Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Fuse Hansaburou took over twenty days to find that deep pool.

The Kanogawa River had many fishing spots; his hired companion Danpei had said, “There are thirty-eight of them.”
Hansaburou had looked around them all, but only that deep pool met the conditions he sought.
It lay beneath a cliff some seventy shaku high.
There was no path other than clambering down via rocky projections and tree roots.
The opposite bank too was a similar cliff, the deep pool shaped like a tapered sack.
The river curved from the right into the pool, passed through its still waters, then bent left to flow downstream.
Thus the pool stood utterly isolated from all else—one could say there was no fear of human intrusion.

Hansaburou nodded with satisfaction.
He stood on the flat rock at the base of the cliff, observed the river's flow and the stillness of its backwaters, and surveyed the condition of both banks.

“Perfect.”
He said, “It’s practically tailor-made.”

The next day, Hansaburou prepared and set out.

The fishing gear had been brought from Edo.
A rod and bait box placed into a bag.
There was no fish basket; his fishing required none.
Danpei, his hired companion, thought the master must have forgotten it.

“Master,” Danpei said, “if I may ask—aren’t you bringing a fish basket?”

Hansaburou simply said “Yeah,” and left without turning around.

“Strange master…”
Danpei muttered, “Can’t figure him out—what’s he even thinkin’... Ah well, ain’t my business.”

Danpei scratched the back of his head, wiped his nose with his hand, and headed around back to chop firewood.

From the castle town to that deep pool was approximately one ri and twenty chō.
The first ri consisted mostly of flat paths through rice fields, then became sloping roads, with the final five or six chō forming an especially steep ascent.
With the rainy season having ended, the sun beat down fiercely—the flat stretches kicked up dust, while the slopes left him drenched in sweat.
And then there was the cliff descent itself, made arduous by his fishing rod and bait box.

"If you get touched like this, it must tickle—probably."

While resting midway down the cliff, he muttered.

“It might tickle, hey,” Hansaburou said to the cliff, “but please don’t shake me off.”

When he reached the bottom, a river breeze greeted him; he took out a hand towel for the first time, wiped away the dust and sweat, then sat down on a flat slate rock in the shade and waited for his sweat to dry completely. Then, after preparing his rod and slowly settling himself at the edge of the rock, he tapped the stone with his hand and said:

“Count on you, brother.”

At that moment, a fish jumped. About three steps above the deep pool was a stepped ledge where water fell white with foam. The fish seemed to have jumped at that stepped ledge. When Hansaburou looked over, another fairly large fish leaped and disappeared beyond the stepped ledge.

“Is that a dace?” he said. “Might be a river trout. Hmm, they’re here after all.”

Hansaburou’s estimation had not been off.
In about half an hour, he caught two large dace and three river trout.
He would immediately release the fish he caught into the water—gently holding the fish in one hand, removing the hook, gazing briefly at its face, and then tossing it back into the river.

By around four in the afternoon, Hansaburou had caught and released thirty-two fish and returned home satisfied.
Danpei, his companion, sympathized when the master returned empty-handed.

“There are fish in that river,” Danpei said, “but I reckon the spot wasn’t any good.”

Hansaburou said nothing.

The next day, he went out again.
When sitting down on the slate rock, he gave it another gentle tap.
Though he said nothing aloud, his tapping carried a friendly rhythm—as though murmuring, "Hey there, brother."
By noon that day, he had caught eighteen fish.
Dace, river trout, even sweetfish.
As he removed the hooks from their mouths, the fish thrashed wildly in his hands, scattering droplets carrying the mountain stream’s chill and the moss’s sharp scent.

“What’s this—hey, again?”
Hansaburou grasped a dace and said, “Didn’t I just let you go? You fool. What kind of idiot gets caught again right after being freed? Hey, get a grip.”

He released the dace back into the water.

The dace flipped its belly in the water and vanished, then flashed its silver underside once more before swiftly disappearing toward the depths.

Then, a white human naked body came floating from upstream.
Stretched out supine and unrestrained toward the water's surface, it drifted slowly along with the current.

Hansaburou was startled.

At first he couldn’t tell what it was—he thought it might be a drowned body—but when he saw limbs stirring the water, realized it was a living person.
And when it came before his eyes, discovered it was a young woman.
The slate rock stood about six feet high; thus when she floated into view at eye level before him，he could take in her entire form.
Small shoulders; rounded swell of breasts with pale birch-colored areolae; rich hollow carved into abdomen and narrow swath of black crowning the rise beyond; from widened hips to weighty thighs, legs tapering slender and supple.
Arms were spread wide to either side.—Skin dazzled white, likely from cold water，whole body tinged pale pink.

Hansaburou had seen all of that in barely an instant.
It was little more than a “glance,” but the intensity of that impression was unlike any other.

Hansaburou started, then shut both eyes.
After shutting his eyes, he pressed his hands over them.
Then, the fishing rod he was holding fell, bounced off a rocky edge, and dropped into the river.
He did not notice; after remaining like that for a short while, he cautiously opened his eyes.
Then, he hunched his body and scanned the pool upstream and downstream.—There was nothing there anymore; only clear blue, heavy water flowed slowly, rippling across its surface.

“An illusion?” Hansaburou muttered. “Are my eyes playing tricks? No—it was real... My heart’s pounding like this, brother.” He tapped the rock’s surface. “What was that just now? Did the guardian of the pool take shape? I’m begging you—don’t shock me like that.”

