Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Ken’s mother was scheduled to take baby Katsuko to Kobe Hospital again tonight.
Ken wanted desperately to go with his mother to Kobe somehow or other, but she absolutely refused.
He stood sulking beside her as she packed and repacked their large willow trunk with clothes and daily necessities spread across every inch of floor.
No matter when or where they went before – whether festivals or school sports days – his mother had always carried Katsuko on her back while holding Ken’s hand.
She had taken him along every time.
Yet she stubbornly refused to bring him to Kobe.
Last time and now again this time – only Katsuko got taken along while Ken was told to mind Grandmother’s house in the next village over.
Resentment swelled inside him.
Though he’d never once ridden a steamship himself – not even once – that baby sister of his had already been on two trips.
What Ken wanted more than anything was to ride that steamship hand-in-hand with his mother all the way to Kobe.

“Hey Ken, I’ll bring you souvenirs—toys, bananas, all sorts of things.”
“Even though you’re smart, Ken—wait at Grandmother’s house, okay?”

Mother repeated her words for what must have been the umpteenth time, stopped packing, and gazed at Ken’s face.

“Ugh!”
“I’m goin’ to Kobe too, I tell ya!”

Ken had retorted for what must have been the umpteenth time.
With a stubborn jerk, as if refusing to go to Grandmother’s house, he shrugged his shoulders and took a step back.

“Hmm, well then, I suppose it’s all right if Ken turns into a fool.”

Mother turned around and drew her knees closer to Ken.

“Mm-hmm，it’s all right even if I turn into a fool.”

“I see．Well then，Ken’s a fool now—a fool like Hanbe．”
“Even so，that’s fine．”

“Mm-hmm，that’s fine．”

Ken had always hated becoming a fool．
The sight of Hanbe—the village idiot，a hulking giant lumbering heavily as he wandered aimlessly through town all day—was what frightened him most in all the world．
To avoid ending up like Hanbe，Ken obeyed Mother，ran errands，and quit his mischief．
But today was different．
If going to Kobe with Mother meant becoming Hanbe later，he thought，then so be it．
Mother looked at Ken’s deadly serious face and burst out laughing．

“Ken, do you want to go to Kobe that badly?”

“Mm, I want to go.”
“Ken wants t’go! Wants t’go real bad!”
“I wanna ride the steamship, I tell ya!”

Ken relaxed his pouting face and, looking at Mother, smiled.

“This is a problem—Ken says it’s fine even if he becomes a fool.”

Mother turned back and began packing again.
Ken blinked rapidly as he watched Mother’s hands working busily.
But in the end, she packed Katsuko’s Western clothes and kimono, along with Mother’s kimonos, haori jackets, and new bundles of yarn into the trunk, then closed the lid.
Then, she wrapped Ken’s change of clothes and apron in a separate furoshiki cloth.
Seeing this, Ken reverted to his sulking expression, turned sharply away, and hung his head.
Mother rolled up the sleeves of her white apron, pushed the finished luggage to the corner of the room, and swished the broom vigorously—swish, swish.

“Oh, there’s a big piece of trash here.”
“My, this trash has legs! How funny—why, it’s even wearing clothes...”
“Well now, I thought it was trash, but it’s Ken.”

Mother circled around to Ken’s front and gradually shifted her gaze upward from his feet.
Ken did not laugh and try to run away as he usually would but instead turned his back sharply.
After sweeping around that spot alone, Mother went to Katsuko—who was lying asleep in the adjacent room—and changed her kimono, then came to Ken’s side and silently undressed him, swiftly changing him down to his underpants with practiced hands as he stood motionless like a limp doll.
It was Ken’s favorite camel-colored woolen Western-style clothes.
Pouring water from the kettle onto a towel, she roughly clutched Ken’s head and wiped his face.
Then, changing into her striped merino everyday clothes, she hoisted Katsuko onto her back with the dressy purple arrow-patterned kasuri haori and briskly went about securing the house.
Ken, as if being driven out, reluctantly stepped out onto the veranda.
The shoes were neatly arranged.
They were the New Year’s leather shoes sent by Father in Tokyo.
Even so, Ken’s feelings didn’t ease.

“Come on, hurry up and put on your shoes.”

Mother squatted down holding one shoe as she waited.
Ken stood silent and rigid on the veranda with limp arms dangling—his face a muddle of vacant bewilderment, sullen resentment, and tearful fragility.
Mother made a troubled face, set the shoe back down, and settled onto the veranda.
From her seated position she gazed vacantly toward Kannon Mountain where it drifted into view.
From the mountain came the endless tolling of bells—gong, uonn uonn—their echoes rippling through the air.
Patches of mixed forest on the mountainside bloomed with spring equinox cherries alone flaring vivid pale pink as if spring had stolen a march there.
Terraced fields stepped down from mid-slope to foothill homes while along pilgrimage paths winding through green wheat and citrus groves flashed glimpses of white-robed pilgrims descending—their hymns ringing clear enough to catch in one’s hands.

Eventually, Mother came near Ken and peered into his face.

“Ken, how old’d you turn after New Year’s came?”

It was a gentle voice.
He now wore a face that seemed to have given up on going to his grandmother’s house.
Ken found himself drawn in.

“Five.”

“How old’d Katsuko turn now?”

“Two.”

“Ken ’n’ Katsuko—who’s older?”

“Ken.”

“Well then, between Ken and Katsuko, who’s smarter?”

“Ken!”

Ken puffed up with pride. His big nose spread out, and when he relaxed his cheeks and smiled, his round face with sagging cheeks grew larger. Mother, still smiling, brought her face closer and clasped Ken’s shoulders with both hands.

“Ken and Katsuko—who listens to Mother more?”

“Ken!”

“All right! In that case, Ken will go to Grandma’s house.”

Mother pressed on with logical reasoning.
Ken, caught off guard, hurriedly stamped his feet,

“Ugh, ugh! Ken’s goin’ to Kobe!”
“I ain’t goin’ to Grandma’s house! Won’t go! Let Katsuko go ’stead! Ken ain’t goin’!”

He stomped noisily on the veranda.
Mother suddenly made a stern face and let go of Ken’s shoulders.
She stood up and turned sharply away.

“Well then, Ken can stay by himself.”
“Come on, Katsuko—let’s go to Grandma’s house and play with Taro and Hideko. Come on now.”

Mother started walking while twisting her neck to speak to Katsuko on her back but turned back briefly and picked up the bundle of Ken’s clothes wrapped in a furoshiki cloth.

“Well then—goodbye, Ken-chan... I do love Katsuko so much.”
“Ken-chan—you’re such a silly boy.”

Mother showed her rounded back and walked away without looking back this time.
She passed through where stepping stones were laid and went by the neighbor’s chicken coop.
She turned right and finally disappeared from view.

“Mooother!”
“Mother’s gone and left!”

Ken burst into loud, full-throated sobs, nearly tumbling off the veranda as he slid down and ran off barefoot. When he suddenly looked, Mother's face peeked out from beside the chicken coop. Laughing, she beckoned him over. Ken came to a stop, ceased crying, and turned sharply away. He looked down sucking his thumb while muttering "Ah, ah," as the sound of Mother's geta approached. This time wearing a truly resigned expression, Mother came back. She took Katsuko off her back to let her urinate, then sat on the veranda and began breastfeeding. Katsuko groped for the breast and rubbed her face against it. Frowning so deeply that the flesh between her eyebrows bulged, she kept her eyes downcast while drinking with noisy gulps.

“Katsuko, open your eyes and look.”
“Hey, open your eyes.”

