Pathway to Japanese Literature

Migratory Bird Someday Returns

Street Prostitute Suzushiro (Age 19)

Okami-san (Age 30)

Enka Singer Fukui (Mid-20s)

Enka Singer Matsuda (Age 30)

Yakuza Saito (Mid-20s)

Dr. Takeda (Mid-50s)

Oden Stall Owner (Age 54)

Plainclothes detective (1 person)

Tram employees (2 people)

Drunkard (1 person)

Policewomen (2 people)

Act 1

A desolate backstreet near the Mukojima tram terminus.
Around November, past 11 PM.
The curtain rose in Shin-nai style, and two policewomen entered from stage left and exited to stage right.

Pleasure-seeker Saito (Age twenty-five or twenty-six.
His face bears a scar.
A fair-skinned handsome man.
Western clothes.) Exits stage left, and immediately after, a plainclothes detective emerges from the same side,

Detective: Hey, wait a second!

The detective called out to stop him.
Saito feigned deafness and began moving toward stage right.

Detective: "Hey, wait! You're Saito, aren't you?"

The detective grabbed him from behind.
Saito shook him off, thrust at the detective's vital point, and dashed toward stage right.
The detective regained his footing,

Detective: "You bastard."
"Wait!"

Staggering, he gives chase and enters stage right.

Stage blackout.

Act 2

A backstreet near Toden Minami-Senju Namidabashi.
Around November, past 11 PM.

A willow tree.
A black backdrop covers the entire rear.
Near stage left, an oden stall owner in his mid-fifties has set up his cart.
Two men in uniforms and caps resembling tram employees stand in front of the stall,

Man 1: “Hey, let’s settle up. How much is it for everyone? It’s fine. You. I’ll cover it tonight. But I said it’s fine!”

Oden Stall Owner: “That will be 370 yen.”

Man 2: “No, I can’t let you pay for this. That’s three hundred and seventy yen. Ah, you. Let me pay.” (He produced a 200-yen bill.)

Oden Stall Owner: “Here’s your 30 yen change. Thank you kindly for your continued patronage.”

The two customers entered stage right while still arguing for a while.

Suzushiro, the street prostitute.
Around twenty years old.
A Western-style coat.

She exited stage right holding a handbag, and from behind her came a worker in soiled work clothes, drunk,

Drunkard: “Miss.”
“Hey there, Miss.”

The drunkard called out.
Suzushiro briefly looked back with a feigned expression of ignorance and began heading toward stage left.

“Walking alone's dangerous, y'know.”
“I’ll walk ya home!”

“No.”
“There’s no need.”
“Home is right there.”

“Don’t hold back,” the drunkard slurred. “Let’s go together.” He reached for her hand.

“Suzushiro! What’re you doin’?!” he barked as she recoiled. “You…!”

She shoved him hard. The drunkard staggered and crashed to the ground. Suzushiro turned toward the oden stall’s flickering light and hurried over,

“Uncle! Uncle!”

“How dare you push someone!” shouted the drunkard.
“I ain’t lettin’ this go!”

The oden stall owner barked back: “Quit blockin’ my shop.”
“Knock it off.”

“You bastard,” growled the drunkard.
“This ain’t over!”

He made as if to lunge forward, but at the sight of the oden stall owner,

"You bastard! You bastard!" the drunkard cursed.

He entered stage left while cursing.

“You idiot! You should’ve come two days ago!”

“Uncle.”
“Thank you.”
“Something delicious-looking.”
“Please get me some.”

“Alright.”
“Isn’t tonight earlier than usual?”

“It might be early, Uncle,” Suzushiro said. “I heard they raided the streets at nightfall. On a night like this, there’s no way there’ll be much business anyway. They must’ve decided to call it a night early.”

“It’s awfully quiet around here tonight too,” grumbled the oden stall owner. “Every place looks the same when business is slow.”

"The weather can't make up its mind day after day either."

