ay Weld garveleacelolelcnw autism

—New York Times

 $ 16.00

The River Ki, short and swift and broad like most
Japanese rivers, flows into the sea not far south of
Osaka. On its journey seaward, it passes through
countryside that has long been at the heart of tra-
ditional Japan. And it flows, too, past the mountains,
past the dams, ditches, and rice fields that provide
such a richly textured backdrop to this novel.
Powerful enough to sweep away people on its
banks and placid enough to carry along with its flow
a sumptuous wedding procession, the River Ki
dominates the lives of the people who live in its fer-
tile valley and imparts a vital strength to the three
women—mother, daughter, and granddaughter—
around whom this novel is built. It provides them
with the courage to cope, in their different ways, with
the unprecedented changes that occurred in Japan
between the last years of the nineteenth century and
the middle of the twentieth.
Sawako Ariyoshi, one of Japan’s most success-
ful modern novelists, describes this social and cul-
tural revolution largely though the eyes of Hana,
a woman with the vision and integrity to understand
the inevitability of the death of the traditional order
in Japan. .
Ariyoshi writes with a love of detail bound to
a broader understanding of the importance of the
geographical and biological forces that mold her
characters—and the result is a story that flows with
all the vitality of the River Ki itself.
The River Ki
 se
L — ©
Jison-in \@Kudoyam
yene, :
i. -- 12° +Sonobe
é ers
Kaiso County @Musota .
\
A Mt. Ryamon ‘
@ Wakayama H
RIVER KI Koya-san 5°" “s. >
e ~

Ito County ,

ae ,
¢
* Nara Prefecture
‘ .
7 ~Yoshino prov—

Wakayama Prefecture
—Kii province—

JAPAN SEA

PACIFIC OCEAN
The

River Ki
Translated by Mildred Tahara

KODANSHA INTERNATIONAL
Tokyo - New York - London
Note: All Japanese names in this novel are given in the Japanese
order—surname first, followed by the given name.

Originally published by Chuokoronsha in 1959 as Kinokawa.

Distributed in the United States by Kodansha America, Inc.,

and in the United Kingdom and continental Europe by Kodan-
sha Europe Ltd.

Published by Kodansha International Ltd., 17-14 Otowa |-

chome, Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo 112-8652, and Kodansha America,
Inc. A

Copyright © 1959 by Sawako Ariyoshi. English translation

copyright © 1980 by Kodansha International Ltd. All rights
reserved. Printed in Japan.

First edition, 1980

First paperback edition, 1981
First trade paperback, 2004
ISBN 4—7700-3000-2

10 09 08 07060504 10987654321

www.thejapanpage.com
 Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2021 with funding from
Kahle/Austin Foundation

https://archive.org/details/riverkiO000ariy_c5k3
 GENEALOGICAL CHART OF
THE PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS

THE KIMOTO FAMILY

Kimoto Toyono

Nobutaka = Mio
|
| |
Masataka Hana

THE MATANI FAMILY

Matani Tahei = Yasu

fe T
|
Daughter Daughter Daughter Kosaku = Ume
Kimoto Hana = Keisaku

Eisuke Misono

Seiichirs6=Yaeko
|
Fumio=Harumi Eiji Kazumi
| Utae=Son of
Osaka family

Kazuhiko Shin WHanako Akihiko Daughter of

Kyoto family = Tomokazu

| | |
Gord Yoko Etsuko

|
Daughter Hideo
SPART
|
| ; | Toyono steppeD firmly up the stone steps, leading
|\ ; | her granddaughter by the hand. She would soon be
seventy-six, and her gray hair, long neglected pro-
| | fessionally, had been done up three days earlier by a
—~—-4 hairdresser summoned from Wakayama City. The
sidelocks were fluffed out and the hair swept up in back protruded
a trifle too far for a woman of her age. Thick and lustrous, though
now completely gray, her hair gave more than a hint of its former
dark beauty. Toyono, dressed in a lined kimono with a fine print,
walked hand-in-hand with Hana. The matriarch of the Kimoto
family conducted herself with such dignity that it seemed that the
old woman was helping the young woman up the stone steps.
Toyono had a special air of determination about her on this par-
ticular day, for her granddaughter was to leave the family and
be married.
The morning mist of early spring veiled Kudoyama. Conscious
of her grandmother's strength in her left hand, Hana silently made
her way up the stone steps. Her glistening hair had been combed
up into a high bun and her face was flushed and aglow under the
heavy powder. She was wearing a long-sleeved formal kimono
of purple silk crape, and the decorative tassle hanging from the
wallet tucked into her kimono fold shook and tinkled faintly.
Hana was so tense she could hear the soft, musical sound. Toyono
intended her firm grip on her granddaughter’s hand to communi-
cate to Hana that once she was married, she would no longer be
considered a member of the Kimoto family, and her home for the
past twenty years would no longer be hers. At the same time,
the handclasp showed her regret that they would soon be parting.
The head priest of Jison-in, who had been informed the day
before about their visit, stood waiting in front of the Miroku
Hall. He was not, however, in formal priest’s robes, for Toyono
had specifically stated that the purpose of their visit was not to
hear him intone the sutras. He bowed politely, as was only to be
expected when addressing the matriarch of an important family
in his parish.
 SSR