For a time, he sat dazedly atop the rock, gazing fixedly at the water’s surface as though his very spirit had deserted him. Having lost his rod, he returned early that day. Danpei shook his head as the master returned empty-handed once more that day—and without even his rod.

II

As he watched the master head to the well, Danpei shook his head again and scratched the back of his head.

“What’s he even goin’ there for?” Danpei muttered. “Not a single fish caught, and on top of that he comes back without his rod… Such a fine rod it was too, heh—”
During dinner, Danpei remembered there had been a visitor.
While serving him, he said to his master:
“Lord Kashiwara came by this mornin’,” he said.

Then Hansaburou closed his eyes.
Hansaburou had been looking at the rice in the bowl he held, chopsticks poised to eat as he gazed at the freshly steamed barley rice with its nutty aroma—but the moment Danpei said those words, he squeezed his eyes shut.
He had squeezed them so tightly that deep wrinkles formed on his eyelids and between his eyebrows.

“Did somethin’ happen?”

Danpei asked in surprise.

“Yeah,” Hansaburou said, “it’s nothing.”

“Lord Kashiwara came by,” Danpei said.
“You’re actin’ all sour-faced—what’s your game? Runnin’ out every day since you arrived... Master,” he pressed on, “he said you’ve been ordered into house arrest here in the domain—ain’t that right?”

“That’s not true.”
Hansaburou muttered, “Something’s wrong with my eyes—there’s no way it exists.”

Danpei opened his mouth and looked at the master’s face.

“Huh—” Danpei said, “so you ain’t under house arrest after all?”

“Shut up for a moment,” Hansaburou said.

Danpei said, “Huh.”
Huh, guess I should shut up, he thought.
Ain’t my problem—Master’s the one who’ll get in trouble; I’ve said my piece, he muttered inwardly.

What a strange master—can’t figure him out at all.

Fuse Hansaburou had moved from Edo approximately one month prior.
Danpei had been promptly hired and had been tending to him ever since, but he never attended to his duties nor interacted with others in the clan.
There was no visiting from either side—neither from here to others nor from others to here.
Moreover, he remained exceptionally taciturn; even when Danpei spoke to him, he would give no proper reply, and beyond necessary matters, he never initiated conversation.
Stranger still, he often spoke aloud to the house’s pillars and walls or the garden’s trees and stones.
He would even cheerfully address dogs, cats, and small birds.

He had been confined to his home province as a disciplinary measure.

Kashiwara Tosho, who had visited that morning, had stated this.
Kashiwara Tosho was a domain steward managing provincial affairs with a five-hundred-koku stipend and reportedly a distant relative of Hansaburou.
Accounts held that Fuse served as second chief retainer at the Edo estate, with Hansaburou being his sole son—a youth of extraordinary swordsmanship and jujutsu skill, yet cursed with such violent temperament that his constant brawls rendered him unmanageable.
He had faced reprimands and confinement orders approximately five times in all.

Hansaburou began tending to garden trees and fishing to avoid such conflicts.

Trees, stones, and fish—they don’t make me angry.

That was how he would put it.

He was already twenty-eight, yet he rejected every marriage proposal that came his way and refused every official post they tried to impose on him. When he declared, "Leave me be," they sentenced him to three years' confinement in the province. It was said he might return to Edo once his penitence bore fruit.

When the meal was finished, Hansaburou looked at Danpei.

“Did you say something?”

“Lord Kashiwara came by,” Danpei said. “This mornin’, Lord Kashiwara Tosho came by—in a right foul mood he was—askin’ what’s your game.”

“I get it,” Hansaburou said. “I’ve already heard that. Don’t repeat the same thing twice.”

Danpei said “Huh” and fell silent.

It rained for two days straight.

On the third day, Hansaburou went out fishing.
He had three rods brought from Edo; the one he had lost was a cheap one, but among them, it had been the one that handled the best.
He selected one from the remaining rods, meticulously prepared it, and headed out.

“Well,” Danpei said, “if Lord Kashiwara comes to see you, how should I answer ’im?”

“Tell ’im I went fishin’.”

“Well,”
Danpei said, “In my thinkin’—”

“Tell ’im I went fishin’.”

And Hansaburou left.

When he descended to the deep pool, he was startled to find a fishing rod lying atop the cutting board-shaped rock. It was the rod he had lost four days prior; he recognized at a glance that it was his own rod from that day. Hansaburou looked around frantically with eyes that seemed frightened.

There, everything was as usual.
There was no one in sight anywhere, nor was there any sign of someone hiding.

“It wasn’t a hallucination or my eyes playing tricks,” Hansaburou muttered. “That was real—that—that woman really existed.”

That naked woman was real.
Someone must have retrieved the rod he had lost and placed it here—Hansaburou thought.
Then his heart began pounding just as it had before, and his face turned red.
Hansaburou, as if to deceive himself, casually prepared his fishing gear and settled into his usual spot.
As soon as he sat down, he tapped the rock and said:

“Count on you, brother.”
He narrowed his eyes as if against a glare. “Don’t give me such a fright.”

The rain had stopped, but the water remained murky.

In the morning, the water was murky, and the results weren’t good.
In the afternoon, when the murkiness lessened, he began to catch fish, and within about an hour, he landed around ten.
Of course, he caught and released them immediately, but when he let go of a yamame trout for what must have been the tenth time or so, a voice called out from beneath the rocks.

“Why do you let the fish go?”

Hansaburou let out a startled “Ugh,” and at the same time, closed his eyes.

“Hey,” the voice said again, “why do you let them go after going to all the trouble of catching them?”

