Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Yamamoto Shūgorō

One

The autumn sun had already set.

At his desk, brush in hand and lost in thought, Heisaburo noticed the lighted shoji growing dimmer and more indistinct. Putting down the brush, he quietly stood and opened the window.

In the north-facing garden spread an overgrown female bamboo thicket and a still-young cedar grove.
From the mist-cloaked darkness beneath the trees—startled perhaps by the sound of the shoji being opened—a single quail took flight with a clamorous flapping of wings.
Then, the darkness beneath the trees seemed to grow even darker.

“Right—I’ll meet him and say it plainly.”
He muttered in a low voice.
“...It’s already past time to do so.”

He had retained a vivid impression of that moment long afterward. The gloomy cedar grove at dusk, the clusters of female bamboo leaves hanging silently, the raucous wingbeats of the quail that had taken flight—and even his own low voice, muttered like a soliloquy…

Heisaburo visited Seinosuke Sugawa the following day.
Seinosuke was tending to the orchids in the garden.
Refreshing sunlight gently warmed the softened black soil, while a slightly chilly wind shook the withered leaves of the thorny hedge.
It's better to talk here—Heisaburo thought.
Seinosuke came over, rubbing his soil-covered hands together.

“This year is certain.”
“The buds are firmly attached.”
“I’ll make one bloom for sure.”

“I have something to talk about.”
Heisaburo said while keeping his gaze fixed on his friend.
“...No—it’s better if you don’t hear this after all.”
“It’s actually about Miss Matsuko.”

And Heisaburo began to speak.
Striving as much as possible to avoid embellishing his words or emotions, to refrain from self-justification... Seinosuke listened in silence.
He too had long anticipated that such a moment would arrive.
Only his temples showed a slight pallor; he displayed less surprise than one might have expected.

"We should frame this as a formal consultation, but between us, it would likely become mutual concession."
"That would leave our feelings unresolved."
"If one of us must endure suffering, I believe it's better to make a clean break from the outset."
"This much at least—I want you to understand."

Seinosuke nodded.
Then, brushing the soil from his hands, he quietly looked up at the sky.
In the high sky where clouds drifted, a bird slowly made its way.
The vast, immeasurable distance between that bird and the clouds stirred a sorrowful feeling in his heart.

“Shall I tell Matsuko?”
Seinosuke said while lowering his eyes to his feet.
“...Or would you rather tell her yourself?”

“I think I should be the one to say it, but that would seem too abrupt, and there’s hardly an opportunity.”
“After all, wouldn’t it feel more natural if you found the right moment and spoke to her yourself?”

“That might be the case.”
“Since she seems to have a cold and is sleeping now, when she wakes up…”

The two fell silent, each with their own thoughts.
Heisaburo felt a wavering in his heart.
He was seized by an impulse to abandon everything—to retract his words and yield to Seinosuke.
He did not yield to it, but he could no longer endure staying there any longer. “I leave it to you,” he said, and took his leave.

Seinosuke saw his friend to the gate, then crouched again before an enclosure in a corner of the garden.
There, several varieties of orchids were planted.
Among them was a single rare specimen called the Cold Orchid.
It had been brought over from Ryukyu and was said to bloom in early winter.
He had been diligently tending to it for three years, but until now, the flowers had not bloomed.
This time, with sturdy, promising buds having formed, he was tending to them diligently, determined by all means to make them bloom.

“One of us must suffer,” Seinosuke murmured quietly as he pressed down the soil around the orchid’s roots—soil he had loosened to aerate it.
“...Right—one of us must.”

