Pathway to Japanese Literature

I Takashi sometimes felt embarrassed by herself. This was especially true when she looked in the mirror. “Oh, this is too much—too much!” She muttered such things to herself, blushed alone, and with a strangely enticed feeling, intently scrutinized her own face reflected in the mirror. Overall—though it was an unpleasant way to put it—her suppleness had come into its own. Her skin was so translucent it seemed to let light through, soft and dewy like flower petals; when touched, it clung to her fingers as if drawing them in.

In one sense, she wanted to avert her eyes. It had been a little over half a year since she became a wife, but the changes that had appeared in her body during that time were such that even she found herself self-conscious, her cheeks often growing hot. Oh, this was too much— To think this was to feel it as her unvarnished truth. The ample weight of her breasts, the full tension around her hips, the painfully taut thighs. Yet her torso remained slender and taut, her limbs tapering gracefully thinner toward their extremities. The contrast between the supple, fuller areas and the slender, taut ones was clearly different from her maiden days, making her cheeks grow hot and her eyes want to look away—yet in reality, her heart pounded with an enticed, mysterious feeling that kept her gazing endlessly.

“How strange… A woman’s body… Why must it be… truly unbearable.” Even as she called it unbearable, she found herself unable to look away no matter how long she gazed.

“What are you doing? In that state again—put some clothes on. You’ll catch cold.” Scolded by her father, she started—yet with a composure so deliberate that even she found it exaggerated—slowly slipping her hands into the sleeves of her kimono. Though it happened every time, this too was actually embarrassing. Probably because her mother had died early, in the past her father would often fret over such things—telling her to go to the hairdresser or scold her for sloppy application of face powder.

“People say a daughter grows dowdy without her mother—so if you won’t use face powder, then don’t; but if you do, apply it properly like a young lady should.” “Today’s fine as it is—the powder won’t stick properly anyway… And with this dreary weather… Who cares about face powder either way.” “That won’t do at all. A woman’s grooming might as well be called society’s ornament—even in grimy back alleys, a woman passing by with well-kept hair becomes a sight to lift the eyes… For a moment, those stale lanes seem to bloom… It becomes one of life’s adornments, like spring flowers opening. If you groom yourself, do it with that awareness. Yours is self-centered—you must mend that attitude.”

This kind of exchange occurred several times.

Ugh—the very idea of being “society’s ornament” or “delighting people’s eyes”—it’s enough to make my stomach churn just hearing it. Takashi had been thinking this in her heart of hearts. That had changed since marrying Tokizo. What her father had said seemed true—when styling her hair and applying makeup, she would suddenly realize she was assessing the effect of her hairstyle and cosmetics through Tokizo’s eyes. Tokizo was a man of few words who rarely spoke, but when her grooming pleased him, his eyes would take on an approving gleam.

So vivid—it’s like waking the eyes. She could tell he was saying something like that. Compared to a thousand eloquent words from some silver-tongued charmer, her husband’s gaze held far more implication—and was infinitely more delightful. Moreover, when she went out shopping with Otami, if people turned to look at them, she felt a sense of purpose. ...In her maiden days, she had thought people were drawn to her elegance, and though it wasn’t unpleasant, it never brought her joy. But now, to some extent, the act of delighting someone’s eyes had conversely come to delight herself. Such things might also naturally be the reason her makeup became more meticulous.

How stubborn she was.

It felt as though her father was thinking along those lines. Though mortifying for spirited Takashi—mortifying in so many ways—she found herself facing the mirror more frequently and for longer stretches, something she could no longer control even if she tried. It’s like spring coming and flowers blooming—what’s wrong with that? In this way, she steeled herself.

“What will you do, Father? If you’re going night fishing, I’ll prepare a bento…”

“Isn’t Tokizo off tomorrow?” “No! Because tomorrow we’re going to Rokkenbori for chrysanthemum viewing—you mustn’t try to lure him out for fishing!” “You’re completely hogging him.” “What’s wrong with that? We’re husband and wife—not your spouse, Father… Instead, I’ll treat you to something delicious tonight—your favorite thing, Father. Okay?”

II

Spanning Honjo Rokkenbori and Morishita, there was a large nursery called Uetatsu. At that time, chrysanthemums were generally associated with Somei, but several years prior, Uetatsu too had begun making efforts to create and exhibit flower beds with a certain dignified style. There were few cultivated varieties like large blooms, unusual forms, or cascade styles—instead, they had grown the most common types in what seemed an intentionally carefree manner. Those unversed in such matters were somewhat disappointed. Some even bluntly dismissed them as unrefined. Yet men of letters and refined connoisseurs—those who favored somewhat unconventional tastes—in other words, those with discerning eyes, were deeply impressed.