“—Thank you for the rod,” Hansaburou said.
“What was that you said?”
“Thank you very much for the rod.”

“You’re welcome.”

The voice chuckled, then said, “It was my fault—I must have given you quite a shock.”
Another chuckle followed. “I was startled too, you know. This deep pool is supposed to be completely deserted—that’s why I felt safe coming here to swim. But then a fishing rod came tumbling down, and when I opened my eyes, there you were.”
The voice trailed off, then spoke again, “Won’t you say something?”

“Well,” Hansaburou said, “today—when did you get here—had you been here all along?”

“Yes, since earlier,” the voice replied. “I swam over from the far side and had been watching—right when you were rubbing your nose.”

Hansaburou reflexively rubbed his nose.

“Hey,” the voice said, “I’d like you to swim with me—how about it?”

Hansaburou couldn’t answer.

Three

“Hey.”
Her voice grew increasingly rough. “You don’t know how to swim, do you?”

“I know.”

“Then come here.”
The voice said, “Today’s fine, see?”

There was a sound of water, and from behind the rock, the woman slipped out and swam toward the other side.
The two strips of red cloth wrapped around her waist were tangled about her pure white thighs.
Hansaburou narrowed his eyes; though her waist was hidden, the exposed swell of her chest burned with unbearable radiance.
The woman raised her hand and shouted.

“Come here, hurry!”
The woman said, “You have that much courage, don’t you?”

Hansaburou stood up and untied his obi.

“Oh, how wonderful!” the woman shouted. “Hurry! Hurry up!”

Hansaburou stripped down to just his fundoshi and jumped boldly from the rock.
The woman swam over; when Hansaburou surfaced, she pressed his head down and submerged him.
Hansaburou swallowed water.
The woman wound her way over and pressed down on him as he tried to rise.
Hansaburou’s breath choked; he shook off the woman and fled to the side.
When he finally surfaced, the woman slapped the water and laughed.

“Oh, how amusing!” the woman said. “I got to bully you—you’re so weak.”

“It’s not always like that.”

“You managed to sink me,” the woman laughed. “Try to sink me—you can’t sink me, can you?”

Hansaburou swam over.
The woman dove.
Hansaburou also dove and opened his eyes underwater.
A bright, warm-toned blue spread out, and a single fish darted past the tip of his nose.
Hansaburou veered sideways and surfaced.
The woman was nowhere to be seen.
Hansaburou dove again.
Then he surfaced cautiously and waited for the woman to emerge.

The woman did not surface.
It was clear she hadn’t drowned; she must be hiding somewhere.
Hansaburou waited.
However, the woman never emerged.

“Hey.”
Hansaburou shouted, “Aren’t you coming out?”

He climbed onto the rock.

He waited while fishing until around four o’clock, but the woman never showed herself.

That night, Hansaburou was tormented by a strange, restless emotion and could not sleep well.
Before his eyes floated the naked figure of that woman, while across his skin revived the sensation of her wet, smooth limbs.
The memory of her—how she had entangled herself with him in the water, her flexible, supple and firm skin—was so vividly raw that he blushed crimson many times over by himself.

"What had she been thinking?"
"Was she just teasing me," Hansaburou muttered, "or did she get embarrassed and run away?"
He shook his head on the pillow. "Anyway—what an absurd woman she was. What on earth was she?"

The next day, he overslept by about an hour.
Danpei prepared the meal and waited, but since the master did not wake up, he went to pound rice in the back until the master rose.
Despite having overslept, the master, who had gotten up and come out to the wellside, still wore a sullen face as if he hadn’t slept enough.

“That fishin’ rod looks like ’twas found all battered,” said Danpei. “Did it wash up somewheres downstream?”

The master only said "Yeah."

After a late breakfast，Hansaburou hesitated slightly over whether to go fishing.
Because somewhere in his heart，there was an expectation—“I want to see that woman again.”
While he was hesitating，Danpei came and said.

“Master, the bait is ready.”

Hansaburou stood up energetically.

But that day, the woman did not come.
At dusk, Hansaburou returned home much later than usual, in an even worse mood than normal, and drank about twice as much sake as he usually did.
It was his custom to start drinking sake with his meal and continue for about half a period after finishing.
Even so, the amount was about three *gō*, but that night he drank nearly double his usual quantity and repeatedly muttered (to Danpei’s incomprehension) to himself.

“Fool!” he suddenly shouted. “You’re being slovenly!”

Danpei’s eyes widened.

“Might it be me?” Danpei said.

Hansaburou looked at Danpei with eyes like one roused from a dream, then stood up in silence.

The next day, Hansaburou stayed shut in at home.
However, the following morning, he ordered Danpei to dig for bait and left in an extremely restless state.
When he descended to the deep pool, the woman was waiting.

The woman stood in the shaded hollow beneath the cliff.
She wore nothing but two crimson cloths wrapped about her hips—the same as before—her skin glistening wet from what must have been a recent emergence from the river. Water still pooled on the rock beneath her bare feet.
Hansaburou—who had failed to notice her until completing his descent down the cliff face—flushed crimson upon recognizing her.
At this, the woman too reddened, bringing both hands up to cover her naked breasts.
Hansaburou turned his gaze aside.

“Have you already been swimming?” Hansaburou said. “The water’s still cold, isn’t it?”

“Why didn’t you come yesterday?”