Speaking as if to a child who could understand, Mother brought her face close to Katsuko.

Even as her second birthday approached, Katsuko showed no recognition when shown toys and didn’t blink even when fingers were fluttered near her eyes.
And yet her eyeballs kept moving incessantly, round and round.
When looked at closely, her pupils glinted whitely like fish eyes.
And yet in bright places, she would always frown, keep her eyes shut, hang her head and never lift her face.
While other babies born around the same time all grew up charmingly and gradually gained understanding, Katsuko maintained an unsmiling earnest face no matter how much time passed.
Even when shown a red rattle she wouldn’t reach out, but when placed in her hand and shaken she would finally laugh upon hearing the sound.
While restlessly moving her unfocused eyes she would vigorously shake the rattle and smile.
But even if she dropped it due to some impulse she wouldn’t try to reach out until made to grasp it again.
The thought that the dropped rattle might return to her hand never crossed her mind.
Without crying and with a quiet expression she merely moved her eyeballs.
She knew neither the joy of seeing things nor how to make a fuss nor even to cry and demand something she wanted.
While possessing a plump round body that never caught so much as a cold Katsuko’s emotional world seemed hindered in its growth beyond matters tied to appetite.
Even those were entirely passive except when being breastfed.
Only when something was pressed against her lips would she open her mouth.
Every time villagers praised her as a well-behaved child Mother alone felt a pang of sorrow.
Katsuko did not recognize Mother’s face and came to rejoice or cry upon hearing her voice.
About two or three months ago during New Year holiday she had gone around to various eye doctors to have her examined.

The prognosis had been that after waiting four or five years, they would give up as if having reached a mutual understanding, but only the Kobe doctor delivered a diagnosis stating that although she couldn’t see, she could perceive light and darkness.
It was explained that her restlessly moving eyeballs manifested the optic nerve’s diligent efforts to somehow achieve sight, and therefore it was advised to perform the surgery as soon as possible before those diligent activities ceased.

“Even though she’s desperately trying to see, if we leave it untreated, the optic nerve will give up and stop making any effort to see.”

Hearing this, Mother burst into tears.
She had been happy.
But Mother, not wealthy enough to have the surgery performed immediately, had no choice but to abandon her hopes temporarily and return home.
It was midwinter’s peak cold, and Mother’s knitting shop had piled-up orders she couldn’t neglect.
Ken’s father hadn’t found decent work for ages, forcing Mother to support herself and her two children alone.
What had started four or five years earlier as a nimble-fingered side job knitting woolens had now become her main occupation—running a small yarn shop alongside it kept her business at its busiest.
Day and night she kept those knitting needles moving.

Father would return home occasionally but soon disappear again, so Ken and his siblings always lived as a three-person household.
How could they possibly manage things like undergoing surgery or being hospitalized for three whole weeks in such a life?
However, it absolutely had to be done.
Mother could not forget the words “the optic nerve’s efforts,” and waited for spring each day with heartrending impatience.
The diagnosis was congenital cataracts. Upon hearing this term, all of Father’s family had resigned themselves to Katsuko being blind for life, but Mother alone refused to abandon hope.
She wished to let her see even a little.
And finally, today was the day to go to that Kobe hospital.

“Katsuko, why won’t you open your eyes like that?”

Mother kept looking only at Katsuko’s face.

“Katsuko, open your eyes and look.”
“Hey, open your eyes and show me.”

Ken gingerly approached Mother.
He gently placed both hands on Mother’s knees and looked up at her face.
She couldn’t breastfeed as usual.
Katsuko leaned against Mother’s right arm, moving her pale chin with each suckle.
Ken gulped down his saliva.
Mother still paid no attention to Ken and kept staring intently at Katsuko’s face.

A Japanese white-eye chirped as it hopped along the branches of an apricot tree with reddening buds.
Suddenly, Mother separated Katsuko from her breast, held her up, and turned her face toward the sunny spot.
Katsuko, startled, frowned and hung her head as if dazzled, twisting her upper body as she clung to Mother’s chest.

She really was sensing the light...

While muttering under her breath，she took two or three steps，gently moving Katsuko’s head away from her body．And standing on the paving stones，she once more turned Katsuko’s face toward the unrelenting afternoon sunlight．Katsuko clung desperately to Mother，pressing her face tightly against Mother’s torso．

“There there, I know, I know.”
“Poor thing, hang in there Katsuko. Won’t you be able to see soon?”

When they returned to the veranda, Katsuko—as if finally relieved—loosened her clinging hands and slightly pulled her face away from Mother’s chest.
Whether due to her poor eyesight or not, she had thin eyelids with dark-rimmed lashes lowered over them, a furrow carved above her knitted brows as if concentrating all her nerves into her forehead, chin pressed to chest, remaining completely bowed down.

――She really does have the look of a blind person――

Mother let out a deep sigh and had her suckle again, but Katsuko abruptly let go.
With her head bowed and brows furrowed, she pressed both hands against the breast.
It was one of Katsuko’s gestures when she was satisfied.
Mother fastened her exposed chest, wrapped her in the carrying haori, and laid her down in a corner of the veranda.
Staring down at Katsuko—who lay still as she was laid down, without moving a muscle—from above in a posture that seemed to loom over her, Mother finally straightened her back and turned toward Ken.
And then, picking up Ken—who had been quiet all this while—backward-facing onto her lap, she sat down on the veranda edge.
Ken, relieved, tried to turn around to face Mother behind him, but Mother’s hand pressed down on his head, forcibly directing it toward Kannon Mountain and wouldn’t let him move.

“Ken, stay still now. Look, can you see?”

“I can’t see.”

Ken had his eyelids pinched.

“Ken, I’ll give you this caramel. Here it is.”

Mother put on a formal tone.
Ken stretched out both hands and giggled sheepishly.

“Here, Ken-chan. The caramel.”
“Don’t you want the caramel?”

“I do.—Camel, hurry up and give it.”

“Come now, take the caramel quickly.”

Frustrated, Ken threw off Mother’s hand.
The caramel was nowhere to be seen.
It wasn’t in Mother’s hands or tucked in her bosom.
Ken fumbled through Mother’s sleeves and peered behind her.
Nowhere to be found.

“Camel… camel isn’t here.”

He stared searchingly, wondering whether she was hiding it somewhere or lying.
Mother laughed as she pulled the handbag closer and took out a caramel to show him.

“This caramel—I’ll give this to Ken, okay?
“This is Ken’s caramel now—see? I’ll put it right here so Ken can take it himself.”

The caramel clunked against the veranda boards.
When Ken smiled and reached for it, Mother blocked his hand and covered his eyes again.
This time she pressed down with her palm.

“Come on, Ken-chan, take the caramel. Take it by yourself.”
“If you take it by yourself, then it’s all yours.”

Ken thought Mother was being unusually playful and laughed with shrill delight.
He slid down from her knees, thrust both hands forward, and began moving blindly while still covered. Mother bent at the waist and followed his movements.
Like a blindfolded child veering right and left, Ken giggled as he groped about within arm’s reach, but on the left side his hands only brushed against Katsuko’s clothes—the caramel stayed frustratingly out of grasp.

“Let go of my hands! Come on, Mother, let go of your hands!”

