like "Mr. Kasuya, please handle it this way," or

“Shall we take care of this?”

...or what should have been their usual casual exchanges—now conducted their business discussions with unnatural formality and authoritative tones.
Kasuya could no longer maintain his composure to handle official duties.

He wondered whether his dismissal notice might already have reached the director’s desk.
He tried convincing himself there was no way they’d discharge him so quickly.
Kasuya feigned nonchalance at his desk, repeatedly standing to ask colleagues about matters he already understood perfectly.

The director was conversing with colleagues in a low voice that he couldn't quite catch, and Kasuya felt a sense of foreboding. Even during this time, he couldn't help but keep recalling in fragments the thoughts he had been pondering the previous night. When he saw everyone working in silence, he couldn't suppress the thought that he was being cast out.

When he heard the director speaking loudly about something to someone nearby, it turned out to be talk of how one of the Komaba Agricultural School graduates would come to this office as a technician soon after entering next month. Kasuya involuntarily shuddered. They went on to discuss how someone from Chiba Prefecture and someone from Saitama Prefecture had also been dismissed from office. They were all veterinarians from the same background as Kasuya and acquaintances of his. Kasuya wondered whether the director's remarks just now were an indirect criticism aimed at him.

Kasuya deeply regretted that he had become a necessary component in the midst of a transitional period and taken on makeshift duties.
Tears had moistened his eyelids before he knew it.

When Kasuya was staring blankly, the director and clerks began tidying their documents and preparing to leave.
Because he couldn’t understand why, Kasuya grew flustered and glanced around anxiously.
At last, from the people’s demeanor, he realized it was Saturday.
Kasuya had until this very moment forgotten that today was Saturday.

Kasuya stood up as if awakened upon realizing it was Saturday.
Ah yes—he’d completely forgotten. At any rate, this worked out well. He would go to Tokyo today without delay and consult him. Dr. Tokishige would show concern—something would surely be arranged. If he could stay in Tokyo, even in a lower position, he could continue his studies. He wanted to transfer posts if possible without receiving that wretched dismissal notice. He’d eat quickly and set out immediately.

When Kasuya settled on this line of thought, his body found its balance as though steadying faltering steps.
With strength filling his strides, he returned home greatly invigorated.

“Ton-chan! Ton-chan!”

The voice carried its usual adorable quality.

When Kasuya carried Yoshisuke to the back and entered, the old Go-playing companion was sitting there.

“Today, Doctor, I’ve come fully intending to get my revenge from our last match.”
“When it gets this pleasantly warm, I just can’t stay cooped up at home all the time.”

The old man paid no attention whatsoever to Kasuya’s gloomy expression and went on saying whatever he wanted to say.
Since Kasuya intended to go to Tokyo in his office clothes, he did not even remove his Western suit and sat facing the old man while still holding the child.

“This is a most gracious visit, but I’m actually planning to go to Tokyo shortly… Terribly regrettable, but…”

“Oh, that’s a shame. A day trip, is it?”

“I won’t be returning tonight.”

“Well then, as long as you reach Tokyo today, that’ll suffice.”
“Playing two or three games before setting out won’t make you late.”
“Even if you scheme to slip away neatly, that path’s closed.”

To the retired farmer enjoying his leisurely life, there was no way to comprehend what now filled Kasuya's heart. Though it pained him, this was an old man with whom he had always interacted unreservedly—he couldn't bring himself to refuse outright. Moreover, there lingered a naive notion that should he abruptly change his manner, his present anxiety might be exposed.

In the end, he resolved to play two or three matches. When one falls into circumstances like Kasuya's, they find nothing but pain whichever way they turn.

Kasuya went to Tokyo that evening and requested Dr. Tokishige’s assistance with his aspirations.

“Hmm, if you want to study a bit more, coming to Tokyo would naturally be the advisable course. If you don’t insist on a particular position, something might be arranged. But people like you—those who patched together their education—all seem to be struggling. Studying further is indeed most necessary.”

Kasuya made uncharacteristically polished remarks and uttered frivolous words that brought cold sweat even to himself, repeating his pleas dozens of times before finally taking his leave.

“And I’m supposed to be a high-ranking official?”

Kasuya belittled himself and looked back at Dr. Tokishige’s gate.
There had been times when he’d thought himself nearly equal to Dr. Tokishige, but now he couldn’t help recognizing the vast distance between them.
Should I abandon my wife and children and resolutely restart my studies? That would certainly surprise people.
Shall I try it? How interesting—shall I make this resolute attempt?
If that wife would take both children to Sannrizuka, it would be convenient—but would she agree?
I wish I could become single and try studying anew.
There’s only one child.
The other would undoubtedly be taken by my wife.
I should try doing this most resolutely.