For several days, he moved through the castle and manor with listless eyes, passing each moment in silence.
Up until this day of turning twenty-two, his association with Heisaburo—unblemished by even the slightest stain—drifted through his mind like a gusting and receding wind.
Both the Kurosawa and Sugawa families were from the same lineage of senior retainers.
The two had inherited their fathers’ association and begun visiting each other from around four or five years of age.
People compared their closeness to water and fish, butterflies and flowers.
Their temperaments were also quite similar.
Heisaburo might have been somewhat more headstrong.
Their grades at the domain school were equally outstanding, and from age twelve, they spent five years together in Edo studying at Shōheikō.
It was said that this was because their lord, Masanori Noto no Kami, had placed his hopes in the combination of their qualities and their abilities.
Indeed, Masanori’s favor toward the two was so profound that such a reputation was well deserved.
Though they never spoke of it aloud, both Seinosuke and Heisaburo had been aware of this fact for some time.
Naturally, their daily conduct and mindset differed from those of other young men, and whatever they saw or considered, they never failed to connect to the domain’s future.

However, even with such an unblemished, rare friendship as theirs, an incident occurred where one of them had to be wounded.

That began with the appearance of a girl named Matsuko Nakahara.

II

Matsuko was the daughter of Ryotayu Nakahara.
As the Nakahara family were distant relatives of the Sugawa household, when Ryotayu and his wife passed away in quick succession, Seinosuke’s father Hyōzaemon took the girl into his home.
Likely due to her unfortunate circumstances, she had initially been a gloomy child of few words.
Until she was thirteen or fourteen, she always seemed to be sulking alone on the verge of tears, but as her stature grew, her features brightened, and her gestures and voice became strikingly beautiful.

Heisaburo and Seinosuke noticed that change at almost the same time.
At the same time, they realized the depth of the emotions drawing them to each other.
Such relationships were not uncommon, and knowing that they often led to foolish outcomes, the two of them exercised excessive restraint.
Of course, they understood that such a state could not last indefinitely—that they would inevitably face a painful moment someday.
For both of them loved Matsuko so profoundly and intensely.

Seinosuke's heart would not calm.
When Heisaburo told him he would take Matsuko as his bride, he even felt as if the tension in his heart had melted away.
Though not entirely composed, he certainly felt something akin to relief.
Yet as time passed, the pain grew stronger, and the despairing sadness of it being beyond retrieval tightened his chest violently.
The matter had already been decided.
There was no way to struggle against it.
Unless a miracle occurred, Matsuko would become someone forever out of reach.
"Ah," Seinosuke must have groaned hundreds of times.
"Ah…"

He had told Matsuko about it because he could no longer endure his pain and despair.
At that time，she had risen from her sickbed and just put up her hair for the first time.
Her ailment—a worsened cold—had not left her emaciated，but with her hair freshly styled，the skin from her cheeks to neck seemed faintly translucent，her moist eyes and listless bearing lending an air of delicate allure bordering on wasted frailty.
Even without this，Seinosuke had felt as though drinking poison，but Matsuko’s uncharacteristic beauty and fragrance-like shyness upon hearing his words struck him down with cruel force.

“I have no words with which to respond,” she answered, lowering her long-lashed eyes and tightly intertwining her fingers on her lap as she spoke in a trembling voice.
“...I wish to act as Uncle and Aunt have said... and as you see fit.”

Naturally, not the slightest hint of refusal was evident.

Everything had ended.
_This is lingering attachment beyond what is proper._
While telling himself this inwardly, his face likely paled.
Seinosuke left the room feeling as though he were being driven out.

The following day.

When he went to Heisaburo’s duty quarters in the castle during the midday rest, about five attendants had gathered and were debating something.
They all wore stern expressions, their eyes glinting sharply as they sat with knees nearly touching—postures of tense deliberation.
Heisaburo alone retained his usual composure, eyes lowered and lips pressed tight as he listened to their discussion, but when he saw Seinosuke enter, he raised a hand to halt the conversation and said, “I’m somewhat occupied now… when we leave the castle.”
Seinosuke nodded and turned back the way he had come.

……The cold began abruptly in the afternoon.
After waiting for Heisaburo, who had been slightly delayed, they left the castle together to find the sky turned pale with faint sunlight. Over the layered mountain ranges encircling them, lead-colored clouds—suggestive of snow—hung oppressively and motionless.

“Fujiroku’s done it again,” Heisaburo said the moment they passed through the Ōtemon gate.
“He called Mashino Sannojō and Matazaku Nakahara to the riding grounds, surrounded them with his men—they say Nakahara’s arm was broken and Sannojō’s head split open.”
“This is dire.”