Mother’s hand clung stubbornly and wouldn’t let go.
Ken became frantic and tried to snatch it away.
Gritting his teeth and grunting “unh-unh,” he tried prying her fingers off one by one.
As soon as one came free, another would clamp down.
Ken was on the verge of tears.
He nearly let out a sob.
He breathed with his shoulders.
Suddenly, Mother’s fingers began to gradually part.
When he held his breath—he could see, he could see—the caramel was visible between the fingers.
In the middle of the veranda, a red box sat isolated and visible.
It’s over there.
When he tried to hurry closer, Mother closed her fingers again, sealing them tighter than before.
Her palm pressed hard against his temples—it hurt.
This time, her fingers wouldn’t let go.
Ken let out a cry, and finally Mother’s hand let go.
Pressed too hard, Ken couldn’t see anything for a moment.
He fluttered and rubbed his eyes, and his vision gradually came into view.
Mother peered in and was laughing.
Mother pressed the caramel into Ken’s hand, then turned him around to face her and lifted him up.

And she stared fixedly at Ken’s eyes.
Ken also looked up at Mother’s eyes while laughing.
For a while, the two of them were laughing.
Before long, Mother hugged Ken tightly.

“Ken, you’re such a clever boy—truly clever, Ken—so listen well to what Mother tells you.”
“See, Ken couldn’t see anything just now, right?”
“Because I covered your eyes.”
“Even if I covered your eyes and you still couldn’t see, what would you do?”

“I don’t like that.”

Ken blinked his eyes fiercely and looked up at Mother’s face as though contemplating something deeply.

“Ken—even if I gave you caramel right now—look here—even if I gave you a toy right now—you couldn’t see any of it.”
“You wouldn’t even know what kind of toy it was.”
“If I told you ‘Eat your meal,’ Ken—couldn’t see your bowl.”
“Even if Tad-chan and Mi-chan came calling ‘Let’s play!’—couldn’t see their faces.”
“Couldn’t even see that mountain.”

Mother pointed at Kannon Mountain.
Ken also turned to follow her gesture.
Near the mountain’s peak, white clouds drifted slowly.

“And then, look—even if a steamship comes to the pier, you couldn’t go see it.”
“Great big warships might come someday—look, out at sea in the evening, all lit up blazing bright—even if those came, you wouldn’t see them. And if you were walking down the road when some terrifying, terrifying horned bull came charging at you, you wouldn’t see it with your eyes and would get gored by its horns.”
“Blood will come out.”
“How dreadful!”
“What if you were blind?”
“Is being blind good or bad?”

“Bad!”
“If a bull gores you, it’ll hurt!”

Ken poked his own forehead with his right index finger and made a pained face as if a bull had gored him.
Mother also made a pained face.
And then,

“Of course it hurts! If a bull gores you, it’ll hurt!—So Ken, do you like being blind or not?”

“I don’t like it!”

He knitted his brows, scowled, and answered firmly.

“I don’t like it. It’s so pitiful to be blind.”

Mother nodded to Ken, took out a handkerchief from her sleeve, and alternately pressed it to her eyes.

“Hey Ken, isn’t it wonderful that your eyes can see?”
“Because Katsuko can’t see with her eyes, she can’t see Mother’s face or Ken’s either.”
“Poor Katsuko.”

“Hmm, so Katsuko would get gored by a bull?”

“Yes, that’s why she goes to Kobe—the doctors there will put in painful eye drops so her eyes can see. But Ken’s eyes already see fine, so there’s no need for him to go get eye drops.”
“Katsuko has to hurry and get those eye drops applied soon, or she’ll be pitiful, you know.”

Mother pressed her eyes again, then let out a stifled cough and blew her nose.
Ken gazed resentfully at that unfamiliar face.

“Mother—Ken will wait at Grandmother’s house then.”
“Play with Taro and Hideko at Grandmother’s house and wait.”
“Play at the beach and wait—okay?”

“……”

“Mother—Ken will wait without crying.”
“Hey Mother—next time—if Ken goes blind—then you’ll take me to Kobe.”
“So Ken will wait at Grandmother’s house.—I’ll give caramel to Katsuko.”

Ken gently slid down from Mother’s lap—she still kept the handkerchief pressed to her face—and drew close to Katsuko, who had been laid down without crying and had fallen asleep unnoticed.

“Katsuko, your big brother will give you caramel.”
“I’ll give you two. Here, here—shall I take the paper for you? Katsuko’s so clever.”

Two

Along a small inlet facing south, the village road ran as a boundary between sea and land, stretching east and west, while forty or fifty houses faced the sea, backed by a wide hill lined with terraced fields.
Ken’s grandmother’s house was located around the middle of this village and sold stamps and postcards.
On the plank wall beside the gate hung a red square postal box.
Every day around noon, the postman would come to open that box.

About a month had already passed since Ken came to Grandmother’s house.
Ken loved the postman who sometimes brought letters from Mother, and today too, when he saw that figure, he suddenly got up from where he had been lying alone on the veranda looking at a picture book and ran off.
The postman rattled a large key and opened the side of the box.
The opening was just above Ken’s eye level, so if he stood on his tiptoes, he could see inside clearly.
Letters and postcards were always piled up inside.

“Mr. Postman, has a letter come for Ken?”

Ken would invariably ask this.

“There’s none come for you.”

“Geez, so many—are they all letters for other people?”

“Yep, they’re all others’ mail.”

The postman answered in imitation of Ken’s voice, pulled out the letters and postcards from the box, aligned them on his palm and put them into the black bag, stamped the ledger with the seal—which hung inside the box tied with a thin string—and snapped the lid shut.

“Goodbye, Ken.”

The postman got on his bicycle and rode away.
As the black-clad figure growing smaller in the distance disappeared into the shadows of the thicket at the village outskirts, Ken spun sharply to the left.
He shifted his feet in small steps, on tiptoe with his heels raised, across the space between the road and the open gate.
The straw sandals with red paper woven into their freshly replaced thongs this morning delighted him.

“Those who will play tag, come here!”

“Those who will play tag, come here!”

In the Kōjin-sama forest out back came children’s voices calling companions together.
Taro and Hideko—who had been unusually playing at home—thrust their feet into matching straw sandals and dashed from the earthen floor out the back door.
Ken hurriedly chased after them.
Though his plump face was larger than Taro’s by a year’s age difference, his height barely reached that of Hideko’s—a year younger.
When he ran while shaking his large head, he wobbled unsteadily and always lost even to Hideko.
Ken slowly climbed Kōjin-sama’s stone steps.
There stood the shrine of Kōjin-sama beneath spreading branches that covered the sky—branches of three *Bubinga* trees said to have been brought back from Korea by villagers conscripted as laborers during Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s Korean campaigns and planted here.
The three parent trees were each so massive that Ken and four others linking hands could barely encircle them.

In the vacant lot before the shrine, five or six children were playing rock-paper-scissors.
It was tag.
Since it was his first time, Ken joined the game without having to play rock-paper-scissors, but he immediately became "it."
It was so fun he chased them around laughing breathlessly.
Whenever he tried to catch them, they nimbly slipped away.
Just when he thought he'd finally caught someone this time, they turned the tables on him, and he was "it" once more.
He chased them around—weaving through pine roots and large and small Bubinga trees, circling round and round stone torii and lanterns.
With his round, plump body and an unusually large head perched atop it, he ran while shaking his head.
There was no one slower-footed than Ken.
No matter how much time passed, Ken could never be anything other than "it."
His chest began to pound.
He grimaced, came to a stop, and huffed breaths through his shoulders.
When it stopped, everyone else stopped too.

“Roast the beans before it comes and chew ’em all up!”

“Roast the beans before it comes and chew ’em all up!”

Everyone crowded close to Ken, each surrounding “it” however they pleased as they squatted down and independently stirred up the ground to roast beans. When “it” prepared to strike, they sprang up with a “Whoa!” and scattered. Ken chased after them with a serious expression. He turned bright red and ran stumbling and tumbling. The navy woolen pants slipped down and tangled around his legs. Finally, with a face on the verge of tears, he pressed his chest against the Bubinga tree and leaned into it.