"A wild elegance indeed. You've captured it splendidly. An ineffable grace truly." "This is how chrysanthemums ought to be cultivated—Ranjiku here embodies nature itself. Somei's methods are heresy; those bastardized blooms cripple the flowers. As for me—this I could drink to." It wasn't about drinking chrysanthemums. The idea was to serve sake with chrysanthemums as accompaniment. At Uetatsu Nursery they established tea shops at what seemed key points throughout the flower beds. They built four or five small banquet rooms too—spaces where women of casual charm could be found and elaborate dishes prepared. ...Takashi rented one of these tea shop rooms with Tokizo, opening their brought lunchbox while ordering dishes from the establishment, then spent half a day gazing at chrysanthemums together.

“I’ve been so terrified of dying lately I can hardly stand it—don’t you feel that way too?” “—Are you feeling unwell?” “No, that’s not it—if I die, I’ll have to be separated from you. I won’t be able to see your face or talk to you anymore. When I think that, dying becomes so terrifying—so terrifying—a hard, stone-like thing clogs up right here in my chest.” “But someday… That’s just something we can’t avoid.”

“That’s exactly why I think this—since we’ll die someday, I want us to live as a couple so close not even a sheet of paper could slip between us, at least while we’re alive and living like this… closer than any couple before us ever managed… I’ll do everything I can for you—okay?” Takashi pressed down firmly on her husband’s knee with one hand and gazed up at him with a steady, lingering look. “My body and soul are yours to command—I’d do anything for your sake—so you must never change, always cherish me, never get drawn to others or hide affairs from me—promise me, all right?”

“It seems I lack such capabilities—and besides, the other party wouldn’t engage with me anyway.” “Don’t be silly! You’ve got a way with women—when they look at you, they just want to fuss over you. It isn’t just your manliness; your whole personality does that. Even Otami’s gaze changes when she sees you!”

“What nonsense.”

Tokizo frowned and turned his face away. “Oh, it’s true! Even back in Machimachi, you yourself caused such a stir with the neighborhood girls—and what about Master Utazawa?… No! If anything like that happens again, I won’t go on living—okay? Promise me!”

“—What’s gotten into you today?” Tokizo looked at Takashi suspiciously this time. “You keep saying such strange things—are you truly unwell somewhere?” “I’m not unwell or anything, and I’m not saying anything strange at all! It just sounds that way because you don’t understand my feelings. That’s right—when it comes to me… you don’t think about me at all!”

“You keep saying such foolish things—I can’t understand you at all.” Before he could finish speaking, Takashi pressed her sleeve against her face and collapsed weeping onto Tokizo’s lap. This wasn’t sadness—overcome by a helplessly aching, stifling emotion, she could do nothing but cry, utterly unable to compose herself.

The day approximately six months into their marriage marked a distinct turning point in Takashi’s emotional state. It was that her husband was absolutely irreplaceable to her—that if he were to shift his heart to another woman, she would truly die… There wasn’t a married woman who wouldn’t think this way; it was a universal sentiment. But in Takashi’s case, it verged on the extreme.

While children raised in downtown areas were generally precocious, Takashi was unusually late-blooming; by the time she turned twenty that March and welcomed Tokizo as her husband, she had scarcely ever been drawn to men. The family had been bag merchants for three generations, and when one spoke of “Tamura” in Uneme-cho, it was known as a first-class shop. Seven households had branched out from Tamura to establish their own shops; referred to as branch households, they interacted like relatives. These people had been proposing marriage arrangements to Takashi from early on. This was the official reasoning: since Takashi was an only daughter who would inevitably need to take a husband, the branch households could not feel secure unless the main household’s stability was settled. ...Behind this lay what seemed to be a kind of competition among relatives and branch households over the "main household," but setting that aside, what Takashi vaguely sensed was the issue concerning her father, Ihei.

Takashi’s mother, Ine, had died when Takashi was nine years old; she had been a daughter of the house, and Ihei, raised in the shop, became a son-in-law. Ine was far more graceful and refined than Takashi. It was said that a certain picture book seller named Nanigashi once approached them wanting to create a portrait of her, which of course they refused. But while she was that beautiful, her constitution was frail, and doctors’ visits never ceased. ...It seems these qualities—his well-known gentle disposition and abstinence from alcohol and tobacco—were why Ihei was selected....As anticipated, Ihei proved to be an excellent husband. After giving birth to Takashi, Ine spent half of each year bedridden, and this house near the Okawa River in Odawara-cho had been built for her convalescence. Yet Ihei faithfully attended to his wife to such a degree that he never even turned into the alleys—his life confined solely to commuting between their Odawara-cho home and the shop.

After his wife’s death, talk of remarriage naturally arose from various quarters. Yet Ihei merely deflected such talk with gentle composure, steadfastly refusing to take another wife. ...The people’s urgency to have Takashi quickly secure a son-in-law carried an implicit agenda: once accomplished, they would retire Ihei and install him in a suitable honorary position.

“Father, why won’t you remarry? Please, take a new wife!” Twelve- or thirteen-year-old Takashi often said such things. Some time passed, and Takashi began attending Tokiwazu lessons and needlework classes where she overheard gossip often revolving around romantic scandals between men and women. She learned of the established notion that men were inherently unfaithful and untrustworthy, which now tormented her with distrust and suspicion toward her father. …Around this time, Ihei took up fishing as a hobby, occasionally staying out all night angling before returning at dawn. At such times, Takashi would make baseless assumptions—that her father kept a lover elsewhere and must be staying with that person—and be seized by a suffocating anguish akin to breathlessness, her chest tightening as if halved.