Seinosuke remained silent and frowned.
The wind sweeping down from Houenji Mountain whipped up dust along the wide, parched roads of the samurai quarter, tearing off withered leaves that clung stubbornly to tree branches as it went.

“The problem is how Wakiya’s influence keeps spreading among the young men.”
“At their age, violence and righteous fury appear needlessly heroic.”
“Leave this unchecked, and it will become irreversible.”

“Indeed, that will surely fester into a cancer,” Seinosuke murmured in a low voice.

“...We must take action.”
“Those who truly care for the domain must be thinking this way.”
“Yet even I myself remain standing idle.”

“Wakiya has foreseen this.”
“That grasping the sword’s hilt proves his own might, and that men do not easily rise against tyranny.”
“He takes root there and grows upward from it.”
“Evil does not grow on its own.”

“But…” Seinosuke uttered hesitantly.

“But... the price paid to uphold righteousness is always great. Therefore, the timing and method of payment must be absolutely certain.”

III

The Sugawa residence was located in Shimo-Genroku.
When they came to the fork in the road, Heisaburo turned his steps toward the town.
He still seemed to have something left unsaid.
Along the path that sloped upward at its start, the two descended toward the Kuzuryū River.
The eaves of the town grew steeped in twilight’s hues, and a freezing wind rustled through house overhangs, tree branches, and withered roadside grasses. ……They walked until reaching a place where, beyond the fading light, they could see the river’s flow—chillingly cold—before turning back.

“I told Matsuko.”
When they parted, Seinosuke said this.
“…She seems to have no objection.”

Heisaburo could no longer bear to look at his friend’s face.
He turned his face away and said thank you.

Seinosuke deliberately focused his thoughts on Fujiroku Wakiya’s problem.
Fujiroku was the son of Shichiroemon Wakiya, one of the senior retainers.
From boyhood, he had possessed an exceptionally robust physique, but his mind was simple—leaning toward foolishness.
Being the son of a senior retainer with physical prowess and limited intellect—these conditions alone made the outcome predictable, provided his upbringing was lacking.
All the more so as Shichiroemon indulged his son.
The parental weakness of doting most on foolish children lay exposed.
As Fujiroku grew older, he came to understand the value of his parent’s authority and his own physical strength.
And these two things not only compensated for his foolishness but granted him power... Why not seize power?
Depending on circumstances, he could rise to become chief retainer.
Fujiroku had reached the age where such desires stirred within him.
This naturally became a catalyst for noticing opposition.

He discovered the domain’s popular trust hinged on the future forged between Seinosuke and Heisaburo.
He flew into a rage.
First he raised an indignant cry for his lord’s century-spanning legacy.
“Entrust governance to such bookish weaklings,” he shouted, “and Katsuyama Domain’s fate will be sealed!”
This soon calcified into an obsessive conviction that convinced him he was a patriot of his own making.

It was this past winter that they raised the solemn banner of alliance under the name of the Nanigashi Society.
He brandished the pretext of reviving warrior traditions, joining forces with simpleminded youths—all brawn and no brains, like monkeys—and began his rampage.
They beat those deemed weaklings and humiliated those who refused to join their alliance.
People avoided them.
People turned a blind eye to their actions.
Believing it foolish to oppose such ignorance and violence... Fujiroku now settled himself arrogantly upon this state of affairs, brimming with bottomless confidence.
And unmistakably, he began to display the momentum to challenge Heisaburo and Seinosuke head-on.

It was a day of cold drizzle.
Shortly before noon, Heisaburo came to visit Seinosuke at the duty room.
Heisaburo blurted out before even sitting down that he had just been summoned by the chief elder.
A messenger had come from Lord Noto no Kami, who was currently stationed in Edo, bearing a black-ink missive stating that since the shogunate had issued an order desiring instruction in Ogasawara School etiquette, he believed either Seinosuke or Heisaburo should be dispatched to the capital as suitable candidates.
Therefore, after consulting with the senior retainers, he had been ordered to proceed to Edo.