“Roast the beans before it comes and chew ’em all up!”

Ken didn’t even glance toward them anymore. He plucked and discarded at random—the bluish-black leaves clinging to the Bubinga’s small branches, the pale red new buds spindling like bean sprouts from patches of black rough bark. Small glossy leaves resembling camellias fell beneath his feet, accumulating. Eventually, Ken began trudging toward the torii.

“Ken, you giving up already, huh?”

“Ken, you’re supposed to be it! Come here!”

They called out in unison.
Even so, Ken finally turned his back on them and started descending Kōjin-sama’s stone steps.
He hitched up his sagging pants to his chest and carefully took each step down.

“Being ‘it’ sucks!”

“Radish-leaf crybaby!”

The jeering voices chased after him.
He went down the steps, crossed a narrow path, and reached the house’s vacant lot.
Under the large persimmon tree by the right storehouse, Grandmother was preparing pig feed.
Ken walked over and silently squatted beside her.

“Teasing those radish leaves!”

The teasing voices still reached him.
Without pausing her greens-chopping hands, Grandmother smiled at Ken who had returned alone.

“Ken, what’s wrong?”

He furrowed his brows, pushed up his upper lip, and kept his mouth firmly closed.

“Hey, go play at Kōjin-sama’s.”
“They’re being too rough, and Taro’s being a handful too.”

Grandmother turned toward Kōjin-sama.

"But everyone keeps teasing about the radish leaves and saying stuff."

“Oh dear, that does sound troubling.”
“Were they teasing you about the radish leaves, then?”

Laughing, Grandmother finished chopping the greens, propped the large board against the persimmon tree, and headed toward the washing area.
She brought buckets containing rice washing water and leftovers, transferred them into the pig buckets, and mixed in soybean broth obtained from the soy sauce factory.
Ken followed Grandmother around, standing whenever she stood and squatting whenever she squatted.

“Grandma, should Ken go to the pig house too?”

“Well now, if they were teasin’ ya ’bout the radish leaves, ain’t nothin’ to be done.”
“Let’s go to the pig house then, shall we?”

“Let’s go without telling everyone.”

Ken was so happy that he lowered his voice.
Grandmother squatted down, placed the carrying pole across the pig buckets on her shoulder, grabbed hold of the persimmon tree with her right hand, and with a “Heave-ho,” stood up.
The two pig buckets slopped noisily front and back, their contents spilling out bit by bit.

The pig house stood halfway up the hill behind the terraced fields.
Passing by Kōjin-sama and looking upward revealed a thatched hut facing their direction.
Up the gentle slope wedged between fields Grandmother went, huffing and puffing under a pig bucket large enough to encircle Ken's neck.
Ken followed behind her, huffing and puffing in turn.
The path kept only its center trodden bare, where withered lawn grass gave way to green mugwort and yomena shoots sprouting through weeds.
When the slope steepened, Grandmother turned sideways like a crab to adjust her footing.
"Heave-ho, heave-ho!" she chanted as she pressed onward.

“Grandma, are the pig buckets heavy heavy?”

“Heavy, heavy,” she chanted.

Grandmother’s reply was a work chant.

“On the way back, will they be nice and light?”

“Light, light,” she chanted.

“Then on the way back, hold Ken’s hands for me, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” she chanted.

On Grandmother’s nose and on Ken’s nose too, beads of sweat had formed.
The considerably slanting sun cast the long, slanting shadows of Grandmother and Ken carrying pig buckets upon the ground, and those shadow figures too moved along, huffing and puffing.

“Grandma, the shadows are funny, so funny!”

Each time there were stone walls or bends in the path, the shadow figures crouched and stretched.
Though called Grandmother, she still had no white hair and maintained a large frame with sturdy posture; clinging to her, Ken looked as small as an infant.
Quite worn out, Ken placed both hands on his knees, bent his waist, and shifted his legs into a wide stride with all his might.

From up the slope came a man shouldering a hoe.

“Well now, that’s the grandson over there, huh? Takes right after your father, he does.”

The man put one foot into the field to make way for Grandmother while peering into Ken’s face instead of offering a proper greeting before moving on.

“Grandma, who’s that?”

“That one? Well now—that’s Taro’s old man.”

“Taronron old man? ‘That grandson sure takes after his pa,’ said that fella back there!”

Ken mimicked both the farmer’s dialect and mannerisms perfectly.

“Grandma, what’s a ‘grandson’?”
“When they say ‘grandson,’ that’s you, Ken.”

Grandmother answered without turning around.

“Eh, Ken! Ain’t no ‘grandson’ here—it’s Ken himself, I’m sayin’!”

The wheat stalks had grown quite tall, their ears fully formed, when suddenly a loud burst of laughter erupted from within the field.
Startled, Ken turned toward the sound, and from within the green wheat of a field elevated one step above the path by a stone wall emerged the head of the backdoor granny, her hand towel wrapped around her head.
The backdoor granny, carrying a weeding basket, parted the wheat and approached.
The wild oat stalks clustered thickly around her waist rustled against the wheat with a soft susurration, and the green wheat swayed like waves.
The backdoor granny stood at the edge of the stone wall, waited for Ken and the others to pass by, then dumped her basket full of weeds onto the path.
She discarded the wild oat stalks around her waist, removed the hand towel from her head, and spoke while wiping her forehead.

“Not ‘grandson’—it’s Ken! So Ken’s taggin’ after Granny again today, eh?”

“Hmm, no matter how much time passes, you still don’t play right with your friends, do ya? What’s with you taggin’ after Granny like this all the time?”

Grandmother answered in place of Ken, who remained silent.
Backdoor Granny put her hand towel back on her head and disappeared into the wheat.
This time, someone coming up from behind caught up to Ken and walked alongside him.
It was the granny from the citrus grove next to the pig house.
She carried an empty woven basket on her back.

“You’re working hard, I see.”

Having greeted Grandmother’s back, the granny lightly pressed Ken’s head.
“Ken, where’s your father?”
“He’s in Tokyo.”

“Hmm, so he’s in Tokyo...”
“What’s he doing in Tokyo?”

“He’s writing letters.”

Ken looked up at the old woman.
She bared her white teeth in a “ha ha!” laugh.

“Wettahs, is he writin’?”
“What’s he sayin’ ’bout them Wettahs?”

“He’s talkin’ ’bout Mr. Ishida Kensama.”

The old woman laughed again.
Then she patted Ken’s head.

“What ’bout your mother?”

Ken suddenly looked at Granny with affectionate eyes and tugged at the noticeably soiled woolen jacket and pants,

“See here, Ken’s mother knitted this.”
“The undershirt, the pants, the clothes—Mother knitted all of them.”

He explained proudly.
Granny bent at the waist to match his rhythm, touching Ken’s bluish jacket and pulling at his cuffs to inspect them.

“Well now, she’s knitted this real pretty, hasn’t she?
“Ken’s mother’s a right clever one, isn’t she.”

Though Grandmother fretted and urged, “Go on ahead now,” Granny answered, “Ain’t no rush,” and took Ken’s hand.
Ken was happy.

“Um, Mother went to the hospital with Katsuko now.”
“At a hospital way far away.”
“Once they put eye drops in Katsuko’s eyes, she’ll come back.”
“Ken’s been waitin’ without cryin’, so she’ll even bring back bananas.”
“Bananas are tasty.”
“So tasty, so tasty they are!”
“She’ll buy toys and even fancy things and come right back, they are.”