“Father, did you really go fishing? You didn’t stay somewhere else, did you? Tell me—did you really go fishing?” She pestered him like this until finally, there were even times when she ended up accompanying him. Around that time, Ihei moved with Takashi to the house in Odawara-cho, employing an old cook and a housemaid to begin a life where father and daughter sat facing each other across the room—as though wife and daughter had exchanged places. Apart from commuting between the shop and Odawara-cho, he still never turned down side streets, finding sufficient satisfaction in night fishing around nearby Cold Bridge.

Cold Bridge was a structure spanning from Odawara-cho to Tsukiji Akashi-cho, located where the Kyobashi-bori and Mito-bori canals flowed into the Okawa River. It was a scene perfectly suited to its colloquial name of “Cold Bridge”—a windswept stretch along the shore, strewn with large rocks. ……Ihei fished there. In cold seasons, over layered quilted kimonos, he wore an old woolen overcoat, donned a tattered hood, and sat hunched on the crumbled stone wall, line dangling. Takashi often went to see that figure.

Since it was close to home，on nights when she couldn’t sleep，she would bring hot tea，huddle close to her father，and spend long hours gazing at the dark waters of the Okawa River. “When my health was good back then，your mother used to bring tea and boxed meals too.” Ihei would sometimes tell such stories. “There was a housemaid named Otori who came from Meguro—I had her bring them—but… you’d huddle right where you are now，watching me fish endlessly… Otori，being prone to drowsiness at that age，was a nuisance—she often dozed off… Then your mother would laugh too and reluctantly head back… Her laughter still seems to linger in my ears.”

Takashi too seemed to see that scene. The quiet love between her sickly mother and gentle, earnest father—a love filled with mutual devotion, like the soft sunlight of early winter, a pure and warm affection—gradually became clear to Takashi. The reason Father never remarried and never took a lover or had an affair was because he couldn’t forget his deceased wife—the two of them had loved each other so deeply.

Takashi thought so. It was established in society that men were unfaithful and malicious by nature—she had both witnessed and heard such truths herself. A man like Father was probably a rarity; if that were the case, then men were simply loathsome—no matter what happened, she would never marry. ...In this way, she had even formed a personal creed. Her physical development too seemed delayed, but beyond her father, she found men utterly repugnant. The intense attachment to her husband that emerged around six months into their marriage was, if one were to dissect it, both a reaction to this mindset and a consequence of her belated physical and emotional maturation suddenly springing to life. In any case, Takashi had reached the age when she personally discovered what love between a man and woman truly entailed—something as scorchingly euphoric as it was excruciatingly painful and sorrowful.

III One year passed, then two years passed.

In May of the second full year since Tokizo had come, her father Ihei suddenly collapsed vomiting blood. The doctor diagnosed him with a stomach ulcer, and he remained bedridden until September. Throughout this period, the housemaid Otami monopolized caring for Ihei. First, preparing meals consumed considerable time and effort; then there were tasks like applying warming stones, cooling his stomach, brewing medicine, and tending to his bedpan—since he was a patient confined to bed, nursing required immense trouble and effort. Takashi was not merely idly standing by; she made efforts to care for him. But Otami rushed ahead to handle everything, and the patient himself wanted Otami’s attention.

“Let Otami handle that. You must have your own things to attend to—go take care of those instead.”

Having said this, he tried as much as possible to avoid Takashi’s hands.

“This is strange… Something feels off. I can’t believe this is happening, but… What’s going on here?”

“There’s nothing strange about it. You have your own duties toward me, and Otami can devote herself fully to nursing… They say bedridden patients dislike nothing more than changing caregivers.” “That may be so, but...”

While discussing such matters with her husband, Takashi had one thing that stuck in her mind. Last year, there had been a marriage proposal for Otami—a match too good to pass up—but she had refused it. …Otami had a home in Minami-Senju and had been in service since she was fifteen. A year younger than Takashi, she was a clever and capable girl—not unattractive, with a round-faced, plump figure, petite yet charming. ……There had been several marriage proposals for her before, but she had always shaken her head, insisting she was still too young.

“I want to stay by Miss Takashi’s side my whole life—I hate the idea of getting married.” She had insisted on this. However, last year she had already turned twenty—there was simply no fathoming her reason for refusal. Takashi said jokingly, “Because she likes you.”

She had said such things to her husband before. Since Tokizo had come as a live-in son-in-law, Otami’s demeanor had taken on an inexplicably coquettish air; whenever Tokizo spoke to her, she would suddenly blush or fix him with a moist-eyed gaze. …Once, when they had gone to view chrysanthemums at Rokkenbori, she had inadvertently raised the matter with her husband, only for him to turn away in visible irritation. …Observing Father’s condition since his illness, she couldn’t shake the sense of something unnatural at work—a feeling that gnawed at her.