“At any rate, I’ve managed to secure some time to think…”
Heisaburo said in an uncharacteristically insistent tone.
“...This isn’t my responsibility.”
“You must be the one to go.”
“Since that’s how I intend to respond, I need your compliance.”

“I must decline, though I appreciate the offer.”
“When it comes to the senior council’s deliberations, they are not a trivial matter.”
“Unlike other matters, this concerns the vital traditions of our domain.”
“To all eyes, that it should be you remains beyond dispute.”
“You should accept it.”

“But I—”
Heisaburo pressed on, continuing his words.
“……I don’t want to go to Edo now.”
“...and I also want to settle things with Miss Matsuko…”

“If personal matters are your reason for refusal, then all the more so.”
“Very well, even if that’s not all there is to it,” Seinosuke said coldly, averting his eyes.
“…The assignment won’t take excessively long. If one of us must remain in Katsuyama, it should be me.”

“Is there a hidden meaning behind those words?”

“There’s no particular meaning.”
“But in everything we do, you and I must combine our strength.”
“If we stand together with hands firmly joined, we can overcome nearly any hardship.”
“But acting alone won’t do.”
“That was what I wanted to say.”

Heisaburo nodded.
The reason Seinosuke did not want to leave him behind was because he had inferred that something was certain to occur between him and Fujiroku Wakiya.
Indeed, Heisaburo had been thinking about that matter.
With the moderate Seinosuke present, it would be difficult to take decisive measures.
After having him depart for Edo, I’ll create an appropriate opportunity and subdue Fujiroku and his faction in one swift move.
I had resolved to do this.
However, Seinosuke had already inferred that.
And once he had inferred as much, it was evident he wouldn’t act.
They could not refuse the words “together as two.”
Heisaburo left the duty room dejectedly.

It took several days until departure.
The etiquette and protocols of the Ogasawara family were closely guarded secrets passed down through generations.
Their origins traced back to the distant Jōan era.
When Emperor Takakura suffered an affliction, Lord Tomomitsu Ason, Governor of Shinano, performed the ritual of twanging a bowstring in the courtyard of Shishinden Hall. By auspicious fortune, the emperor recovered, and an imperial decree granted Tomomitsu’s lineage perpetual use of the royal “王” character as their family crest.
Since then, as Third Rank Chief Administrators, they had overseen all matters of court and shogunate protocol—traditions kept as secret teachings never divulged to outsiders.
Even when faced with formal inquiries from the shogunate, articles deemed secret were never disclosed, making the drafting of responses a task fraught with difficulty.
Thus it was on the fifth day after the messenger arrived from Edo that Heisaburo’s departure was finalized.

IV

It was the eve of Heisaburo’s departure for Edo.
Shortly after finishing his evening meal, Heisaburo suddenly entered from the garden and knocked on Seinosuke’s sitting room.
He said there was something to discuss just between the two of them and that he didn’t want the family to hear, then sat down.
Seinosuke stirred the embers in the brazier while looking into his friend’s eyes.
They bore an exceptionally powerful light, and despite having come along the cold night path, his cheeks were flushed crimson.

“I’ve finally dealt with Wakiya.”

“What happened?”

“Today, when I was leaving the castle, he came charging at me in the masugata gate of the Ninomaru.”
“He made as if to round the stone wall and violently slammed his body into mine.”
“And it was a false accusation.”

“Surely you didn’t accept it?”

“You can imagine what kind of abuse he spewed.”
“It was premeditated from the start.”
“His attitude would provoke anger by any means necessary.”
“I tried my best to endure it, but…”

“Even though you have official duties tomorrow—and though I told you just the other day…”

“If you had been there, you would have understood.”
“I never lost sight of priorities.”

“So, what do you intend to do?”

“A duel challenge just arrived from Fujiroku.”
“The challenge proposes we meet at Nagayama Hill at dawn the day after tomorrow.”
“Sugawa,” Heisaburo said quietly, gazing at his friend’s face.
“……It’s unavoidable.”
“Please—you must go to Edo instead.”