The woman’s voice trembled.
It seemed she trembled either from suppressing intense emotions or from anger.
Hansaburou turned to look.
Then the woman suddenly clung to him.
Clinging with all her strength using both hands, she shook violently in the arms of the man who had barely caught her.

“Tighter,” the woman said. “Hold me tighter—until I break.”

Hansaburou did so.
Beneath the wet skin burned a fiery body heat.
Even when crushed in such an embrace, the trembling of the woman’s body did not cease.
It shook with abnormal violence, like the convulsions of malarial fever.
Then at last—just when he thought the trembling had stopped—strength suddenly drained from her form, her entire body growing soft as though about to melt.

“I’m not a fisherman.”
In a hoarse voice, Hansaburou said, “I just enjoy fishing. Since I’m not a fisherman, I don’t need the fish.”

“Please say something.”

“No—it’s nothing.”
“It’s nothing,” Hansaburou said.

The woman let out a rapturous sigh.
Leaning against Hansaburou’s chest and surrendering herself fully to his arms, she stayed motionless like that and murmured breathlessly.

“I longed to meet you.”

Hansaburou frowned deeply.

“May I ask your name?” he said.

“No,” the woman shook her head. “You give me a name—call me whatever you like. That will be my name.”

“I want to know the name you’ve had since you were little.”

“No—you’ll laugh.”

“Go on, tell me.”

“Tadako,” the woman said.

“Tadako,” Hansaburou said.

Tadako began to cry.
Hansaburou swayed Tadako from side to side while holding her.
And then he whispered once more.

“Tadako—”

IV

The two met nearly every day.

As long as it didn’t rain, there wasn’t a single day they didn’t meet.
The woman always came from upstream, sliding down the rocky shallows to reach the deep pool.
Then she would descend downstream from the deep pool and leave.

Downstream from the deep pool, it seemed someone was waiting with clothes.
Her name was Sada—Tadako was what she had called herself as a child, a childish mispronunciation of her own name.
She appeared to be around twenty years old... From her speech and mannerisms—though she deliberately affected roughness—one could tell she came from a samurai household, but she refused to answer any questions beyond that.

“Please leave me as Tadako,” she always said. “You saw me first as I came into this world—completely open, hiding nothing—exactly as I am. I’m still naked now, aren’t I? This is Tadako.”

“I want to know everything about you.”

“This is your Tadako,” she declared. “Once I put on clothes and makeup, I’m no longer Tadako—I’m a woman with no ties to you. Please, leave me as Tadako.”

“Is it absolutely impossible?”

“Please—don’t make that face. Don’t put me in such a difficult position.”

June passed and July arrived.

During this time, Kashiwara Tosho came frequently, and each time Danpei was squeezed dry. “Even if they’re hired help, retainers are still retainers—how can there be someone who stays silent seeing their master so undisciplined? Why not offer at least one piece of advice to correct his conduct?” That’s what he would say. But there was nothing Danpei could do—no matter what he said, the master wouldn’t listen at all, and if he pressed even a little, he’d be yelled at with a “Shut up!” Moreover, since the master wasn’t frequenting disreputable places but was merely obsessed with his inept fishing (he had never once brought home a fish), Danpei instead found himself sympathizing with him.

“In that case, Lord Kashiwara,” Danpei finally said, “let me ask you this about our master—just how exactly is his conduct so bad? If he was gambling or drinking himself silly or sneaking off to Shinmachi, that’d be one thing, but he’s just hooked on fishing—and ain’t even managed to haul in a single decent fish! Can’t call that killing living things. I ain’t got no advice to give.”

Kashiwara Tosho scowled and waved his hand as if pitying Danpei’s ignorance.
However, since then, Kashiwara’s visits gradually became less frequent.

When July came, Tadako’s condition began to change.
She began covering her chest, wearing a white bleached cotton half-length underrobe, and changed the two waistcloths from scarlet to white bleached cotton as well.
Her moods became increasingly erratic; while swimming together, she would act playfully foolish one moment, then suddenly fall silent, gazing at him intently or letting out sighs.

Hansaburou had hardly noticed these changes in her.
At some point, he suddenly noticed it, but he had no clear memory of when she had started wearing the underrobe or when she had switched the two waistcloths to bleached cotton.

—Why hadn’t he noticed?

He started to ask Tadako but stopped himself before the words left his mouth.

―What need was there to ask?
he muttered to himself.
Tadako had first appeared before him completely naked; next she hid her waist with two cloths, then began covering her chest.
―Isn’t this fact alone enough?

That’s right—it’s enough, he thought.

“Let’s have a meal together.”

When mid-July arrived, Hansaburou said.

“Please don’t ask the impossible of me.”

“Why,” Hansaburou said, “is something as simple as sharing a meal impossible?”

“I will only meet you here.”

“The autumn wind has already risen this strong,” Hansaburou said. “Swimming season will soon end. Will you still come when you can no longer swim?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. If you insist, one could swim even through September or October.”

“Let’s have a meal together,” Hansaburou said. “Since I don’t know any places, you pick the spot—and make it soon.”

“I can’t possibly—”

“No matter what.”

At that time, the two of them were sitting side by side on the stone slab.
Tadako lowered her eyes to her bare knees and, while stroking their sun-browned smooth surfaces, heaved a sigh as if at a loss.

—He won’t back down now.

That’s what she thought.
Hansaburou’s tone was calm, yet carried a quality unlike before.
And within her own heart, an emotion had grown even stronger—one that could not refuse his demand.

“What if,” Tadako said, “even if this leads to us no longer being able to meet like this—even then… you wouldn’t mind?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you worried about that?”