Spreading his hands wide and bending his fingers to count souvenirs, Ken suddenly launched into speech—and Granny, swept up in his enthusiasm, broke into a smile.

“When they bring back fancy things, will you give some to Granny too?”

“Mm-hmm, I’ll give you.”
“Bananas I’ll give you.”
“So tasty they are.”

Ken swallowed his saliva, let out a "Hee," spread his lower lip, and smiled with a sweetly spoiled expression.

Granny spoke to Grandmother.

"What do you think, Auntie? Do you suppose the little one's eyes will get better and she'll come back?"

"Who knows what they're doing..."

Grandmother slowly came to a stop, took a breath, and shifted the carrying pole to her other shoulder.

“They say they’re pokin’ round in the eyes of a newborn or such a young child with surgeries and whatnot—can such doin’s really bring any good?”
“Mostways, young folks these days got strong wills, I tell ya—if once don’t show results, they say they’ll redo it twice or thrice over.”
“Truly frightenin’—them stickin’ needles in that child’s eyeballs. I keep thinkin’ they’ll ruin her eyes proper, but what’s to do when it’s what some doctor famous across Japan says.”
“Since olden times they’ve said cataracts can’t be cured, yet this talk of somehow mendin’ ’em feels like barefaced lies—makes me fret we’re bein’ bamboozled by them city doctors, it does.”

“Really now, to think they’re sayin’ even a newborn’s got cataracts—how pitiful. The young missus must be strugglin’ somethin’ fierce, and what a fortune it must be costin’.”

“Well now, those with money may be fine, but for poor folks like us, it’s downright unbearable.”

“Oh now, what are you saying, Auntie?”

When Granny suddenly laughed, Grandmother’s voice grew even more serious.
And in a voice that pressed down,
“No, truth be told, it’s downright unbearable, I tell ya.”
“Ain’t no business for poor folk—should’ve put some faith in the gods instead.”
“First off, she ain’t got a lick of devotion in her—no helpin’ that.”
“Even though they say faith don’t cost a penny, all she does is harp on doctors this, doctors that.”
“If they’re sayin’ the eyeball’s too big—well, ’tis a world nowadays where even blindness gets cured if you throw enough coin at it. So she’s gone and vowed to borrow every last yen for that surgery, all fired up as she is…”

The pungent odor of pyrethrum flowers drifted over.
Granny’s citrus grove drew near, its summer oranges hidden among dark green, thickly grown leaves.
Through the trifoliate orange hedge, here and there pyrethrum flowers bloomed pure white.
Saying “Pardon me,” Granny entered the field.

They came to the pigsty.
Grandmother unloaded her burden at the edge of the field as though she’d been waiting impatiently.
Then she removed the carrying pole from the bucket, stood it upright, and stretched her back by clinging to it with both hands.
Then, with an “Oh dear, oh dear,” she let out a deep sigh.
Ken lined up beside her and did the same, heaving sighs with “Oh dear, oh dear.”
A faint breeze swept through, seeping pleasantly into their sweat-dampened skin.
Both of them had red faces.
Ken swiftly spread both hands, whirled around in a dance, and shouted loudly toward the sky.

Black kite, black kite, dance and soar!

If you split the sky, I’ll buy you treats!

But the black kite didn’t dance, and the sky stretched pale blue.
The pigs noticed and began clamoring.
They jumped onto the pen boards, planted their front legs, poked out grimy faces, and grunted urgently.
Some thundered joyfully around inside the narrow plank shed.
Ken ran to where the piglet at the very end was.
Since the enclosure boards stood taller than Ken’s head, he crouched to peer up from below.
The pigs ignored Ken completely, snorting urgently toward Grandmother.

“Grandma, hurry and feed the pigs already! They’re grunting something fierce.”
“Feed us already! Feed us already! They’re carryin’ on something fierce.”

Ken came to Grandmother’s side, tugged her apron, and looked up at the tall woman.
“There’s no need to rush so—the sun’s still high, I tell ya.”

Still clinging to the carrying pole, Grandmother turned her back to the pigsty and gazed seaward while she maintained her composure.
Below, houses clustered with their black roof tiles arranged in similar fashion.
Parting through those clusters here and there, white plum blossoms and red apricot flowers with spreading branches bloomed.
Cradling this cluster of houses, the cape stretched out to both sides, its shadow sheltering small fishing boats that floated upon a sea as calm as a lake.
The distant Shikoku region was enveloped in a soft haze, the land and sky both appearing blurred.

Ken tugged Grandma’s apron again.
“Grandma, what’re you lookin’ at? Hurry and feed the pigs already!”
“There now, there now—no need to be so rush-rattle.”

Grandmother finally began to move.
She propped the carrying pole against the eaves of the pigsty and brought down each of the pig buckets one by one.
The long, narrow shed was partitioned into four sections, each with a rectangular feed bucket positioned at its entrance to be filled from the outside. Using a soiled ladle, Grandmother scooped feed into each bucket in turn.
The pigs jostled for position, screaming as they frantically devoured their food.
Thrusting their faces into the bucket, they soiled themselves like mud-caked potatoes, utterly absorbed.
For mother pigs that had given birth, they would specially prepare cooked barley rice instead of soy sauce lees or leftover food.
The mother pig was as big as a calf.
No matter how frantically she shook them off, the piglets squealed shrilly through their snouts and latched back onto her udders again and again.
The piglet, its plump translucent-pink body wrapped in silvery down, was uncommonly beautiful compared to its mother—like a living, moving velvet toy.
The mother pig, with five piglets hanging from her udders, was eating the barley rice with relish.
Ken crouched and peered through the gaps between the boards.
The piglet lying on its back and sucking on an udder was unbearably cute.
Ken narrowed his eyes and softened his voice to sound cute.

“Grandma, even though the sleeping pigs don’t have teeth, they still suck milk, huh?”

“That’s right, that’s right.”
“When Ken didn’t have teeth, he used to suck milk too, y’know.”

Without taking his eyes off the pigs, Ken put his finger in his own mouth and touched his teeth as if testing them.
He tried biting his finger with his front teeth.

“Grandma, even when pigs grow big, their teeth won’t come in, right?”

Ken turned to Grandmother and asked, flaring his nostrils as if making a great discovery.

“When they grow big, their teeth will come in.”

Grandmother's answer was simple.
Having finished dividing the food, Grandmother came to Ken’s side, placed one hand on the shed board, and peered over the enclosure from above.
“Grandma, what happens when the sleeping pigs grow big?”

Ken flared his nostrils again and looked up at Grandma’s face from below.

“When they grow big again, they’ll earn us money.—And when Ken grows up big and becomes someone great, he’ll earn us money too.”

“When I grow up big, I’ll be Big Brother and go to school.—Grandma, even when pigs grow big, why don’t they go to school?”

Ken stood up and waited for Grandmother’s answer.

“Well now—pigs goin’ to school or not goin’ to school, what’s it matter either way?—Ken’s father here, when he was small, thought school was mighty grand-like. Went all the way to university, he did. But now? No work to be had, no work at all—can’t earn a penny, I tell ya. Listen here, Ken—don’t you go turnin’ out like your pa now.”
“Pigs now—they don’t go to no school but still earn us money proper-like, I tell ya.”

Grandmother squatted down while peering at the pigs.
Ken placed his hand on Grandmother’s shoulder and nodded with *Mm-hmm, Mm-hmm*.

“Grandma, when dogs grow big too, do they earn money?”

“Nah, dogs ain’t even worth their dung, I tell ya. Chickens at least lay eggs proper-like.”