“Kurosawa, I refuse.”
“Won’t you reconsider, Kurosawa?”
“If it comes to a duel, you must cut down your opponent.”
“The result would be your own seppuku!”

“Of course.”
“And this is something someone must do for the domain’s future.”
“Someone must……”

“Ah, that’s so like Heisaburo.”
“Too much like Heisaburo.”
“To quell violence with violence is futility itself.”
“Does your headstrong nature find purpose only in such things?”
“You mustn’t.”
“You absolutely must not.”
“You will depart for Edo at the appointed hour.”

“But what of the promise between samurai?”
“Are you telling me to heap further disgrace upon myself?”

“I will go to Nagayama Hill.”
“You may laugh and call it moderation, but moderation is not without its virtues.”
“Leave Fujiroku to me.”

“Do you truly believe this will end peacefully?”

“There are several ways to put out a fire.
Burning your hands to smother it is one way.
But when water can douse it, there’s no need to scorch your hands.
I’ll resolve this with moderation before you return.
I’ll handle what follows.
Go with peace of mind.”

Will it be alright?
There’s no mistake here—after pressing the matter time and again, Heisaburo finally left, though his heart remained unsettled.

The next morning, he saw Heisaburo off to the edge of the castle town together with his fellow retainers.
The winter sky turned a painfully vivid blue, and among the distant mountain ranges where clouds drifted, peaks already crowned with snow could be seen.
Heisaburo departed for Edo, accompanied by a servant, straight along the path between harvested fields still covered in unmelted thin ice.
...Seinosuke took leave from his castle duties that day, shut himself in the living room, and spent the entire day occupied with something.
Since he said he would eat lunch in the living room as well, Matsuko brought the tray.
He spread letters, booklets, and drafts across the entire living room and sat writing intently at his desk.

“If you need help tidying up, I would be happy to assist.”

“Oh, it’s already done.”
He came and sat down before the tray.
“…I’ve neglected this for too long, so this is how it is.”
“Later, when I burn the drafts, could you lend me a hand?”

Until the meal was finished, he did not raise his eyes.

In the afternoon, as the sun began to tilt, he carried out letters, drafts, old diaries, and such to the garden.
Matsuko brought over the fire to the kindling.
In a corner of the vegetable garden, he dug a hole and began burning the drafts within it.
It was a windless, gloomy day, and around the mixed grove behind the mansion, the singing of thrushes could be heard incessantly.

“When Kurosawa returns from Edo,” Seinosuke said in a calm, warm tone, tearing up an old diary and casting it into the fire. “...He’ll formally propose that matter as soon as he returns.” “You won’t hesitate, will you?”

“Yes…”

Unthinkingly, she pressed a hand to her chest.

“He is an exceptional man.
For our domain’s sake—an indispensable man who will become Katsuyama’s cornerstone.
As your husband-to-be, his worth speaks for itself.
Matsuko… you will find happiness.”

“But... as Lord Heisaburo’s wife... can I become someone who won’t bring shame?”

“Heisaburo loves Matsuko.”
“It is a manly, pure, and deep love.”
“That will sustain everything.”
“If you believe in his love, Matsuko, you can become a happy and good wife.”

Because the smoke drifted over, he blinked and coughed, then stood up and moved to the side.

“Ah... It’s so smoky.”
“My eyes are completely stinging now.”

V

When everything had turned to ashes, he filled the hole.
Matsuko went around to the vegetable garden under pretext of gathering evening greens when she suddenly called out from there.
The orchid had bloomed.
When he went to check it was true.
A single Cold Orchid had blossomed quietly.
Its five deep purple petals bore a vivid vermilion mark near the stem base.
Thinking of what this day meant he crouched down.
Within its straw enclosure lingered an elegant fragrance.
It had chosen this very day to bloom.
Bound by sorrowful attachment as if through invisible threads of fate he gazed endlessly at the flower.