"You think it'll stay clear for a day, then it starts pouring again," said the oden stall owner. "Ain't tonight earlier than usual? I was thinkin' I'd close up shop soon." He handed her a cup. "Might've gotten lukewarm, I tell ya."

Suzushiro took a sip. "It's lukewarm." She pushed the cup back. "Make it hotter."

She discarded the tea just as Saito emerged from stage left like in Act One, stealthily surveying the area while moving toward stage right. The tossed liquid splashed across his trousers.

“Hey! Watch where you’re splashin’ that!”

“Oh! I'm sorry.”

The two exchanged looks,

“Ain’t that Little Bell?”

“Oh, Sai-san! Well, it’s been ages. Why?”

“Ain’t nothin’,” Saito said.
“You haven’t changed a bit.”
Looking Suzushiro over, he added, “You ain’t changed one bit either, have ya?”

“That’s right,” Suzushiro said. “Me loitering around a place like this at this hour… It’s embarrassing.”

“That’s my line,” Saito countered. “Made you worry plenty back then, but I just can’t quit this yakuza life. Meeting here tonight—must be fate. Can’t keep drifting around Tokyo. Figured I’d strap on straw sandals and head somewhere far.” He rubbed his stubbled chin. “They tailed me again earlier—almost got nabbed. Later.”

“Brother. Be careful.”

“You take care of yourself too. You’re not exactly the picture of health.”

Suzushiro: “Yeah.”
“Thank you.”
(Pausing intently in thought—)
(Stopping the man as he began to leave—) “Brother.”
“Wait a moment.”

Saito: “What.”
“You need something?”

Suzushiro: “Brother.”
“Put on my coat.”
“Since there was a raid on our side tonight too, and the streets seem restless, you’d better be careful.”
“I’ll lend you this coat—make yourself unrecognizable.”
“That’s better.”

Suzushiro took off her green coat and put it on the man, placing a hood over his head.

Saito: "But you—"
"You'll be in trouble."
"Without a coat—"

Suzushiro: "It's not that cold yet."
"You don't need to worry about that."

Saito: "Sorry 'bout this."
"Then I'll borrow it and go."

“Brother.”
“The disguise is perfect now.”
“Then you’ll be all right.”

Saito: “See ya.”

“Be careful.”

She watched the man’s retreating back.

From stage left emerged two enka singers (Fukui and Matsuda), playing accordion and guitar while singing "Yunomachi Elegy" or some such song.

Fukui: ♪ The Izu mountains under a pale moon

Steam stifled by lamplight

Ah, the first love of—

♪ Searching for you again tonight

Guitar-plucking migratory bird

They stopped by the front of the oden stall,

Fukui: “Uncle.
Good evening.”

Oden Stall Owner: “Evening.”
“You folks are here pretty early tonight.”

Matsuda: “Sometimes even I feel like slacking off.”
“Pour me a drink, will ya?”
“Well, if it isn’t Suzushiro-san!”
“Ever since the other day, I’d been meaning to thank you when we met.”

Suzushiro: “Oh, what’s this thanks for?”

Fukui: “That night.”
“It’s thanks for lending us your umbrella that night.”
“Our line of work’s a nightly nuisance on this street.”
“Get caught in the rain and we’re done for.”
“Go on—ask for something good.”

Suzushiro: “Yes.”
“Thank you.”
“But I’m already full.”

Matsuda: “Don’t hold back.”
“If you don’t want to eat, how about a drink?”

Suzushiro: “I can’t drink alcohol.”
“Then I’ll just help myself.”
(Reaching into the pot) “I actually wanted to see you too.”
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you both ever since we met.”

Fukui: “What is it?”

Suzushiro: “I’ve been wanting to try joining you brothers’ group.”
“I wonder if even someone like me could manage it.”

Fukui: “What did you take me for?”
“Are you saying you want to join our group and become a member?”