“I don’t know.” Tadako shook her head. “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, but… I don’t know. Ah, I just don’t understand anything anymore.”

She pressed both hands to her face.
Hansaburou slid his arm around her shoulder and roughly pulled her close with both arms.
Tadako's body felt soft in his embrace, light as a cotton boll.
Trembling, she leaned against Hansaburou's chest and spoke.

“Hey, won’t you wait just a little longer? Just a little—until autumn comes.”

“It makes no difference.”

“If you wait just a little longer, I’ll arrange everything properly so we can meet.”

“What?” Hansaburou looked at Tadako’s face and said, “What do you mean by ‘arrange everything’? Tell me—what exactly stands in our way?”

Tadako hid her face in his chest.

“Can’t you say it? Is it something you can’t even tell me?” Hansaburou said. “Fine—then all the more reason. I’m not some gentle soul who’ll sit idle watching you shoulder this burden alone.”

“I know. There’s a frightening side to you.”

“I’ve waited all I can wait,” Hansaburou said. “A full month has passed since we first met, yet I still know nothing about you. I’ve had enough—this situation is intolerable, Tadako—will you share a meal with me?”

“Yes, let’s do that.”

“Decide right here and now—where should we go?”

Tadako raised her face and looked at him.

Five

The following afternoon, the two met at a restaurant-teahouse called Hachiya in Minamori Forest.

It was located west of the castle town, adjacent to the precincts of Kitano Shrine. Surrounded by deep cedar forests at its back and facing a pond called the Thousand Ponds, tea stalls and restaurants lined the area, but among them, Hachiya boasted the grandest structure, with roofed boats moored at its pier.

Tadako had arrived first and was waiting.
It was a sukiya-style annex built as a separate structure, surrounded on two sides by a four-panel lattice fence entwined with honeysuckle.

Tadako appeared to have slimmed down neatly.
She wore a hemp kimono with iris patterns on an indigo gradient and had tied an obi of white cloth also dyed with irises.
She wore no makeup, but her sun-tanned face appeared smaller than usual, with a refreshingly firm look to it—perhaps from the obi cinched around her waist, which made her figure seem slimmer and her stature more elegantly tall.

“Don’t stare so much,” Tadako said, her eyes reddening. “This outfit… it doesn’t suit me, does it?”

“You’re beautiful,” Hansaburou said. “You are.”

“Oh, please don’t look.”

“I won’t look.”
Hansaburou stepped out toward the engawa. “They can launch boats here, huh?”

Tadako also stepped out and stood beside him.

“If you like, we could cast a net from a boat and eat what we catch right there in the boat.”

“The pond fish?”

“They channel water from the Kanogawa River.” Tadako said, “That’s why you can catch all kinds of river fish here.”

“You’ve known this place for a long time.”

“When I was small, I often came here with my father and mother.”

“Back when you were Tadako?”

“Yes, back when I was Tadako.”

Hansaburou gently rested a hand on her shoulder.
Tadako tilted her head and pressed her cheek to his hand resting on her shoulder.
Her cheek was hot, and her cold hair carried the scent of perfume.

The meal was delicious.
The menu featured sliced raw ayu and salt-grilled ayu, burdock and new shoots in sesame dressing, a bowl of wild mitsuba with crucian carp soup, pan-fried chicken accompanied by a bowl of gingko nuts, miso-glazed tofu, and blanched greens.—Under their agreement to focus solely on the meal that day, they avoided broaching any other topics.
Despite this, Tadako pressed him about his childhood—no matter how much he spoke, she would pester for more without tiring.

“You’re impossible,” Tadako laughed. “Your stories are nothing but fights and being scolded, aren’t they?”

“If I’m fishing, I stay out of trouble.”

“That’s true—”
But she suddenly lowered her eyes. “But now that things have come to this, even that fishing wasn’t harmless after all.”

“You mean it’s a good haul?”

She shook her head vaguely.
The motion of shaking her head while keeping her eyes lowered looked utterly fragile and bewildered.
But Tadako immediately raised her face and, looking at him with laughing eyes, said—

“But you always end up releasing the fish you went through all the trouble to catch, don’t you?”

“What should I say…”
Hansaburou tried to laugh. “This is tough—I’m no good at clever comebacks in moments like these.”

Tadako let out a dry laugh.
Seeming to find her own words ominous, she hurriedly added with a dry laugh:

“So your hands let go first, then?”

“If only my hands could reach.”

At that moment, a fierce splash erupted from the pond. When they looked, there on the opposite water surface, a cormorant was thrashing. Shaking its long neck, it beat the water with its wings in frantic flapping. At first glance, it seemed to be suffering from an injury, but upon closer inspection, it was holding a large fish in its beak. The fish was too large for its beak, and in its desperate attempt to swallow it, the cormorant thrashed about. But perhaps it had grown too large—the fish finally slipped away, and the cormorant watched it go with evident frustration.—So palpable was its vexation that they could almost hear a “Tch” of disapproval, making the pair burst into laughter. Startled by their laughter, the cormorant took flight, skimming low over the water as it flew off toward Gen-no-Mori.

“Oh, come on!” Tadako said with a laugh. “That cormorant’s such a novice, isn’t it?”

“Seems so.”

“I wonder what I should say when I return home.”

“You’ll keep quiet about this, right?”

“That’s right,” Tadako said. “I’ll keep quiet—mope around for a while, I suppose.”

The two of them stopped laughing.