The following morning, while it was still dark, Seinosuke slipped out of the house and headed for Nagayama Hill.
The roofs of houses and the roads alike were blanketed in snow-white frost, and the crisp sound of it crunching underfoot could be heard.
Nagayama was a hill located east beyond the castle town, enveloped in deep forests of pine, cedar, and oak, but at its rear where the Kōbudai stood, there lay a flat grassland.
Seinosuke climbed toward that spot.
The milky morning mist hung thinly over the ground where withered grass clung, trailing in streaks.
From the waist down, obscured by the morning mist, the figure of Fujiroku Wakiya could be seen in a corner of the grassland.
Accompanying him were three young samurai.
Seinosuke gazed at the scene as he approached with quiet footsteps.

“Well, you’ve come.”
Fujiroku said in a hoarse voice.
“...Is Kurosawa with you?”

“I’m alone.”
“Kurosawa departed for Edo.”

“He fled?”
Fujiroku contorted his face into a sneer and stomped boldly closer.

“...So, in other words, you’re just some pathetic excuse for a messenger?”

“That is not the case. I am Kurosawa’s substitute.”

“What? A substitute… So you intend to cross swords with me?”

“Exactly.” Seinosuke nodded while adjusting his attire. “...Kurosawa is a man Katsuyama Domain cannot do without. I have grown up with him since childhood, and I know better than anyone what kind of man he is. If either of us must die, it will not be him—it will be me. This is not friendship. For the sake of Katsuyama Domain’s next hundred years.”

“I delivered a duel challenge to Heisaburo. If I refuse to duel you, what then?”

“That’s impossible.”

Seinosuke had already untied the hakama’s thigh ties and removed his outer garment.

“...Because it makes no difference whether you consent or not. I will cut down Fujiroku Wakiya.”

“Heh heh heh.”
With this mocking cry, Fujiroku leapt back several paces.
A combative spirit blazed across his face as though set aflame, his eyes abruptly emitting a murderous gleam.
“…This guy’s serious.”
This one’s got backbone.
“Very well—I’ll take you on! Draw!”

Seinosuke tapped the ground with his right foot’s tip and quietly drew his sword.
At that moment, the three young samurai standing across began closing in.

× × × ×

The Ogasawara family’s Edo residence was located at the edge of Shitaya Pond.

Heisaburo arrived, rested for three days, and on the fourth morning received a summons to ascend to the castle.
Then, having been led by his lord Masanori Noto no Kami into the Hall of Wild Geese, he had scarcely entered when a messenger from the residence hurried in to announce that an urgent envoy had come from Katsuyama.
The urgent envoy had been duty-bound to deliver his report even during an audience at the castle.
Masanori Noto no Kami met the messenger in the corridor.

“October seventeenth, at dawn,” the messenger promptly stated.
“…At Nagayama Hill outside the castle walls, I humbly report that Seinosuke Sugawa and Fujiroku Wakiya engaged in a duel arising from personal grievances, whereupon Sugawa struck down Wakiya and subsequently committed ritual suicide on the spot without departing.”

“Seinosuke… Seinosuke…”
With a guttural cry that resembled a groan, Masanori Noto no Kami cried out.

However, Heisaburo’s astonishment defied comparison.
I will resolve this peacefully—the voice of Seinosuke who had said those words still rang in his ears.
The calm, resolute expression remained etched in his vision.
And yet… and yet, he had cut down Fujiroku and taken his own life.
So those words had been meant to reassure me?
Had he already resolved to do this when we last spoke?
Had I failed to grasp such profound resolve?
Heisaburo unconsciously drove his fist into his knee.
At that moment, the messenger bowed deferentially and edged closer.

“Though improper within the castle precincts, with my lord’s permission I deliver this.”
Having said this, the messenger presented a document box wrapped in a ceremonial cloth.
“Brought by an urgent envoy from our domain—a letter from Seinosuke Sugawa addressed to you.”

Heisaburo looked at the lord.
Masanori nodded.
And so, he slid from his seat and quietly unfolded the ceremonial cloth.
When he opened the lid of the document box adorned with the Sugawa family crest, an elegant fragrance that had been confined within assailed his face.
……Inside lay a single orchid bloom, reverently placed.