“Yes,” said Suzushiro. “As long as I keep at this trade, I can scrape by money-wise. But I’m worried about my health. It’s not work you can keep doing forever. Then again, becoming a café girl or dancer would need proper outfits, wouldn’t it? That’s why I thought—if talking it over with you brothers could let me get by through singing—I’d like to try.”

Fukui nodded. “Makes sense. That’s a solid plan. We started out feeling like beggars too, y’know. Turns out it brings in more coin than you’d expect. Gets downright fun sometimes.” He elbowed Matsuda. “With Suzushiro-san joining us, our act’ll shine brighter than two lugs alone. Right, Matsu-chan?”

Matsuda: “You bet.”
“With a woman in the group, there’ll never be any shortage of business, no matter the night.”

Fukui: “Alright then.”
“Suzushiro-san.”
“Try singing a piece here for us.”
“Can’t judge whether it’s good or bad till we hear you try.”

Matsuda: “What’ll you do?”
“Your absolute favorite song, Suzu-chan.”
“What’s your best number?”

Suzushiro: “Well now, this feels awkward...”
“Me.”
“‘Nightly Sighs.’”
“That’s the one.”

“You got it!” Matsuda said. “Nightly Sighs.” “Here we go.”

Suzushiro: ♪ This rouge I paint—for whose sake?

A wandering bird through town's tavern lights

Though I've become this sort of woman—
Heave-ho!

♪ Why must our paths ever cross?

Forgive me, oh forgive me.

You are this transient world.

Fukui: “Good voice.”
“No complaints.”

Matsuda: “Let’s head out while keeping the flow going.”

Suzushiro: “Oh! Starting tonight already?”

Matsuda: “Strike while the iron’s hot.”

The trio continued singing the next verse in chorus as they entered stage left.

Trio: ♪ In the loneliness of being scattered apart...

♪ The path of love once wandered...

Oden stall owner: “Hey! You forgot something!”
“It’s the check.”

He chased after them and entered stage left with a clatter.

The stage blacks out.

Act Three

Sumida Ward, Arakawa Town area.
A room in the filthy apartment where the enka singers live.
Flat stage.
Front-facing sliding glass windows.
Charcoal bales, washbasins and such are placed.
Stage right: A closet with torn sliding doors.
Stage left entrance door.
The outer corridor.
Stage right lies Suzushiro's single chemise, covered with a blanket and sleeping atop the bedding.
Matsuda sits by the window playing the accordion while Fukui cooks something over the stage-left brazier, both practicing their song.
An April afternoon.
Suzushiro wakes up and listens for a while to the two men’s song.

“Brother.”
“What time is it now?”

Matsuda: “Fuku-chan.”
“What time d’you reckon?”
“Must be near three already.”

Fukui (looking at his wristwatch): “Three-thirty.”
“Suzu-chan.”
“The red beans are ready now.”
“There was a sugar ration.”

Suzushiro: “Oh, right.”
(Sitting up with a clatter) “I’m going to the bathhouse.”

Fukui: “You’re still feeling chilled through, aren’t you.”
“You’d better skip the bath.”
“Tough it out another day or two.”

Matsuda: “Not just the bath.”
“You should rest till business fully picks back up.”

“No.”
“I want to go out today no matter what.”
“I can’t just lie here all by myself.”
“I’ve had my fill of last night.”

“Were you really that lonely?” Fukui asked. “Then we’ll both keep you company tonight instead of working.”

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” Suzushiro replied. “I’ll know for sure once I try going to the bathhouse. If I still get chills after warming up in the bath, I’ll stay home like a good girl.”

Fukui: "Okay."
"Then go now."

With a clatter, Suzushiro put on trousers and a woolen shirt and tried to go out.

“You mustn’t get cold. Put on a coat or something.”

“I’m fine. It’s right there.”

“Because I’m worried. I keep telling you to put it on.”