Kasuya, driven to desperation, tried entertaining such thoughts, but they too did not last long. Soon he slumped again, finding meager solace only in clinging to Dr. Tokishige’s words: “Something will work out.”

Kasuya was thoroughly exhausted by anguish.
Setting aside concerns about the distant future, he had to seize some small solace—a diversion to forget, if only briefly, the torment of this exhaustion—or else he simply couldn’t endure it.
If a drinker would immediately take to drink at such times, but Kasuya could not handle alcohol in the slightest.

Kasuya finally visited a close friend in Kagurazaka.
And so he endeavored to seek interest in conversations far removed from the troubles he was grappling with, deliberately making a fuss over trivial matters, and enjoyed a night of mediocre Go games.
The following day, he enjoyed mediocre Go games again.

After that, Kasuya made sure to go up to Tokyo every Sunday without fail.
Even when there was no particular business, he continued to go up to Tokyo.
Although farmers from the villages near the Livestock Breeding Farm kept urging him to come—whether because their cows were a bit unwell or to hold Go gatherings—he did not set foot in the villages at all.
Even when people came to visit on Saturdays and Sundays, he generally avoided meeting them.

After feeling a profound pain in his heart, he could no longer bear socializing with carefree, unhurried farmers.

Before Kasuya could finally secure a position in Tokyo, he received his notice of dismissal in early April.

V

He appeared at the Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce; he appeared at the Metropolitan Police Department.
All were too low-ranking for him to endure even two years before quitting.
Eventually some dairy farmers in the prefecture took initiative and established an organization called the Livestock Hygiene Association.
Seizing upon Kasuya’s idleness, they made him its chief veterinarian.
From then on, Kasuya abandoned aspirations for advancement and settled into a mediocre existence.
He kept up amiable smiles, a Western cigar clenched sideways in his teeth as he played makeshift Go games without uttering a single complaint.

Only once did Kasuya lay bare before his wife that he no longer harbored grand ambitions, telling her that if she found his present self lacking, she could do as she liked. Afterward, even when complaints came from her, he refused to engage; even when faced with her cold, awkward gestures, he indifferently let them pass. Thus he lived in Shin-Ogawamachi for over ten years.

When Kasuya’s standing became firmly fixed as nothing more than an ordinary veterinarian, it was ultimately his wife who could not accept this reality. This should never have come to pass. Why had the eldest daughter of a wealthy family from Sannrizuka ended up merely a veterinarian’s wife? Even if he had left the Livestock Breeding Farm, she had believed he could at least become a minor high-ranking official in Tokyo. The thought of facing relatives as nothing but a small-town veterinarian’s spouse made resignation impossible however she considered it. And so from dawn till dusk, gloominess clung to her unrelentingly.

On every possible occasion, she would go consult with her parents back home once or twice a month.
No matter how many times she repeated these consultations, the woman who had become a mother of three could no longer take action.
She would always return home after being told the same stale comforts by her parents and siblings.

It was bad luck—a cursed fate.
In this world where countless people died young,
she must resign herself.
There was no path but resignation.
Even after repeating this admonishment a hundred times—a thousand times—she still couldn’t bring herself to find any joy in her days.

Since Kasuya never showed displeasure no matter what his wife did, even she would occasionally become aware of her own selfishness,

“I must admit I have an ill-natured disposition—though I’m fully aware of this flaw in myself—but try as I might, I simply cannot bring myself to find any pleasure in today, and I keep acting disrespectfully toward you.”

there were even times when she would utter such indirect apologies in roundabout terms.

When hearing accounts from those who had known Kasuya since his Livestock Breeding Farm days, it was said his wife had changed so drastically in appearance and demeanor from her time at the institution that she seemed nearly a different person—that she hadn’t been such a gloomy figure before.

While people claimed this lay beyond any parent’s influence, seeing their daughter’s very countenance altered due to anguish meant that as her own parents, they could not help worrying.

In the end, the parents gave all their retirement funds to their daughter,

“Educate the two boys to the fullest, resign yourself to your circumstances, and find fulfillment in their advancement.”

they instructed her thus.

Kasuya’s wife too finally glimpsed a ray of light ahead, her heart finding slight composure.
The long-standing gloom finally began to lift, and a faint light and warmth came to Kasuya’s household.
The Livestock Hygiene Association also had a considerable income.
Just from the neighbors being heard say things like

“Mrs. Kasuya’s such a gloomy person, isn’t she?”