“Hmm, so dogs are stupid then.—Then cats must earn money, right?”

“Well now—cats don’t earn no money, I tell ya, but they catch mice for us proper-like.”

“So they’re smart then.—Then what about rabbits?”

Ken tucked both elbows under his arms like a rabbit, flicked his wrists forward, then turned sideways to the pigs and faced Grandmother.
The squatting grandmother's face and Ken's standing face were aligned less than a foot apart.
With a serious expression, Ken distinguished between what was admirable and what was foolish.
Grandmother tilted her head pensively and answered after much deliberation.

“Well now—rabbits... Hmm, let me see.”
“Rabbits and...”
“Rabbits... Seems they earn us money too, I hear.”

“So they’re smart then.”
“Then what about turtles?”

“Now it’s turtles?”
“Well... Turtles now—hmm.”
“Turtles ain’t nothin’ but crybabies—just like Ken here’s a crybaby.”

Ken was startled.
He pursed his lips.

“Eegh! Ken ain’t no crybaby—then let’s run and see!”

He spun around and dashed off.
Flailing his stubby round body about, he scampered away briskly.
The eggplant, cucumber, and sorghum seedbeds lay covered with wheat straw—he barreled recklessly over them without a care.
Grandmother panicked as if pigs had broken loose from their pen.
She gave chase but veered around the seedbeds to avoid trampling them, making it impossible to catch him.

“Now hold on there, Ken—hold on now! Ken ain’t no crybaby.”
“Hold on now, just hold on now.”

Grandmother peered at the ground as she hitched up her kimono and chased after him.
Ken ran in high spirits like he was playing demon tag.
He was having so much fun he couldn't hardly stand it.
Grandmother's demon was weaker than Ken.

Roast them beans 'fore the demon comes!

Ken squatted down and stirred the soil, then scampered about everywhere while giggling.
Eventually, he tripped over a seedbed with soil mounded a step higher and finally fell down.
With his face struck hard into the damp soil, he couldn’t get up right away.
Finally, Grandmother came and picked him up.
His face was so covered in dirt that you couldn’t see his eyes or nose.
He spat out the dirt—ptui, ptui.

“Look here now, look here now.”
“If you go runnin’ around like that, it’s dangerous, I tell ya.”
“Don’t cry, don’t cry—open them eyes now.”

Grandmother supported Ken’s head with one arm hooked under him, plucking pyrethrum flowers still in bloom with her other hand to wipe his mouth and nose.
The pungent scent of pyrethrum flowers seeped deep into Ken’s nostrils with piercing intensity.
Ken tried to brush away his dirt-covered hands.

“Stinks! Hate these stinkin’ greens!”
“Ken hates these stinkin’ greens!”

“Oh, I see now, I see now. Just hold on there a moment.”

Grandmother kept walking while holding Ken, then this time plucked some spinach and wiped him with it.

Bwooooom—a steam whistle resounded, abruptly cut off like a severed tail.
The steamship had left the port of Ken’s village.

“Look, look—the steamship’s coming! You can see it now!”

Grandmother patted down Ken’s jacket and brushed off his pants.
Ken too brushed the dirt from his palms with quick pats.
Then, just like Grandmother, he shaded his forehead with his hand and peered out to sea.
From the cape’s tip, the steamship quietly emerged into view.

The setting sun glowed, and the sea shone golden and dazzling.
Over the glittering waves, the ship gradually increased its speed and plowed through the tide, advancing straight west, ever westward.
“Grandma, won’t Mama come back on that ship?”

“Well now, won’t she come back?”
“What in creation’s she doin’ now, I wonder.”

Grandmother began closing up the pigpen, seizing that moment.
Lowering the straw mat that had been rolled up under the low eaves, she enclosed the pen.

“Mooother, hurry back—Ken’s right heere—!”

Toward the gradually shrinking steamship, Ken raised a shrill voice.
Grandmother was startled, and the pigs were alarmed, kicking up the bedding straw with a rustling clamor as they ran around inside the pen.

“Mamaaa, come back quick!”

He bent at the waist, face contorted as if wringing the cry from his gut, and shouted with all his might.
The voice echoed off nearby mountains and returned.
Grandmother finished securing the pen with swift motions, then came to stroke Ken’s head.

“Ken, that steamer’s bound for Takamatsu—Mama ain’t aboard.”
“Had she been riding it, she’d have disembarked by now to fetch you.”
“Right then—let’s be goin’ home now, goin’ home.”

Grandmother made a motion as if to pull Ken’s shoulder and start running off.

The two of them walked hand in hand.

“Let’s get goin’ home now, let’s get goin’ home.”

As Grandmother walked and spoke, Ken followed along,

“Let’s get goin’ home now, let’s get goin’ home.”

Taking up a sing-song rhythm together, they made their way down the path in time.
The empty bucket Grandmother carried swayed gently back and forth.

“Have you finished up already?”

“Hey，we’re back!”

People returning from the fields called out as they overtook the two and gradually made their way home.

Let’s get goin’ home now, let’s get goin’ home.

“Let’s get goin’ home now, let’s get goin’ home.”

Ken and Grandmother too kept singing as they slowly descended the rocky path.

III

The beach gradually came alive with children returning from school.
Ken approached the group but hesitated to join in, watching them with envy.
Ken’s clothes were soiled, and as it grew warmer, one layer of underwear was removed.
Even so, Ken still couldn’t get used to the village, and every day he waited for his mother’s return.

A steamship passed by.
Large steamships on the European route, smaller ones plying coastal waters, and even tinier motorboats bound for the Kansai region came and went, their engines puttering noisily.
For the children, all those ships became warships.
They cheered toward the open sea.
A large warship overtook a small warship.
Steam waves came surging in from offshore, undulating as they advanced.
Small fishing boats were being swayed like tree leaves.
The children raised a war cry and dashed toward the shore.
Crash! The huge waves washed ashore, surged back, and raged like a stormy sea.
The waves grew smaller with each surge, and then the seashore returned to its original state, eerily calm as if nothing had happened.
This time it was a landing party.

The children ran about wildly with sticks in hand, making no distinction between friend and foe.
Ken wandered restlessly as sticks threatened to strike his head.
When he finally dodged one, another seemed destined for someone else's skull—he flinched and blinked rapidly, heart racing.

A mail plane came flying.
As a low hum gradually approached from the east, the children stopped playing and looked up at the sky.
Some threw up both hands in a banzai cheer to welcome it; others shielded their eyes with one hand and gazed intently at its form.

“Look! Look! We saw people ridin’ on it, we did!”

“Ah! There’s the rising sun on its wings!”

“I saw English writing on it too!”

As the mail plane passed directly overhead, each trying to spot something unnoticed by anyone else with their faces turned skyward in rapt attention, they found themselves watching it depart.

“Mister Airplane Man, let me on board!”

He suddenly shouted in a loud voice.
It was Ken.

Everyone burst out laughing, but immediately joining in the mood, all the children stomped their legs in unison.

“Mister Airplane Man, let me on board!”

“One, two, and three! Mister Airplane Man, let me on board!”

The plane gradually grew smaller until it finally vanished from sight.

Before they knew it, the sun was beginning to set.

When they returned home, Taro’s father had also just come back from the soy sauce factory and was still sitting on the veranda edge in his work clothes.
Taro and Hideko were clinging to their father and acting spoiled.
Taro and Hideko’s father was Ken’s father’s older brother, their faces so alike they could have been twins.
Ken dragged his zori sandals in small steps as he approached, looked up at his uncle’s face, and laughed with soft, tentative chuckles.
The uncle stood up, approached Ken, and spread his hands.
There was a smell of the soy sauce factory.