After drinking tea with candied apricots, they parted ways.
This time, Tadako left first, and Hansaburou remained behind.
When they parted, he gently embraced her.

“Then… see you tomorrow,” Tadako whispered. “At the pool.”

“At that pool,” Hansaburou said.

When Tadako left, he suddenly felt the heat.
As if Tadako had taken the coolness with her, it became oppressively hot, and sweat began to seep out.
He took a fan marked "Hachiya," lay down, and gazed at the pond.

Then, on the other side of the dampened veranda, a young samurai came and stood.
He had come from the gate, stood there, and looked this way.
He was a twenty-three or twenty-four-year-old young man, pale and thin, with a frail appearance.

“What?”
Hansaburou said, “Do you have business?”

The young man’s face contorted grotesquely.

“No,” the young man shook his head. “It’s nothing. My apologies. I thought no one was here, so… well—”

And the young man departed toward the gate.

After passing through the four-eyed lattice fence gate, the young man did not go to the main house but instead followed along the wall to circle around back, opened a hatch door, and stepped outside.

What should I do?

He stopped. What should I do?

His body trembled, and sweat streamed from his forehead.
He held a folding fan in his right hand but made no effort to block the sun with it, seemingly oblivious to the sweat streaming down his face as he fidgeted through the scorching sunlight toward Kitano Shrine. After exiting the forest, he boarded a palanquin in front of the torii gate.—The palanquin bearers, who appeared to recognize him, greeted him with excessive politeness.

“Take me to Takiyama,” he said.

“Right away,” the palanquin bearers said. “The Takiyama villa, then? Very well.”

Six

Along the mountain path Hansaburou always took, continuing about four chō without descending to the pool lay the hamlet of Takiyama.
At the front gate of a villa encircled by bamboo fencing near the hamlet's center, the young man alighted from the palanquin—this was Fujie Kuranosuke's secondary residence.
Fujie served as the domain's chief retainer, and the young man was his eldest son called Kogorou.

After entering the gate, he immediately opened the lattice door on his left, passed through the grove of young pine trees, and went straight toward the main house’s veranda.
At that moment, from the far side of the veranda, a young maid approached carrying a hair-washing basin, noticed Kogorou, and bowed in surprise.

“Is she back?”
He said, “The mistress is here, isn’t she?”

Kogorou stepped up onto the veranda.

“Yes, um—” the maid flustered, “I’ll inform her at once.”

“I’ll go myself—don’t you follow.”

“But, um—”

“Don’t come!” he shouted. “I won’t have it if you do!”

The maid stood frozen, still holding the hair-washing basin.
Kogorou walked down the corridor with heavy footsteps, took up his sword, and while holding it, entered the room to the right with open shoji screens—then stepped into the adjacent chamber (its sliding doors likewise open).
There was Sada.
She seemed to have been trying to wipe away sweat—her underrobe half-removed—but while hiding her chest with her yukata sleeve, she looked this way.

Her face was sharply drawn tight, her eyes seeming to burn with anger.

“I saw you,” Kogorou declared, still standing. “With these eyes—I saw you meeting a man in Hachiya.”

Sada silently glared at him.

“Won’t you say anything?”
“I knew,” Kogorou said. “I’ve known all along. Since the rainy season ended—every day you went out claiming to swim. Yet whenever I came, you were never here. That’s why I started watching. You weren’t swimming at all—pretending to swim while meeting that man daily. Isn’t that right?”

“How well-informed you are,” Sada said. “That’s exactly right.”

“ ‘That’s right,’ you say?”
He trembled.

“Yes, exactly—just as you said.”

He turned pale.
He had not anticipated hearing such a reply; he turned pale, then flushed bright red.

“You—” Kogorou stammered. “You—are you in your right mind saying that?”

“Please stop this ‘you’ business—I am still Fujie Kuranosuke’s wife.”

“You’re just my father’s wife.”

“And by social obligation, I should be your mother.”

“This mother of mine—you mean that filthy woman?”

Sada stared at him in stunned silence for a moment.
Kogorou’s face also froze in shock.
Sada’s eyes were piercingly sharp, but a smile hovered on her lips.
It was a chillingly cold smile, one that made people recoil.

“When I said ‘still,’ I meant ‘still now.’”
“There’s no need to worry,” Sada said. “I will be leaving this house soon, so you’ll no longer have to call this ‘filthy woman’ your mother.”

“It was a slip of the tongue—forgive me.”
Kogorou stammered again, “I was—worked up—didn’t mean what I said.”

“No, that’s not it. I’m not leaving because you called me a filthy woman. Even if you hadn’t, I’d already intended to confess everything and take my leave.”

Sada skillfully hitched up her yukata and stood, went into the adjacent storage room, and began making noises with the chest of drawers.
――Kogorou opened his mouth.
He let his right hand holding the sword hang limply, listened to the noises from the storage room, and gasped with his mouth agape.

“No way—that can’t be,” he stammered. “Leaving… no way—you’re not serious, are you?” Sada did not answer.

“There’s no way that’s possible,” he said.

The sound of an obi being unfurled came from the storage room.

“There’s no way that’s possible.”

Kogorou trembled as he spoke. “Father has loved you so much. For three years since your marriage, he’s done everything you asked.”

“That’s just how it seems to you.”

“He gave in to your every whim—didn’t let you pluck your eyebrows or blacken your teeth, didn’t even let you manage the household! When you said you hated the town mansion, he moved us straight to this secondary residence—and at his age, he commutes nearly eight kilometers* to the castle every day!” Kogorou said. “And Father doesn’t even look discontent—he’s become so lively and vigorous.”