With a clatter, he forced it on her and kindly adjusted the collar from behind.
Suzushiro held soap and a towel and awkwardly entered.

Fukui: “The more a woman acts spoiled, the cuter she gets, I tell you.”
(After a thoughtful pause) “But Matsuda, what do you think?”

Matsuda: “What?”

Fukui: “About her.
“It’s her health.
“She doesn’t seem like a woman cut out for nighttime work.
“She became part of our group around last November, didn’t she.”

“Right,” said Matsuda.
“Time flies.”
“It’s already been half a year.”

“She says she sometimes feels chilly,” Fukui continued.
“This makes the third time she’s had to take to bed.”
“Though at a glance, she doesn’t look pale or particularly weak.”

Matsuda snorted. “Not weak at all—she’s damn skilled, and you’re the one who’s happy about it.”

“Even now she’s still the same,” Fukui persisted.
“I’m the one who ends up doing the work here.”
“What worries me is how she sometimes gets strangely chilly or runs a fever.”

Matsuda: “Why don’t you have a doctor look at her once? There’s Dr. Takei right nearby, isn’t there?”

Fukui: “Right. I’d forgotten about that. Even if you tell her to get examined, she’ll make a fuss and probably won’t go anyway. I’ll go to Nakadori now and try asking if he can come.”

Matsuda: “Go ahead. After all, she’s an important woman to us. Ever since that girl started singing on the streets, we’ve had no nightly worries to speak of, and our income’s practically doubled.”

With a clatter, the apartment manager Okami-san—around thirty years old, with thick makeup, a seductive woman—came out from the back door.

“Tomorrow there’s a seven-day rice ration distribution,” said Okami-san. “Be darlings and stamp this quick.”

“Matsu,” said Fukui. “The stamp should be in that box.”

“Where are you going?” asked Okami-san.

“To fetch the doctor out front,” replied Fukui. “This illness of Suzushiro’s—it doesn’t seem like any ordinary cold. Thought I’d have her examined properly. If I ask him, he’ll come.”

“Dr. Takei?” said Okami-san. “That easygoing doctor? He’ll come right away.”

With a clatter, Fukui shuffled out. Okami-san’s demeanor shifted abruptly, adopting a sultry air.

“Mr. Matsuda,” Okami-san said. “That man probably left to give us privacy when I showed up, don’t you think?”

“I don’t see a problem with that,” Matsuda replied. “No matter how much we try to hide our relationship, we can’t keep it secret from Fukui.”

“That may be so,” she conceded. “But if Mr. Fukui finds out, Ms. Suzushiro will surely know right away.” Her voice lowered conspiratorially. “If by some chance they notice our little rough patches, it’ll become such a hassle.”

“If you’re so worried about your husband,” Matsuda said, “why don’t we end this now?”

“Even if you want to quit,” Okami-san retorted, “I won’t allow it.” She leaned closer. “Mr. Matsuda. You act all high-handed, but could you stay meek night after night watching Mr. Fukui and that girl play house?”

Matsuda’s lips twitched. “What about you? Think you can survive without your young swallow?”

“That’s why I keep dropping by to see your face even during the day, don’t you think? It’s when everyone’s still out.”

Matsuda: “Then let’s go up to the drying area.”

Okami: “The room across - Number 10 - is vacant today.”
“We could take our time there.”

Matsuda: “Right. Then whether it’s nightingales crossing valleys or Daruma somersaults—we can handle anything.”

With a clatter, the two slipped through the back entrance, their movements comically exaggerated. Fukui emerged from the rear depths,

Fukui wondered where they'd gone.
This was careless.
If our business tools were stolen, it would be disastrous.

He entered the room and began tidying up the area.
Suzushiro came out from the back while humming a tune.

Fukui: “How are you feeling?”
“How are you feeling?”
“Nothing’s wrong?”