“Come on, come on, Ken. Oh, heavy! So heavy! Can’t hardly lift you up! This’s heavy! Ken here’s heavy as a stone, just what you’d expect from little Katsuko’s big brother.”

The uncle lifted Ken under both arms, making a face of unbearable strain from the heaviness as he gradually raised him up, finally hoisting him overhead and swinging him around. Ken was so happy he couldn’t stand it. He opened his mouth wide and laughed—"Wah ha ha!" From the kitchen came the sound of Grandmother’s answering laugh.

“Check if Taro’s heavy too, Dad!”

“Me too!”

The two on the veranda clung together and leaped at their father.

“Hey, careful, careful!”

While supporting the two at his waist, the uncle quietly lowered Ken onto his sandals.

In the tearoom, Grandmother’s voice rang out.

“Come on now, everyone—it’s dinner time! Taro, Ken, hurry on over here.”

“Yay! Dinner time! Dinner time!”

Taro and Hideko rushed off to the tearoom just as they were.

“First prize goes to Taro!”

“Hideko gets first prize too!”

The two were shouting loudly.
The sound of dishes clattering on the low dining table could be heard.
Ken went around with his uncle to the entrance on the right side of the veranda and entered the dark dirt-floored room.
Taro's mother came out of the kitchen holding a large pot.

“Taro’s mom! Today you made miso soup—it smells real good!”

“Oh, this child and his talk.”

Taro’s mother placed the pot on the kamachi step’s hook in the tearoom, then exchanged glances with the uncle changing clothes on the dirt-floored room’s edge and laughed.

“Honestly, Ken’s got himself some odd ways—what with chickens laughin’ at him and ants up an’ runnin’ without nobody tellin’ ’em to scurry. Boy’s got no end of these little peculiarities.”
“Plain as day, he ain’t cut from the same cloth as Taro an’ them.”

The uncle said exasperatedly as he tied his obi, passed through the kitchen, and went to wash his hands at the sink area.
Ken neatly arranged his zori sandals, crawled up the small veranda edge, dashed through the upper room, and sat down beside Taro,

“Ken, first prize!”
He shouted toward the ceiling.
Taro wouldn’t have it.
He elbowed his way closer and pressed in.

“N-no! Ken’s first prize is wrong! Taro’s first prize!”
“Hey, Ken the slowpoke! Ken’s dead last! Bottom-of-the-barrel Ken! Last-place prize! Stupid idiot!”

“Ken, you were dawdling taking off your zori sandals.”

Ken furrowed his brow apologetically.
Yet the fact that sitting there had made him think he’d win first prize, only to end up with a last-place prize and be called stupid, made him realize it was his own dawdling that caused it—and though he tried desperately to explain himself, even his words turned sluggish and circled back on him.
When that happened, Taro became even more unyielding.
He turned back and started jostling Ken around.

“Hey, Ken the slowpoke! Ken’s always a slowpoke ain’t ya!”
“Stupid Ken! You’re Kenjuro with a K—kickin’ your kooky bucket kickety-kick!”
“I’ll kick ya!”
“Scram, dummy!”
“Go home already, Ken! You ain’t one of us! Get back to yer own house already!”

Ken was about to cry.
He looked around for help, but Grandmother wasn’t standing at the Buddhist altar offering light.
Taro grew even more defiant.

“Hey Ken! Why ain’tcha goin’ home when ya oughta?!”
“Ain’t feedin’ ya supper no more!”

“But Ken—even if ya go back, yer ma ain’t there. What’ll ya do then?”

Ken pressed his knees against Taro’s and strained with all his might.

“Get out already! This here’s Taro’s house! Go home! Go by yerself!”

“Then Ken—who’s gonna sleep with ya?”

Ken's voice gradually began to tremble.

“Go sleep alone! If you sleep alone, a monster’ll come out and gobble you up! Come on, hurry back home already!”

As Taro kept pestering and prodding him, Hideko joined in and circled around behind Ken.

“Go home by yourself already, Ken! We really don’t like you!”

Sandwiched between the two, Ken grew rigid.
Finally, Grandmother emerged from the inner room.
The uncle also came up.

“Hey now, everyone—no fighting.”
“The three of you should get along, shouldn’t you?”

“Now, who’s being the most well-behaved here, hmm?”

The uncle and Grandmother compared the three faces.
They all quietly placed their hands on their knees.
Only Ken let out a deep sigh.
Taro’s mother came up transferring rice into the rice tub.
Hazy steam was rising.
The uncle turned his back to the window and sat down on a high meal tray with drawers.
Around the large chabudai table in front of him, Taro and Ken lined up on the right side, Hideko and Grandmother on the left side, and Mother sat in the spot directly across from Uncle, closest to the kamaboko step.
Between Grandmother and Mother sat the pot and rice tub.

“Now, take them in order from the smallest.”

Grandmother served the rice.

“Now, take them in order from the largest this time.”

Mother ladled out miso soup.
Today unusually had small simmered fish served.
Hideko had Grandmother pick it apart.
Taro had Mother pick it apart.
At home Ken was close with the fisherman uncle next door east and ate fish nearly every day so he picked it apart himself.
Pressing down with left fingers he maneuvered gripped chopsticks to skillfully pick.
Occasionally he would pinch with left hand clamp between chopsticks and put in mouth.
Overhead the ten-candlepower electric light flared on making the room growing dim suddenly brighten.
Looking up at this Ken shoveled rice into mouth then abruptly pricked up ears.
The gate door made closing sound.
Footsteps drew near.
The entrance shoji door slid open someone entered.

“Good evening.”

Ken looked at everyone’s faces while holding his chopsticks.
Everyone looked at Ken’s face and laughed.

“Well now, well now! Some stranger’s come along.”
“Looks like it’s someone Ken here just can’t stand!”

The uncle said with a straight face.
Ken set down his rice bowl with terrifying intensity, his body rigid.

“Ken!”

It was Mother’s voice.
It was the voice Mother used when she smiled.
Ken fidgeted nervously.
Taro’s mother turned around and said, “Come on in.”

“Back today, are you? All alone?”

Grandmother called out toward the dirt-floored entryway.

“Well now, I left Katsuko with a neighbor and rushed back.”
“I thought Ken must’ve been waiting.”

Mother slid open the lattice door of the raised threshold and sat down beside the sill as she spoke, then pressed her hands to the floorboards with a formal “Thank you for watching over things all this time.”
While everyone else looked toward Mother, Ken kept his face turned sideways and his eyes lowered.
Even when he brought over the souvenir hat and sat beside her—even when he shoved the hat right near her face—he stubbornly turned away and stayed silent.
The soldier’s cap with bird feathers matched Taro’s exactly, and Taro was already parading about wearing his while waving grandly.
Hideko too raced around the tatami room pulling her little bird cart behind her.

“Ken, you’ve been so good.”

Mother stroked his head.

“Ken, what’s gotten into ya? You were shoutin’ about seein’ the ship earlier—have ya gone and forgotten your mother?”

Grandmother peered into his face.
Ken seemed to be gritting his teeth and holding his breath, stifled hiccups escaping.
He was holding back something that threatened to make him burst into tears at any moment.
As Grandmother tried to speak again, Mother waved her hand to stop her.
Everyone kept pretending not to notice.

“And how’s Katsuko doing?”

Uncle was the first to ask.

“Well, you see...”

Mother seemed to find it difficult to speak and cut off her words briefly.
Everyone stared at her face.