“That’s just how it seems.”
From the storage room, Sada said, “Because you don’t know the truth, that’s how it seems to you.”

“It’s not just me—everyone who knows Father says the same. After my previous mother died, he had aged completely. Everyone says the Father from back then and the Father now seem like entirely different people. You should understand that this isn’t a lie. And all of this is for your sake—because you, thirty years his junior, are here for him.”

In the storage room came the sound of an obi being tightened.
The sharp, rhythmic noise of the tightened obi seemed to stand in place of her verbal reply.

“You can’t abandon a father like this and leave. No human being could do such a thing—and I should know that better than anyone.”

“I will leave.”
“I will return to my parents’ home as I am,” Sada said.

There was the sound of her tidying away the things she had taken off, and the sound of the chest of drawers being closed.

“Abandoning that Father—that Father who loves you so much—” Kogorou said, “do you even understand what will become of him?”

Sada emerged from the storage room.

“Father…Father…Father’s sake,” Sada said. “You keep speaking of Father, but if you truly cared for his well-being, you ought to be glad to let me leave.”

“‘Be glad for Father’s sake,’ you say?”

“There are things I cannot put into words,” Sada said, “but I am a burden to Father. There are reasons why he appears to do everything I say, and reasons why he seems so lively and vigorous.”

“Let me hear that—tell me that reason.”

“I cannot tell.”
She shook her head. “Matters between husband and wife cannot be discussed with outsiders. I will only say this: that having a wife more than thirty years his junior has weighed heavily on Father’s body and mind—and having lived with him these three years, I know this burden better than anyone.”

“Are you telling me to believe those words just as they are?”

“If I disappear, Father will be relieved.”

“And you too.”
Kogorou flared up again. “Do you plan to find relief by running off with that man yourself?”

Sada’s eyes glinted sharply, and that smile floated onto her lips once more.
She stared directly into Kogorou’s eyes as she spoke.
“So that’s your true voice.”

“What the—”

“That’s your real intention,” Sada said. “Everything you’ve been saying isn’t for Father’s sake—it’s all for yourself. Chasing me around, branding me a defiling woman—that’s your jealousy. Pleading with me not to leave—that’s your unresolved clinging.”

The sword in Kogorou’s grip chattered in quick, shallow bursts against its scabbard.

七

“You’re a weak-willed coward,” Sada said. “You loved me—you loved me—yet when Father said he wanted me, you couldn’t tell him how you felt. Instead, you came to me and said, ‘Become Father’s wife.’”

“But… but…”
“Th-then why—why didn’t you refuse? You agreed to it, didn’t you?” he stammered harshly.

“Are you reproaching me?”

“You should have been able to refuse.”

“Do you expect that I—a sixteen-year-old girl, the daughter of a construction magistrate with less than a hundred koku, who had only just turned sixteen—could have refused a proposal from the thousand-koku chief retainer?” Sada said.

“But now—right now—you’re trying to go to that man, aren’t you? If you have that kind of courage—”

“Stop calling me ‘you’ in that way!” Sada nearly shouted, then continued: “—The reason I’ve gained courage to do this now is because I’ve become nineteen, no longer sixteen.”

“Won’t you say it’s for that man’s sake?”

“It’s for your sake. That man has nothing to do with this.”

“My—” he stammered, “you say it’s for my sake?”

“You kept clinging to me all this time—you were the one who asked me to become Father’s wife, yet even after I married into the Fujie family, you couldn’t let go. You hovered around me whenever you had a spare moment. I moved here because I thought we mustn’t let Father find out.”

“That’s a lie! You’re making this up!”

“If Father noticed, it would be disastrous—and if some irreversible mistake occurred, I couldn’t bear it. That’s why I moved here,” Sada said. “But still, you come—to this annex, without even three days passing between your visits, no purpose at all. I’ve had enough—completely enough. I will leave this house.”

“Would you trample the Fujie family name and Father’s honor?”

“If you had told me three years ago—not Father, but yourself—to become your wife, none of this would have happened,” Sada said. “You lacked the courage to say it then, and even now, you try to suppress me with talk of family name and honor. You are both cowardly and cunning.”

“Say what you want to say—but I will never let you leave this house.”

“Please let me pass through there.”

“Let you out? Absolutely not!”

Sada quietly moved forward.
Kogorou stood blocking.
However，she sidestepped him and went into the next room；he chased after her in a fluster.

“Wait!”
Kogorou said, “At least… at least wait until Father returns.”

Sada stepped out into the corridor.

“Aren’t you going to wait—are you really leaving?”

Sada called for the servant as she headed toward the entrance.
The maidservant responded and came out.
Then Kogorou shouted.

“You—don’t you dare leave!”

The maidservant trembled violently and tried to retreat into the room.
Sada turned around.

“Tell Gihee to send the palanquin around to the front,” Sada said to the maidservant. “Say it’s urgent and needs to be done immediately.”

The maidservant trotted off at a brisk pace.

“So you’re determined to leave no matter what.”
“I’ll ask once more,” Kogorou said in a frenzied voice, “are you truly resolved to depart from here?”

Sada went out to the entrance.

“Fine—try it if you can!”

Kogorou chased after her.
The fan tucked into the front fold of his hakama trousers fell. He stepped out to the entrance and switched his sword to his left hand.

“Try it if you can!” he shouted in a frenzied voice. “I won’t let you leave this house alive—I’ll cut you down!”

Sada turned around and looked at him.