With it being said to that extent, six or seven years of lukewarm, peaceful days passed by.

Gichi, the eldest son, turned sixteen, and it was finally decided his studies were hopeless.
He had fled to Hokkaido and was working as a cowherd.
The parents from Sannrizuka had also passed away one after another.
The heir-apparent younger brother looked down on Kasuya, and it became clear that even if he came to Tokyo, he wouldn’t visit unless there was business.
The wife’s face grew even paler.

VI

It was the end of November.
No sooner had the north wind died down than mouse-gray clouds closed low over the sky, making it an unpleasant afternoon that seemed poised for snow.

Kasuya sat facing his desk, staring vacantly into space as he blankly pondered.
The wife sat diagonally across from her husband, hands tucked into sleeves and pressed to her chest, mouth tightly shut, positioned almost like a doll.
One might imagine creating a painting or sculpture titled 'Dissatisfaction' using this person as its model.
The two did not exchange words for some time.

The third daughter, Reiko, came home.

“I’m home, Dad. I’m home, Mom.”

Even when she smiled and bowed, the father and mother did not say a word.
Reiko glanced at the parents’ faces and slipped out into the next room.
Next, Yoshisuke returned home.
Instead of going to his parents, he entered the kitchen and kept pestering the maid incessantly.

“That Yoshisuke is back… Yoshisuke… Yoshisuke.”

“Today, you really can’t afford to be half-hearted about this.”

“Hey, Yoshisuke!”

Father’s voice was uncharacteristically harsh. Yoshisuke sat down in the corner of the room, squirming his body while stealing furtive glances at his parents’ faces from under his brows. No sooner had he sat down than he was already looking elsewhere. The mother wordlessly stood up, seized Yoshisuke’s hand, and pulled him closer to his father.

“Yoshisuke… You met Mr. Ogawa on your way home just now, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I see. Mr. Ogawa is your guarantor, you know. The school has had something to say about you two or three times already, and today they went into all sorts of things regarding you. I just returned home, but I was supposed to run into you immediately—no, never mind that. How old are you now?”

Yoshisuke formed a scornful sneer in his eyes at these words from his father.

“You shouldn’t have to ask others about your own son’s age...”

“Yoshisuke! What kind of talk is that?”
“That’s disrespectful to your father!”

“But you’re the one asking pointless questions...”

“Shut up, you brat…”

The parents’ hands were trembling now, their lips quivering too much to form the next words immediately.
The mother stared unblinkingly at her own child’s face.

“Yoshisuke, you do remember everything, don’t you?”
“From what I heard today from Mr. Ogawa, he’s been summoned to the school three times already because of you.”
“Yesterday even the principal came out, saying he wanted to speak once more with your parents and admonish you personally.”
“They apparently said they’ll order immediate expulsion if there’s any further misconduct.”
“What exactly did you do?”
“Gichi turned out hopeless as you can plainly see.”
“If we were to pin our hopes on you alone from now on—this is what happens! We’ve even received warnings from the police because of you.”
“No matter how much I tell you to quit your night prowling, you never stop.”
“You need to be roused five or six times every morning.”
“It’s no wonder your school marks are so wretched.”
“We kept thinking ‘once he turns fifteen,’ then ‘once he turns sixteen,’ but you only grow worse with age.”
“Look at your mother—she’s wasted away to this state worrying over you.”
“At your age, you should have some inkling of your parents’ struggles by now.”

“Mom’s been skinny from the start…”

The mother, the moment she heard Yoshisuke’s insolent words, let out a sharp cry and collapsed into tears.
The father’s face also turned pale, unable to form words.

“Father, I have some business to attend to in Nishikimachi, so I’ll be going out.”

With that, Yoshisuke started to get up.
Even Kasuya, who could never act decisively in anything, flared up in fury at Yoshisuke’s utterly insensitive words.

“You bastard… You insolent brat…”

Kasuya suddenly stood up, yanked his child down at his feet, and rained blows indiscriminately.
Yoshisuke fought back with a tone and attitude as if he were quarreling with a stranger.
His mother, who had been watching with her limbs trembling uncontrollably, lowered her voice into one filled with resolute determination: “You—kill him.”
“Kill him.”
“I will take the blame.”
“Please, kill him.”
“I have no reason left to live—if you won’t kill him, I’ll do it myself….”
With this shout, Mother fled to the inner room.
Reiko and the maid ran outside sobbing.
Kasuya involuntarily loosened his grip upon hearing the word “kill.”
Yoshisuke screamed “Kill! Kill!” while stumbling, but the moment he saw the murderous resolve on his mother’s face, he turned pale and fled.