“It’s fine. Since Father’s fond of it, and Otami isn’t doing it reluctantly either—there’s no need to fret.” “Am I just being jealous?” “Doesn’t seem like you’re the type to let things go easily.” “—I hate you. It’s your fault.” “That again? Don’t you ever get tired of it?” “But it’s true! Before I married you, I never dreamed I’d feel this way—this feeling… I truly hate it myself.”

The words “It’s your fault” were not without basis. Tokizo was the second son of Matsubaya—a household in Nihonbashi Makichō that also ran a bag-making business—with a commanding masculine presence and artisan’s bearing that reportedly set local girls atwitter. It was said he’d even shared a rather intimate relationship with a young female instructor from his Utazawa music lessons. Of course, everything had supposedly been resolved before their marriage, but once they began living together, Takashi came to clearly understand that such facts had indeed existed.

Even after coming to Tamura, Tokizo preferred working over sitting in the shop. He left the shop to Tagoshi, the manager, and shut himself away in his workshop all day long. He wasn’t sociable, spoke little, and always wore a sullen expression—yet there was an inexplicable, intense charm about him. ...some wanted to take full charge of caring for him, others wanted to torment him mercilessly, while still others wished to be treated coldly and made to cry—each reaction differed according to one’s temperament. Yet no matter the case, watching him stirred an urge to somehow engage with him; in short, one simply couldn’t leave him be.

"This is exactly the type that attracts womanizers—the most dangerous kind there is." Takashi felt this truth penetrate her very being. Two full years had passed since their marriage, yet there had never been anything remotely suspicious. Her husband's sincerity appeared unquestionable; there was no room for jealousy whatsoever. Yet even as she found reassurance in this, she couldn't rid herself of the conviction that such peace couldn't possibly last—until before she knew it, she'd be vexing her husband with words that left even herself disgusted.

“It’s all your fault.” For Takashi, there had been no other recourse but to say this.

IV

Ihei passed away in late September.

This had happened a little before that. One night, when she suddenly awoke, the Ariake lamp that was always lit had gone out. Thinking the oil might have run out, she tried to go back to sleep as she was, but for some reason her eyes grew wide awake and she couldn’t sleep. After a while, she quietly got up and tried to go to the washroom, careful not to make a sound. Then, from the other end of the corridor came the soft sound of a sliding door opening, followed by a single low whisper from someone. Thinking Father must have said something to Otami, she stepped into the corridor—and footsteps came toward her. There were high lattice windows, but in the middle of the night, it was pitch dark and impossible to see. Takashi cautiously—

“—Who’s there? Otami?”

she called out. because she thought she shouldn’t collide with them. Evidently unaware until now, the other party appeared thoroughly startled, “It’s me… What’s wrong?” Tokizo answered in a strangely high-pitched voice. “Oh, it’s you. It was too dark to tell.” “What’s wrong? In a place like this… What are you doing?” “Don’t be ridiculous—what could anyone possibly be doing at this hour?”

Takashi laughed softly while saying, “Oh, be careful—the lamp’s gone out,” then brushed past her husband. When her former Tokiwazu instructor fell ill again, she ended up going to visit them with four or five fellow students from her lessons. Unable to spare Otami’s assistance, she went alone bearing a gift for the visit, but since they planned to have dinner together on the return trip, she stopped by the shop in Umenokicho as a precaution. “We’ll likely end up at Hanakawa in Nihonbashi—since O-Fumi and Yon-chan can hold their liquor, we might run late… But if we finish early, I’ll drop by Makichō on the way back,” she informed her husband.

She informed her husband in this manner.

The instructor’s house was in Kobikicho Sanchome. The instructor was a cheerful man in his mid-fifties with nothing more than a strained back muscle—a minor ailment not serious enough to be called an illness. All the friends who had gathered were married and, having grown up in the downtown area while still living there—each full of life—they decided to abandon Hanakawa and instead hold a lively gathering right there. They quickly assigned roles, made the necessary preparations, and began a properly boisterous banquet.

The organizer was O-Fumi. She had been Takashi’s childhood friend and neighbor—her family ran Sano Shō, a large tabi shop—and she had taken in a husband two years before Takashi, already bearing three children. “Don’t let your husband run wild—handle him like a fractious horse! Clamp the bit tight and keep those reins shorter than his temper. Why, I don’t let mine so much as whinny!” She brimmed with such vigor. The housemaid Otami too was someone O-Fumi had looked after. […] Now, being twenty-two or twenty-three-year-old householders who fancied themselves worldly-wise, the gathering took on a raucous air once the sake began flowing. Though Takashi could hold her drink tolerably well, whether from the overly provocative chatter or having imbibed a touch more than usual, she soon grew queasy. Calculating she’d never endure to the end, she artfully made her excuses and slipped out alone.

The hour was still early. Stepping outside and letting the wind hit her, she found nothing amiss. She considered going to Makichō, but even that felt too tedious, so she returned home without stopping by the shop. Then—the house, originally built in dormitory fashion with a sizable garden encircled by a barnacle-studded fence and a small gate woven with bush clover—as she passed through that gate, there in the shadow of the sleeve fence stood Tokizo and Otami deep in conversation.