“—It seems she can see quite a bit now, but the other eye… well, that one didn’t take. …We’ll need another surgery, but I’ve got to return once for the seasonal work—finished the knitting I brought along too—and then there’s discussing the costs…”

Everyone’s faces fell in disappointment, letting out wordless sighs.
Mother lifted her head as if to emphasize it.

“Katsuko’s eyes are still in a manageable state, you see.”
“The doctor said there are people with glaucoma, or those without eyeballs, or even ones who have eyeballs but lack pupils—those cases are beyond help—but compared to that, we should be grateful hers still has a chance of recovery, I think.”
“There’s plenty folks in this world strugglin’ with their eyes, y’know.”

“What about Katsuko’s, then?”

Uncle asked while putting away the chopstick box.

“With Katsuko’s being cataracts, they say if you remove the cloudiness from the crystalline lens she’ll be able to see, but that surgery just isn’t going smoothly at all.”

“Hmm, so if they do another surgery, will she definitely see?”
“And if it still doesn’t take, then after all that money’s just wasted.”

Grandmother asked anxiously.

“Well, they can’t say for certain until they perform the surgery and see, but―”

Mother looked at everyone’s faces in turn.

“To what extent can she actually see?”

The uncle asked tersely.
Mother looked at his face and thought for a while.

“Well, she’s still so small and can’t properly answer questions yet, so we can’t say for sure, but it seems she can see about two meters or so.”
“She’s started dodging things when walking and reaching out to grab toys now.”
“The doctor’s been enthusiastic about it, and even the nurse seems pleased—if the other eye improves enough, she ought to see much better—but that white cloudiness still hasn’t cleared yet. We’ll have to do another surgery without fail though—”

Mother spoke haltingly as she tried to figure out how to explain it in a way they might understand, but no one’s face showed comprehension.

Uncle tilted his head and sharply tapped his pipe.

“It’s a complicated illness—we simple folks can’t make heads or tails of it. I can’t exactly think the doctors are quacks, and you’re no fool either—you’d know that much… But really now—if they go taking out the crystalline lens, can she even see? It’s mighty strange.”

Uncle crossed his arms and sank into thought.
Grandmother turned her knees as if she’d been waiting,

“You’re pourin’ money into somethin’ that ain’t even certain—that’s dead money, y’know.”
“Try havin’ a bit o’ faith instead.”
“There’s been folks healed by faith too—not that Katsuko ain’t pitiful, but that’s just the misfortune she was born with.”
“If she can see even a little like they say now, then even becomin’ a masseuse’d be better’n stayin’ stone blind.”
“Give it up, I say. …Look here now, there was this person from somewhere—they devoted ’emselves to Kobo Daishi, fetched holy water to wash their eyes with, an’ then Kobo Daishi’s figure appeared…”

“Grandma!”

Uncle looked up and cut Grandmother off.

“Right, goin’ on about faith these days ain’t gonna work, y’know. But even if you go to doctors, there’s some that won’t get cured no matter what—you gotta think real careful so you ain’t made a fool of, y’know.”

Mother suddenly began shedding tears in large drops. And she pressed her hands to the floor before everyone.

“Please, just leave Katsuko to me. Even if she never ends up seeing, I can’t resign myself without doing everything possible… I’ll work myself to the bone. Please let us have another surgery.”

Everyone remained silent.
Mother pressed her eyes with her sleeve.

Uncle, who had picked up his pipe, packed it with tobacco but didn’t light it, and had been sitting deep in thought, looked up.

“Well, I’ve got to share even the smallest bit with my brother no matter what—but see, he was the one who kept sayin’ he wanted to go to school no matter how hard things got, ended up bein’ the only one among us siblings to make it all the way to university.”
“He’s already spent more money on that than anything else.”
“Given our social standing, we weren’t in a position to even attend middle school, let alone university.”
“...On top of that, with the soy sauce company goin’ under, we’re in a real tight spot. ...But even if ten became one, splittin’ it half and half—that’s what I see as an older brother’s duty.”
“I’d meant to give him at least one field eventually—or even build a two-room house for him someday.”
“However, I think it’s better to prioritize Katsuko’s situation over that for now.”
“But if that’s how it is… Well, whether we do it later or now, it’s all the same anyway.”
“With that in mind—whether we build the house or put resources into Katsuko’s eyes—I’ll do all I can while I’m at it, y’know.”

Uncle repositioned his pipe and sank into thought again.

“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry.”

Mother bowed her head again and again.
Grandmother edged closer with her shoulders heaving,

“You—ain’t that just dead money?”
“How long d’you think we can keep livin’ in rented houses? You gotta think ’bout the future too—and Katsuko ain’t your only child—”

Mother bowed her head again, repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Eventually, it was decided that there would be one more surgery before the wheat harvest, and Mother once again pressed her hands to the floor and bowed to everyone.
Taro’s mother, who had been clearing the dishes, was also asked to look after Ken and bowed from her seated position.

“Well then, let’s start headin’ back, Ken. Little Katsuko’s waitin’ on us, y’know.”

Before Mother had even finished speaking, Ken—who had by then regained his usual composure—suddenly stood up, dashed through the middle room, and emerged from the storage closet clutching a furoshiki bundle, prompting everyone to burst into laughter.

“Well then, Ken, do come again.”

“Mm.”

“It’s a night road—do take care on your way back.”

They exchanged farewells in a chorus of voices.
Taro in his bird-feather hat turned earnestly to Ken in his bird-feather hat,

“Ken, come play at the beach again sometime.”

“Mm.”

Ken nodded emphatically, then suddenly struck a rigid posture and barked, “Beg your pardon!”—making everyone laugh again.
Outside had already grown dim in the pale gray of dusk.
When they exited the gate, Mother—feeling she might have forgotten something—rested her hand on the closed door and stood thinking for a while. Then, as if changing her mind, she started walking while muttering something under her breath.
Along the seaside road, Ken walked pulling Mother’s hand.

“Mother’s hands are so warm and cozy.”

The voice came from below Mother’s waist.
Mother silently squatted down before Ken, turned her back, and spread her hands behind her.
Ken leapt over and hugged Mother’s neck.
Then he laughed with soft, breathy chuckles.
Near where the faintly lit houses ended, Mother twisted her neck toward Ken on her back and brought her face close.

“Ken, when I put a red dress on Katsuko, she gets so happy… She looks at the dress.”

“Hmm.”

“When I show her some candy, she reaches out little hands to take it.”

“Hmm.”

Lap, lap—the sound of gentle waves washing against the shore could be heard.
Evening dusk gradually enveloped the village.

“Ken, when Katsuko sees Mother’s face, she laughs.”

“Oh.”

“And then, when I say ‘Come here quick, Katsuko,’ she holds out her hands and comes flying over.”

Before long, having left the village far behind, the surroundings fell completely silent, and the sound of Mother’s geta clattered through the darkness.
The choking scent of young leaves filled the air, and here and there in the dark fields, white radish flowers glimmered faintly.

“Now listen Ken—when Mother spilled rice grains, Katsuko found ’em and picked ’em up with her fingers.”
“How sweet that is.”

“Mm.”

“When I bring my hands near her eyes, she gets all scared-like and squeezes ’em shut.”
“How sweet that is.”

“Mm.”

“If I go one more time now, Katsuko’ll start seeing everything better.”

On the dark sea, the bonfires of fishing boats drifting slowly swayed right and left, and the sky they hadn't seen in some time sparkled with stars like an autumn night.

"Oh, what beautiful stars! Look, Ken!"

Mother stopped and jostled Ken on her back.