Reiko rushed in from outside and clung weeping to Mother.
She clung desperately, weeping and refusing to let go.
Kasuya also sat down and restrained the wife in a booming voice.
The neighboring couple also rushed in, and the commotion finally subsided.

Kasuya's hands were still trembling.
Reiko simply shook uncontrollably as she watched over Mother.
Mother had nearly lost her senses in her frenzied state, breathing in ragged gasps.
No one spoke a coherent word.

Finally, Kasuya,

“Mr. Masuyama (the neighbor)—oh my, I’m thoroughly ashamed of this situation and find myself at a loss for words.”

“No need to explain—I can well imagine... Truly most distressing—but Mr. Kasuya, acting recklessly now would make things irreparable. Since your wife is in such an agitated state, perhaps it would be best to let her rest awhile.”

“I’m deeply mortified.”

The wife, who had appeared almost beyond human recognition, was comforted in various ways by Reiko, the maid, and Mrs. Masuyama, and obediently went to bed.
Eventually, the Masuyama couple also returned home.

Afterwards came a milkman from Fukagawa—having arrived by carriage due to a uterine prolapse case.
Unaware of the household’s turmoil, he pressed urgently.
Kasuya vacillated helplessly, too flustered even for formalities, pacing in distress.

The uterine prolapse had apparently lasted over six hours.
It involved his most prized cow, leaving him frantic with worry.
Though not quite deranged, Kasuya agonized over abandoning his critically unstable wife to the maid and child’s care, plunging into utter bewilderment.
At this precise juncture, Nishida slipped unannounced into the room.
Recognizing the Fukagawa dairyman apparently as an acquaintance, he offered a casual “Hey” before barging in unceremoniously.

“So this is how things stand at home—quite a state you’re in.”
“Actually, I’ve found someone suitable to manage the household since.”

At the sound of Nishida’s voice, the atmosphere in the house changed in an instant.
The gloomy air seemed to thin out in an instant.
Kasuya tersely explained to Nishida the day’s events that had led to their current predicament.

“Hmm，you’re a pitiful man yourself．No wonder your wife couldn’t help it．”
“Ah，your poor wife too．”

The tender-hearted Nishida had already moistened his eyes．
Reiko also came out and silently bowed．
Nishida remained standing．

“If it’s a uterine prolapse, acting sooner would be best.”
“Kasuya-kun, your duties are important.”
“I’ll look after things here, so go to Fukagawa right away.”

Nishida said this abruptly and entered the wife’s bedroom.
The wife, upon hearing Nishida’s compassionate voice, regained her senses as though awakening from a dream.
Then she got up and bowed to Nishida who had entered.

“I’ve just heard a brief account from Kasuya-kun, but you mustn’t fixate on a single course of action.”

The wife said in a thin voice, weeping profusely, “Thank you very much.”

“Well then, Mr. Nishida—I’ll be going out for a bit. I’m counting on you.”

With that, Kasuya called out from beyond the sliding paper door and left.

Nishida spoke to the wife about the former house in Sotode-machi, his work methods after moving to Honjo, and even his intention to settle the overdue rent here for them—comforting her through these matters.

Even if one hopes to find happiness by raising splendid children, such hopes prove unreliable; human happiness must instead be sought only within what one can achieve oneself.
As he explained how clinging to unreasonable hopes makes people overextend themselves, thereby courting hardship and suffering, the wife felt her heart open completely to Nishida's kindness.

Kasuya returned around nightfall.
Nishida, unable to bear the thought of leaving, decided to stay and talk through the night.
When evening deepened, Reiko and the maid’s laughter seeped through the walls.
The wife too rose and assisted in preparing food and drink.

Though no drinker himself, Kasuya kept Nishida company over cups while recounting the pitiful state of the household he had just visited—a certain man’s family in Fukagawa.

Their only son had taken a bride, and when a grandchild came, the daughter-in-law died.
Soon after, the son too fell ill.
That very day, a certain doctor had come.
The diagnosis was stomach cancer—the whole house wept in despair.
The cow’s condition could be managed, but for the son there was no hope left.
As the mother wiped her tears with an apron and served tea, Kasuya sighed heavily, murmuring that nowhere did good fortune reign unbroken.

Nishida was at a loss for how to respond,

“You should consider it fortunate that you have a friend like me.”
Nishida blurted out.
“That is indeed so.”
And the wife said with great emphasis.
Yoshisuke came up from the kitchen around ten o'clock and slipped quietly into his room.
The click-clack of Go stones could be heard until past midnight.