At this, her heart leaped. Otami seemed to be crying; her husband stood with arms crossed, head bowed, speaking in a low voice. It lasted only an instant—Takashi’s legs nearly froze—but before that could happen, her husband turned toward her....likely having noticed the sound of the gate opening, he turned toward her with a composed gaze, “Just get inside.” he made a gesture as if to say. His composed gaze and utterly unflustered demeanor made Takashi breathe a sigh of relief, and she silently entered the house—yet even as she changed clothes, her chest continued pounding.

“Father scolded me. You’re better off pretending you don’t know.” Tokizo came afterward and said this. After Ihei had recovered from his illness and left his sickbed, Otami’s demeanor had begun to change in some indefinable way. She now wore a perpetually gloomy expression—something never seen before—breaking dishes, lying silently in bed for four or five days claiming stomach pains, and retching in the kitchen at night with disgusting noises.

Then, at the end of October, Otami suddenly declared she wanted to take leave, citing her poor physical condition, and returned to her parents' home in a manner that brushed off all attempts to stop her.

“What could’ve happened? She lived with us seven years, same as everyone else. What on earth got into her to leave like that?” “Probably just a sudden marriage proposal.”

Tokizo said this.

“She wasn’t going to stay forever—she’d leave someday anyway—and since my condition has stabilized now, isn’t that fine?” Ihei had also only said as much.

Takashi found it somewhat resentful, but unable to leave things as they were, she bought the items she had budgeted for—regardless of whether [Otami] would marry—wrapped an appropriate amount of money, and delivered them to the parental home in Minami-Senju. About half a month later, the matter of the housemaid came up, but since there would be no need until the child was born anyway, Takashi decided to manage on her own. “Even so, it’s strange. Could it be that I have a body that can’t conceive a baby?”

“There’s no need to hurry about children.” “But it’s dreadful—every time I meet friends, they tease me without fail! ‘You two are too close,’ or ‘He’s too eager to fetch you,’ they say… Tell me, does such a thing truly exist? Being too close… Oh no—what a strange thing to blurt out! I must be losing my mind.” “Getting excited all by yourself and blushing alone—what a handful you are.”

“Isn’t it fine? Since Otami left, I’ve finally been able to feel this deep sense of connection—this feeling of truly facing each other as husband and wife for the first time. If only we could have a baby soon, it’d be perfect… Maybe I should try praying somewhere.” On the twentieth day of the New Year came the Tokiwazu instructor’s grand recital. As was annual custom, they held it at a rental hall called “Hanshō” in Sanjūgenbori. That day saw all the old disciples gather to liven things up—a place where one might meet rarely seen faces and glean various tidbits of news, so the veterans treated it as a sort of reunion. ……There too, driven not just by economic motives but her born meddlesome nature, O-Fumi took charge. No sooner had the recital ended than she hauled the instructor along,

“Come on, let’s head to our Instructor’s post-recital celebration now!” she declared with gusto. From the disciples’ homes as well, many celebratory stacked boxes and wide-lidded trays had arrived. On top of that, they procured food and drink from a nearby caterer, and a lavish, large-scale banquet began—far from last year’s subdued visit during an illness. ……This time, with a fair number of men mixed in, the women’s commotion had its limits—yet precisely because of this, an indescribably alluring air drifted through the room, and even mature women who looked every bit the proper wives put on airs and tittered.

“Takashi, a moment.” Shortly after the cups began circulating, O-Fumi came and sat down, gazing this way with a faint smile. “What’s wrong? Your husband’s been keeping quiet lately.” O-Fumi spoke with deliberate provocation—having bustled about earlier and consumed alcohol, she now appeared intoxicated, her cheeks shining red like apricots where face powder had peeled away. “Even if you say ‘lately,’ he’s just the same as ever at home—nothing worth mentioning.”

“That’s exactly why you’re failing—you’re the one smitten with your husband! Listen here—whether you’re married or not, between a man and a woman, the one who falls in love loses! You’ve got to make *him* fall for *you*! …Sure, Mr. Tokizo’s a handsome man—even I’d feel tempted to stray a bit—but that’s all the more reason not to show weakness! …Yet here you are, laid bare—head over heels—that’s how you end up in this mess! Honestly! …If it were some courtesan from Yoshiwara or Yanagibashi with a reputation, fine—but losing your husband to a housemaid? That’s a woman’s shame!”

Takashi was dumbfounded. Wondering if O-Fumi was that drunk, she inadvertently laughed and looked at her face again. O-Fumi—however she interpreted this—continued speaking with intense fervor. “And on top of that, Takashi—they say you went and bought her kimonos and a small chest of drawers, even sent money along! Now you’re talking about taking in the baby once it’s born and raising it yourself? If it were me, I’d tear that Otami to shreds! Pull yourself together, Takashi!”

“Otami... what has Otami...”