Suzushiro: “Yes. I’m fine.”
“I seem to have recovered already.”
“I’ve really got to work hard tonight, right, Brother?”
“I’ve been slacking off for three days now.”

Fukui: “Hmm.”
“But don’t push yourself too hard.”
“They say you shouldn’t underestimate a cold, you know.”

Suzushiro: “Being out clears my mind better than staying home.”
“I absolutely must go out tonight.”
“I hate staying home.”

Fukui: “Then let’s go out together.”

“When night falls, I get this urge to go to brightly lit bustling places that I simply can’t resist.”

With a clatter, she took off her woolen shirt and began applying makeup.
Fukui gazed at her retreating figure while,

“Suzushiro.”
“You know that doctor out front – Dr. Takei.”
“Didn’t you realize?”
“Since I was talking with Ms. Okami at the office earlier, I asked her to have him come here too.”
“You ought to let him examine you.”

“Right.”
“But I don’t feel poorly enough to need a doctor.”
“Catching colds is just my habit.”

Fukui: “That Okami-san is quite the meddler, you know. If you don’t let her take care of you her way, she’ll make a real fuss. Just let him examine you without any fuss.”

Suzushiro: “Then I’ll have him take a look.”

With a clatter, she continued applying her makeup. A middle-aged doctor, Takei, emerged from the back holding a leather bag.

Takei: “Mr.Fukui. Is it here?”

Fukui: “You must be busy. Thank you for coming.”

Dr.Takei: “You must take this cold seriously. There are cases where even after a month passes, they don’t recover. Are you the patient?”

“Yes.”

“Do you get coughing fits after lying down?”

“Yes,” Suzushiro replied.
“Sometimes it happens.”
“But it’s nothing serious.”

Dr.Takei nodded. “Then let me examine you properly.”
After taking her pulse, he instructed: “Remove your clothes.”
“Are you cold?”

The clatter of fabric followed as he made her take off the chemise. Pressing his stethoscope against her chest and back, he realized this was no ordinary illness.

“When did you marry?” he asked abruptly.

Suzushiro hesitated. “Well... just recently...”

“So you’re newlyweds then.”

“It’s only been half a year.”

“I see.
There’s nothing particularly wrong anywhere,
but you’re suffering from severe overall exhaustion.
In any case, keep your body comfortable and don’t overexert yourself.”

“Haa... Is she that exhausted?”

“Since today was the first examination,
let’s observe things a while longer.
I’ll prepare the medicine right away.
Please come collect it anytime.”

“Yes,” said Fukui. “I’ll come by later to pick it up.”

With a clatter, he saw the doctor out while heading into the back together. Suzushiro made preparations to go out.

Matsuda emerged from the depths of the back area while buttoning his shirt.

“I’m completely exhausted,” Matsuda said.
“Had a terrible time.”
(Clinking the teapot lid) “Already getting ready to go out?”

“Hey.”
“Brother Matsuda.”
“I want to wander through Yoshiwara tonight.”
“It was this New Year’s, wasn’t it?”
“I haven’t gone even once since then.”

“That’s right, wasn’t it?” Matsuda said. “Before the war, Yoshiwara used to be bustling. It seemed eager to show off. When March came, Nakano Town would be in full cherry blossom bloom. After that came Japanese irises, and when autumn arrived, chrysanthemums. Both sides were lined with teahouse second floors. Geisha going up and down. The strains of shinnai flowing through here, see? Voice impersonators would come.”

*Boom.*
“Hey there, dear customers upstairs!
Harimaya.
Takashimaya.”

His voice shifted to a melodic recitation:
“Last night at the inn too, sleep wouldn’t come...
...viewing chrysanthemums while brushing through the village dew.
You come hoping to see her drenched through, only to meet with frost where warmth should bloom.”

“Oh,” Suzushiro said. “Mikame Matsu’s gone barefoot.”

“Oiran,” Matsuda called out in character, then added with theatrical disdain, “Now that’s downright heartless.”