“Don’t think this is a bluff—I’ve got every right to cut you down,” Kogorou snarled, gripping his sword hilt. “I’ve got proof of your adultery. Executing adulterers is samurai law! Go on—try walking out that gate!”

Beyond the entrance, servants lowered a palanquin to the ground.

“My footwear,” Sada demanded.

One of the palanquin carriers took the footwear and entered.
Sada stepped down to the entrance platform.
Then, when Kogorou drew his sword, the palanquin carriers—startled—leaped outside.

“Sada—”
Kogorou shouted, “I’ll kill you!”

Sada turned to face him once more.

“Go ahead,” Sada said.

Kogorou raised his sword.
The blade flashed.
Sada put on the straw sandals.
Kogorou added his left hand to the raised sword’s hilt, assumed a high overhead stance, and stepped down to the entrance platform.
Sada calmly fastened her footwear and quietly exited through the gate.

Kogorou stood frozen.
His sword, raised high overhead in a jōdan stance, glittered fiercely while quivering minutely.

The palanquin carriers opened the sliding door, and Sada entered the palanquin.
The palanquin carriers took her sandals, then shouldered the pole.—Kogorou watched.
The palanquin was lifted up, then quietly made its way toward the gate.
It exited the gate, turned slowly to the left, and vanished from sight.
Kogorou's arm weakly lowered, and the tip of his sword nearly touched the boards of the entrance platform.

“What do I do,” he muttered, “what do I do?”

He sheathed his sword—without even wiping it—into its scabbard.

At that moment, a clamor was heard from the direction of the road.

A scream as if tearing apart and voices of clamor—

Kogorou jumped out still in his split-toed socks.
When he rushed out and exited the gate, a palanquin could be seen about twenty ken ahead.
The palanquin was nearly thrown down, and the two palanquin carriers could be seen leaping to the roadside.
The palanquin carriers dashed into the bamboo thicket; the palanquin lay askew on the road as a galloping horse charged toward it.
The horse, its mane disheveled and foaming at the mouth, madly pounded the earth with its hooves, kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake as it charged forward and slammed its hooves into the palanquin.
Kogorou said, “Ah.”

The horse thrust its forelegs into the palanquin and collapsed along with it.
A thick cloud of swirling dust enveloped it.
The horse let out a piercing whinny, kicked its legs up twice, and as it rose, galloped back the way it had come.—The palanquin carriers rushed out to the road, and the two of them tried to lift the palanquin.
There, Kogorou came running.
The palanquin was crushed, and when they tried to lift it, the roof came off.

“Sada, Tadako”
Kogorou shouted.

He tried to remove the broken sliding door.

“We couldn’t avoid it,” said one of the palanquin carriers. “It happened too suddenly—there was no way to get out of its path.”

The sliding door came off. Sada’s body remained twisted in a seated position, her upper half tilted backward. The area above her twisted obi was soaked in blood, spreading rapidly across the fabric.

Kogorou trembled violently. “Tadako... Can you hear me? It’s me.”

“You came to meet me… To meet—I’m happy,” Sada said.

Her eyes were vacant—empty, dilated pupils—and she looked up at the sky as if searching for someone who might be there.

“I’ve arranged everything just as I wanted.”
She whispered in a hoarse voice, “Everything… Come now, let us go. Please lend me your hand.”

Sada reached out her hand.
As if reaching for someone’s hand—yet the outstretched hand fell midway, and her head lurched to the left.—Sada’s breathing ceased.

VIII

A dry, cold September wind blew across the deep pool.
Hansaburou dangled his fishing line from atop the slab of rock.

“Hey,” he said to the slab of rock, “another failure today, eh?—You’re hopeless. Utterly hopeless.”

Hansaburou looked toward the far side. In the cracks of the cliff across the way, seedling pines, maples, and sumacs extended their branches, and silver grass formed thickets. When the wind blew up from downstream, they swayed one after another, as if whispering to each other, swaying in succession. The silver grass had shed their plumes, and the sumac leaves had turned a vivid red.

“That guy’s a blockhead—Danpei, I mean.” He said to the slab of rock again, “That blockhead had the nerve to say, ‘Ain’t no way to search for ’er, Master’—Hey, you listenin’, brother? Danpei’s a fool through and through! Sada’s a common enough name—the daughter at the brush shop across the way’s called that too, even her granny’s Sada! If you fancy it, Master could go check ’em all one by one! I don’t know her face or figure—couldn’t find her even if I stood on my head! … That bastard’s not just a blockhead—he’s got no human feelin’s at all. Don’t you think so, brother?”

He struck the slab of rock with his hand.

Since their meeting in Hachiya, Tadako had not shown herself.
In this land where he had no acquaintances, he could not ask anyone, nor was there anyone he could ask.
How many times had he wandered the castle town?—Tadako never came to the pool, never showed herself—and now nearly seventy days had passed.

“You were beautiful that day.”
Hansaburou gazed at the water and said, “You were truly beautiful, Tadako.”

His eyes moistened; his voice trembled.

“You said it back then—‘Tomorrow again,’ didn’t you? ‘Tomorrow again, at that pool,’ you said!”
He closed his eyes and whispered, “Why aren’t you coming? Where have you gone? Tadako—where are you now?”

Hansaburou’s rod bent.
The rod bent even more, and a fish leapt on the water’s surface.
He remained holding the bending rod, lowered his head—lowered it deeply—and whispered under his breath.

“Tadako—”

On the water’s surface, a fish leapt with a loud splash.