“Why hide it from me? Wasn’t I the one who took care of Otami? I felt so guilty toward you, Takashi—that’s why I got even angrier and went all the way to Minami-Senju to tell her off! ‘I’ll never see Young Master again,’ she said. ‘Once the baby’s born, I’ll move back to the countryside.’ …She put on this meek face and cried, but who knows what she’s really thinking inside? Haven’t I always told you? You’ve got to keep the bit in your husband’s mouth and the reins pulled tight! …You’re too soft…”

Takashi was no longer listening. The body swayed unsteadily with a feeling of nearly collapsing until at last assaulted by violent nausea and she rose from her seat.

Five

For five days and five nights, Takashi agonized. O-Fumi’s manner of speaking had been direct and unequivocal, leaving no room for doubt that this was anything but a misunderstanding. Whether summarized or not, her husband and Otami had become involved in that way, and Otami had returned to her parents’ home because she was pregnant. She had clearly stated those very facts as facts. She had gone all the way to the house in Minami-Senju, angrily berated her there, and Otami had reportedly apologized in tears. Among them—the words “I will never see Young Master again”—had been particularly cutting. That was undoubtedly a statement that attested to their relationship.

Could it be true…? No—there’s no way. He would never do such a thing with Otami. The more she dwelled on it, the more certain suspicious memories resurfaced for Takashi—the night the ariake lamp had gone out; Otami weeping alone with her husband in the shadow of the sleeve fence; then the coquettish air Otami had adopted after her husband’s arrival; and that fixed gaze she leveled at him, glistening with unspoken intensity.

And then, finally unable to endure any longer, on the sixth night, Takashi asked her husband about the matter. In this moment, she felt that her own life or death would be decided. “Please tell me the truth. I’ll listen calmly… Look, I won’t make a scene or anything—just tell me the truth.” Tokizo remained silent, staring at his knees. His forehead seemed to pale slightly; then after a pause, he spoke as if muttering.

“Forgive me… I’m sorry.” “It’s fine—enough with the ‘forgive me’ talk. That’s enough of that.” Takashi hurriedly interrupted with a laugh. She laughed in an oddly bright manner—even with a buoyant tone that surprised herself. “As long as I know the truth, that’s all that matters… So… when is Otami due to give birth?” “I think it was this May…” “Yes, May—I had to hear that… Because I can’t just pretend not to know, can I? When it comes to childbirth, there’s so much… And even I have things I must do for her… But I’m glad I know now. I had no idea at all—how utterly foolish and oblivious I’ve been.”

“Takashi… I was wrong.” Tokizo raised his face and looked at Takashi. His beautiful clear eyes had gathered tears. “A demon possessed me… It was a mistake… I was truly wrong… Please forgive me.” “It’s fine—really. Everyone makes mistakes—even I… Oh—isn’t Father calling for you?” Takashi scrambled to her feet. Before her husband, she ultimately managed not to cry. She couldn’t even feel resentment. And then for two or three days, her mood remained bright; she laughed as usual and chatted cheerfully. …But one night, when her husband reached for her bedding, in that instant Takashi felt violent nausea. She went to the kitchen and tried to vomit—only to be suddenly assaulted by an anguish and despair as though her chest were being torn apart—and with a moan collapsed there.

“Takashi, what’s wrong? What’s wrong?” When called back to her senses, she found herself being lifted up by her husband. Takashi shook her head and tried to smile. ‘It’s nothing,’ she tried to say, but when she felt the warmth of her husband’s hands against her shoulders, her entire body shuddered as if she had touched a snake, and with a scream, she slipped free from his grasp.

“Takashi, what on earth is wrong?” “Over there… Go over there… It’s nothing… I’m fine… Go over there.” The floorboard rattled from the trembling of her entire body. Tokizo stared fixedly in her direction from the darkness but eventually left the kitchen without a word. And then Takashi’s suffering began. The suffering was physical: first, nausea arose; then came a feeling as if her chest were being pressed in a vise or torn apart. Her vision suddenly turned pitch black, she couldn’t breathe, and she was assaulted by the sensation that she might go mad then and there.

“Ah… This is cruel… Too cruel.” Gasping through heaving shoulders, she muttered; writhing violently, she went where none could see her and wept. “What’s this? Such things happen everywhere—it’s nothing extraordinary, right?” Even as she cried these words, her body convulsed anew—rolling across the floor, seized by an urge to scream aloud. The day had dawned unseasonably warm with a southerly wind that clung oppressively even after dusk fell, leaving air thick enough to coax buds into bloom. Father—whose pallid complexion had lately betrayed recurring stomach troubles—seemed unusually spirited that evening, speaking at dinner of fishing for the first time in ages.

“On a night like this, you’d catch conger eels… but since I’ve only been fishing at the sea lately, I think I’ll try crucian carp this year… Back in Machimachi, I was quite the master at that.” “Father’s all talk—he doesn’t go fishing; he goes drinking.” “Well, they say preparing your catch there and drinking it is the true essence of fishing… but since I can’t drink, it’s no good for me…” Takashi listened to their conversation while recalling Cold Bridge’s night riverbank.