A clatter sounded as Fukui emerged from the back room, his face creased with worry.

“Brother,” Suzushiro urged. “Hurry up and get ready. Let’s go see Yoshiwara today.”

Fukui hesitated. “Yoshiwara might be nice for a change.” His voice lowered. “But... Suzushiro. There’s something I need to talk about. Won’t you listen to what I’m saying?”

“What kind of talk?”

Fukui: “It’s about your illness.”
“Well, sit down.”
“You shouldn’t worry about it.”
“It’s about what that doctor said.”
“They say with your illness, you shouldn’t stay in this cramped place with bad air.”
“Even if it’s just a month or two, go stay somewhere quiet with good air for a while.”
“They say you’ll recover faster that way.”

Suzushiro (lost in thought): “Oh, I see.”
“Brother, I already understand perfectly well what the doctor said.”
“If I stay like this, they say I’ll gradually get worse and become unable to get up, right?”
“I can’t afford to become a burden on everyone.”
“Then I’ll go to my aunt’s house in Kisarazu out in the country.”
*(Sniffle.)*

“Suzushiro,” said Fukui. “Don’t take it wrong.”

“Brother,” she replied. “Don’t forget me.”

“What’re you saying?” His voice tightened. “This ain’t some final goodbye. If I could come with you... I’d want to.”

“Brother.” Her fingers brushed the frayed tatami edge. “I know what’s happening in my body—no doctor needed to spell it out.” A cough rattled deep as windchimes in winter. “Just tonight—let’s sing till dawn breaks. Walk every alley like it’s our first.”

“Sure thing. Tonight we’ll wander and sing to your heart’s content.”

“I’m so happy.”
“Brother.”

Matsuda: “Get well soon! Come back quick!”
“I’ll come fetch you myself.”

“Come on, let’s head out.”

With a clatter, Fukui and Matsuda quietly sobbed tears and took up their instruments.

The stage blacked out.

Act Four

A room in the same apartment.

About a month later, on a certain afternoon.
Fukui folded the bedding and hung a blanket out the window.
Matsuda tried to button his shirt, his body unable to thread the needle.

Matsuda: “If Little Bell were here, it’d be no trouble at all, but a bunch of men just can’t manage.”
“Ouch.”

He licked the finger he pricked with the needle.

Fukui wondered what she was doing now.
That illness of hers...
It wasn't an illness that would heal quickly after all.

He took the photo of a woman placed on the tea cabinet and gazed at it while singing softly.
Okami-san emerged from below,

“Mr. Fukui.”
“I came to collect the room rent and electricity fee.”
“The electricity fee’s doubled starting this month.”

Fukui: “Is that right? If we’ve got anything at all, any amount’ll do. This month’s foul weather’s got us scraping the barrel. I’ll hand over half now – could you wait a spell for the rest?”

Matsuda: “Ain’t just the weather. Since she left, our nightly take hasn’t even reached half what it used to be. Having a woman around versus not – makes all the difference in the world.”

Okami-san: “It’s been about a month now, hasn’t it? Still not better?”

Fukui: “There’s been no word from her, so I’m worried.”

Okami-san: “Is that so? I’ll just take the electricity fee for today.”

Fukui: “That would help me out. How much?”

Okami-san: “One light: 120 yen.”

She took the money from Fukui, cast a furtive glance at Matsuda, and moved toward stage left.

Fukui: “I’m done with street performing.”

Matsuda: “Me too.”
“It’s just so damn boring I can’t stand it.”
“Ain’t there some better line of work out there?”

Fukui: “Yeah, that’s right.”
“Even shoe-shining gives me the creeps. Maybe I’ll rent a rickshaw or tout for panpan girls.”
(Rustling through pockets) “You got any cigarettes?”

Matsuda: “Not a single one.”
“Might as well dig through the brazier for butts.”

With a clatter, he threw away an empty cigarette box.