After father and husband had gone to sleep, Takashi, who had been unraveling things for a while, suddenly felt as though someone were calling her. She pushed aside the items on her lap, stood up, and slipped out through the back door without making a sound. It must have been around eleven o’clock. The neighborhood had closed their doors and gone to sleep, but here and there, light leaked out from houses where cheerful voices could be heard. She made straight for the riverbank, went to the crumbled stone wall at Cold Bridge where father always sat, and stood there.

Upstream toward Tsukuda Island, fires burning on boats hazily blurred into the distance, scattered here and there in five or six points. Whitebait nets, perhaps—from around there, voices carried intermittently across the water’s surface. “—Mom” Takashi called softly. The father was lowering his fishing line there; the mother had the housemaid bring tea and a boxed meal, came to his side, and crouched. “You didn’t have to come. If you catch a cold, it’ll be trouble.”

“But I was so lonely… I couldn’t sleep, so I came after having some tea.” “Sorry about this—perfect timing. Since you’re here, why don’t you hook this one for a bit?” “Oh, it’s fine. Then you’ll be cold.” She felt as though she could vividly hear such conversations between Father and Mother being exchanged there, as if they were actually taking place. Father and Mother’s calm, unadulterated warmth of affection—a love where they toiled for each other with unwavering sincerity—…it remained there, exactly as it was, at that stone by Cold Bridge’s bank. Their love still lived there now, there upon that stone… To Takashi, it felt as though she could see it with her own eyes.

“Mom… I’m suffering… Living is agony… Please… Mom… What should I do…?” Takashi peered into the dark water and said. “Even though it’s this agonizing, I can’t hate him—I do hate him, but I can’t let go—I long for him even more than before, and when he comes near me, it makes my skin crawl with disgust… When I’m alone, the pain becomes so unbearable I could die—tell me, Mom, what should I do? Hey, Mom, what should I do?”

From within the lapping waves striking the shore, her mother’s face rose smoothly and beckoned while saying this. “Come… Takashi… Come here… To Mom… Come…” Takashi shuddered, her entire body breaking out in goosebumps. Because it sounded too clear. And while she thought to step back, when her legs staggered forward instead, her shoulders were violently seized by a powerful force.

“Don’t do anything foolish, Takashi.” Startled by this shout at her ear, she writhed and shook off the hand. “What’s that? What’s so foolish about it?” Takashi said while touching her hair. “It’s muggy and my head hurts—I just came out for some river breeze.” “—Takashi…” Tokizo gasped heavily, audibly swallowed his saliva, waved one hand in an odd manner, and then spoke in a hoarse voice.

“Go home right away—Father’s taken a turn for the worse. I’m going to fetch the doctor now.” “—Father—what’s happened?” “He’s vomited blood again—a lot more than before. Go home right away and keep cooling his stomach with a wet towel. I’ll fetch the doctor.” “—Father—” Even as she said this, Takashi was already running off.

Her husband seemed to shout something. But Takashi ran half in a daze, and before reaching home, she fell twice, badly scraping one knee. …Father lay on his back. He had thrown back the bedding to below his chest and lay with his head off the pillow. His face was unpleasantly pale, his cheeks sunken, his soiled mouth hung open as he took rapid, shallow breaths. There had likely been no time to wipe it away; the area remained soiled. Takashi went to the bedside with as calm a movement as possible.

“Father… You’re suffering… He’s gone to fetch the doctor now—he’ll be here soon. Just hold on a little longer. Stay strong, will you?” “It’s alright—I’m not in pain anymore.”

Ihei turned only his eyes toward her. “Takashi—rather than that, I have something to tell you. Come closer.”

Six “But you mustn’t talk now. You need to stay quiet until the doctor comes.” “No—listen. If I don’t speak now, there’ll be no chance… I… Takashi… I’ve wronged you… wronged Tokizo too… Understand? Let me confess—Takashi… The child Otami carries is mine. Not Tokizo’s. Otami is bearing my child.” “Ah—” Takashi gasped.

“Tokizo protected me—shouldered the family’s disgrace himself. He apparently instructed Otami too… Made me promise never to tell you… So I kept silent. But now—I feel this too is wrong. I couldn’t die without confessing… Takashi… Do you understand?” “—Father.” Takashi suddenly grasped her father’s hand and, pressing her cheek against it, burst into tears.

“I’m happy… Father… I’m happy… I’m happy.” And she cried unreservedly with a voice that verged on laughter. Ihei closed his eyes, nodded gently, and spoke.

“I knew well how you were suffering… It must have been unbearable… That feeling of having nothing left to live for… But once you understand—once you see it was my failing—that pain should vanish.” Takashi, still crying, nodded against her father’s hand moistened by her tears. “Humans are weak creatures—even when careful, a moment’s lapse can make us commit mistakes that shock even ourselves… It’s not limited to anyone—all people have such vulnerabilities… Remember this well, understand? …It may never happen, but over time, even Tokizo might stray… When that day comes, endure it. The mistakes between husband and wife must be borne with mutual patience, worked through together, supported together—that is what marriage is.”

While straining to properly grasp her father’s words, Takashi’s mind had already filled with bliss and joy, and she kept crying with a sensation as though her body were melting away.

“It’s a promise—keep this matter locked away in your heart alone… Since everyone’s resolved to keep it that way, you mustn’t tell Tokizo either. Understood?” Ihei stressed this and fell silent.

Then, after just a short while, the doctor came. But there was no time to begin treatment before another massive bout of hematemesis occurred, and he fell into a coma. Shortly after they tried to summon a Dutch-style doctor from Nihonbashi, Ihei finally breathed his last without regaining consciousness. Until the twenty-first-day memorial had passed, Takashi's body and mind did not feel like her own. Tokizo, worried, told her to just sit still and not do anything, shielding her, and in truth she didn't end up doing any work either. And yet, as if constantly driven, restlessly unable to settle, she couldn't sleep soundly at night.

“That’s not true—last night you were snoring away in your sleep. Didn’t even notice when I got up twice, did you?” Her husband said this with a laugh, but she herself didn’t think so—she had clearly lain awake all night, and by daybreak was exhausted and unbearably drowsy.

On the twenty-first-day memorial, after holding the service at the temple, they hosted guests at *Kikuya* in Kana-rokku-chō. There were about thirty guests in total, but since the people from Tanauji were running around handling everything, Takashi could just sit and greet people. …After the reception ended, they stopped by the shop once, and by the time they returned to Kojimachi, it had grown completely dark, with the house aglow with light inside. After sending the caretaker home and being left alone, when they let out a sigh of relief and faced each other, Takashi smiled at her husband with alluring eyes.

“It was so hard, wasn’t it? You must be exhausted, having you take care of everything by yourself… I’m truly sorry… Please forgive me.” “He was your own parent. There’s no need for you to thank me.” “I think Father was happy. He had no regrets left, and with everything you did for him—things not even his own biological child could have done—I believe he truly died in peace.” “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Having said this as if angry, Tokizo suddenly averted his eyes to the side. The strain of over twenty days must have taken its toll—his cheeks were slightly hollowed, his complexion pallid. He lowered his eyes—once averted to the side—and muttered in a low, muffled voice. “I’ve done nothing but cause worry—I thought I’d at least try to pretend to be a dutiful son from now on… Now that he’s gone, I can’t settle my feelings no matter what—I just can’t accept it.” “No, that’s not true—I know everything. Father is thanking you. I don’t even know how happy I am—so happy… I don’t know how to thank you.”

Takashi gently pressed her eyes with the sleeve of her undergarment. Tokizo looked at her suspiciously and spoke as though touching an open wound.

“You say you know everything… What exactly do you know?” “About whose child Otami is bearing—Father told me everything that night after you went to get the doctor. How you shouldered Father’s disgrace, covered it up as your own mistake, even instructed Otami to keep silent… I was such a fool—I didn’t realize any of it and resented you… It was so painful, so sad… Living felt unbearable… That’s why I was happy—so happy, overjoyed… I thought I could die right then.”

“—Father said that? That…the child Otami’s bearing…is Father’s?” “Forgive me.” Takashi clung to her husband’s chest and, trembling, pressed her cheek against it.

“I only thought about myself.” “I only thought about being loved—I never tried to put myself in your place. Father said… humans are weak creatures, that husband and wife must forgive each other, work through them, and support one another… I finally feel I’ve grown up. Even if Otami’s situation had been your mistake, this time… I could accept half the blame. So… I’ll become a better wife from now on. Please forgive me… Forgive everything up till now.”

Then, as Takashi choked back sweet sobs, Tokizo silently embraced her tightly and pressed his cheek to hers. Her tear-soaked cheeks burned like fire. Closing his eyes, Tokizo rocked the wife he held—as though soothing a child—in quiet motions. “When Otami has her child, let’s take them into our home and raise them… I know it’s unfair to you, but we’ll make them yours… They say adopting a child helps you conceive your own—so maybe I’ll have a baby too.”

“What if Otami refuses?” “Otami’s about to be married off—if we explain things properly, she’ll let go… Hmm.” Takashi stifled a laugh through tearful breaths. “O-Fumi will sulk—just like I always said… You’re planning to take in that baby too, aren’t you?… Since we can’t tell her the truth about this, she’ll turn crimson with rage when she finds out.” That night was the first in ages—indeed, the first since they’d become husband and wife—that only one bedding was laid out.

……Though the Peach Festival was near, it was an unseasonably cold night—a lingering spring chill—and the night watchman’s clapper rang sharp and clear through the distant dark. Long past midnight, Tokizo rose quietly and stole soundlessly to the family altar. There he sat upright and bowed his head. “Thank you, Father.”

He whispered this in a low voice.

“This ends here. I swear I’ll never do anything like that again. Please watch over me… I will make Takashi happy.”

He covered his eyes with his arm. A choked sob escaped from his throat. Far in the distance, the night watchman’s clapper rang out clear.