From stage left entered Saito from Act One (in inconspicuous clothing), carrying a Boston bag,

Saito: “Pardon the intrusion.”
“Where might room eight be?”

Matsuda: “Room eight is here.”
“Is there something you need?”

“I’m an acquaintance of Suzushiro’s,” said Saito. “I haven’t seen her in ages. I asked around everywhere before finally finding you here.”

“Is that so,” replied Fukui. “Thank you for coming all this way, but Suzushiro hasn’t been well—she returned to her home in Kisarazu two months back. I know the address. Should I tell you?”

“No need if she’s not here,” Saito declined. “Truth is, I borrowed something—this coat. I came to return it.”

Fukui: “That coat.”

Saito: “If you show her that, she’ll understand everything about me.”

Fukui: “I see. What name should I tell her?”

Saito: “Saito the yakuza. That night… I survived thanks to borrowing this coat. This is my thanks. Consider it the rental fee. When she returns, give it to her. I leave it in your hands.”

With a clatter, he entered stage left.

Matsuda: “What’s this all about?”
“I don’t get any of it.”
“How much did he leave?”

Fukui: “A thousand-yen bill.”
“One... two.”
“Three total.”
“Might be some old flame or boyfriend from her past.”
“Either way, it’s entrusted goods – better stash it proper.”

With a patter, the sound of this passing shower.
From stage left came a woman's voice.

“It’s started raining, you know,” she called out.
“The laundry’s gonna get soaked!”

“Yes.”
“Thank you.”

“It’s really coming down now,” Fukui said.

With a clatter, they took in the blanket hung out the window.

“With the rain coming down like this, looks like we’re calling it a day again today.”

Fukui: “It’s awfully dark.”
(With a clatter, he turned on the light.) “Since there’s nothing else to do, let’s have a drink.”
“There should still be some left.”

Matsuda: “It’s okay.”

With a clatter, they poured sake from a one-sho cask into cups and drank.

“Fukui-san!”
“Come quickly!”
“It’s Suzushiro-san.”
“She’s come back!”

With a clatter, someone called from stage left.
Fukui and Matsuda began heading toward stage left.
Okami-san cradled Suzushiro as she supported her,

"Hold on there," said Okami.

"You're drenched," said Fukui.
"Hey."
"It's me."
"You made it back."

Suzushiro: “I’m sorry.”
“I’m alright now.”
“I ran out of breath because I dashed out.”
“Water, please.”

With a clatter, the three of them carried Suzushiro into the room and laid her down.

“You mustn’t let her stay in wet clothes.”
“Take off the wet clothes.”

With a clatter, they removed her wet outer garment and hung up the coat Saito had left behind.
Suzushiro opened her closed eyes,

“Oh, this coat.”

“A man named Saito-san came by earlier,” said Fukui. “He said since he borrowed it from you, he brought it back.”
“He also left three thousand yen as a token of gratitude.”

“Oh,” said Suzushiro.
“So he managed to escape that night after all.”

“He said he owed his life to you,” said Fukui.

With a clatter, Suzushiro shut her eyes again without responding.
They all watched with anxious faces.
She fumbled for Fukui’s hand and gripped it,

“Brother,” she whispered.
“Forgive me.”
“I couldn’t bear the loneliness—that country house felt like a prison.”
“If I must die... I wanted it to be here in Tokyo. So I ran.”

“Just rest now,” Fukui urged.

Matsuda stepped forward. “I’ll fetch the doctor.”

Suzushiro: “I sometimes had dreams. I kept dreaming about the three of us walking and singing. Brother. Let me sing again. That song we sang that first night...”

Fukui: “Yeah. That...”

Matsuda: “Nightly Sighs. That’s the one.”

With a clatter, Suzushiro began singing haltingly at first. Fukui and Matsuda also began singing following her, the three-person chorus. The curtain falls fittingly in silence.

(May 1950 Draft)