“This is indeed a most auspicious day. My sincerest congratula-

tions,” said the priest, extending his best wishes.
“Thank you. Forgive us for coming so early,” said Toyono,
graciously greeting the priest.
He informed them that the hall had been left open and that if
they had need of his services they should summon him by clap-
ping their hands. He then walked back to his quarters on the north-
ern side, remembering Toyono’s earlier request that she be left
alone with her granddaughter.
Toyono watched the priest walk away, then slowly turned to
her granddaughter. She looked up at Hana, who was rather tall, and
nodded with satisfaction. Together the two women made their
way to the Miroku Hall, the mausoleum in which the mother of
Saint Kob6 was enshrined.
‘Women aren’t allowed to climb all the way to the top of
Mount Koya, but they may come as far as Jison-in. That’s why
they call this place the “Koya for Women.’ You knew that, didn’t

“Are you familiar with the story of how Saint Kobo appeared
in Kishin’s dream and said: ‘Rather than worship me ten times,
pray nine times to my mother’?”
“Not in detail.”
“Being a woman is no excuse for being ignorant.”
“Yes, I know.”
Toyono quietly préssed her hands together in prayer and
closed her eyes. Hana too pressed her hands together, but some
breast charms on a pillar caught her attention and she forgot to
close her eyes. The charms were made of cotton wrapped up into
balls in pieces of habutaé silk; the center of each was pinched and
tied to represent a nipple. These charms, part of the breast cult
popular among the people in this area, were offered for a safe
delivery by women at the mausoleum dedicated to the mother of
Saint Kobo and to Miroku Bodhisattva. They hung from the top
of the pillar, some life-sized, some tiny, a bare inch in diameter.
 “Ada! CO obe

Two or three were still very white, but the other charms had
been darkened by the elements and by age. Hana had seen such
charms ever since she was a child, but she was especially struck by
them on her wedding day, probably because she knew that she
herself—like her mother when she was pregnant and like Toyono
several decades earlier when she was carrying Hana’s father—
would be offering a similar charm in the near future. Hana, who
had been educated at Wakayama Girls’ School, firmly believed
that the role of women was to bear children in order to preserve
the family line. Because of the early death of her mother, Hana
had been brought up by Toyono. She felt she understood why
her grandmother had wanted to be alone with her at Jison-in on
this particular day. Hana quietly closed her eyes. She was still
a virgin and had no special request at this shrine which protected
expectant mothers; her sole desire at this moment was to be one
in spirit with Toyono who stood at her side.
“The head priest has kindly invited us to go into the Worship
Hall. Shall we go in?”
“Yes, let’s.”
Toyono and Hana entered the hall and seated themselves on the
tatami straw matting in front of the altar. Once again, they pressed
their hands together in prayer. To the right of the altar was a
portrait of Saint Kobo, and to the left, one of his mother.
Legend had it that they were by Saint Kobo himself: one was
a self-portrait which he painted by studying his reflection in
a pond at a time when he had secluded himself on Mount Koya;
the other was a mandala which he had painted upon seeing in a
dream his mother reborn as Miroku Bodhisattva. Like almost
everything else she knew, Hana had learned about the origin of
these paintings from Toyono.
“T have no further advice for you,” said Toyono in a low voice
as she looked back at Hana. “Take good care of yourself.”
“I shall.”
“I won’t be seeing much of you any more, since you'll be going
far away to be married. I don’t have anything special to say to
you, but I wanted you to come with me so that we could be alone
together.”
Ever since this morning, Toyono had begun to address Hana
more elegantly and politely than usual, as though she already
regarded her granddaughter as a member of another family. But
this may have in fact been Toyono’s way of expressing her intense
loneliness at having to part with her beloved granddaughter.
Hana, feeling her grandmother’s eyes on her forehead, remained
silent. Ever since Hana was a little girl, Toyono had done every-
thing in her power to keep her by her side every minute of the
day; her love for her granddaughter was profound. Rumor had it
that the matriarch of the Kimoto family had cared for neither her
ownson Nobutaka nor her grandson Masataka andthat was why she
lavished her affection on her granddaughter. It was her idea to
have Hana, like her brother, spend a few years in Wakayama City
attending college, most unusual at the time for a girl. During those
years, Toyono, though she was not accustomed to city life, had
lived in the city so as to be with Hana. Everyone was sure that
Toyono planned to adopt a husband into the family. Otherwise,
they reasoned, she would not have given her granddaughter the
kind of education which was suited only to a woman scholar.
Besides, Toyono’s own husband had been adopted into the family.
It was obvious that she had her heart set on the best possible man
in the east, for the young Kimoto girl was endowed with beauty,
intelligence, and an irreproachable character. Toyono had in fact
once entertained such thoughts. She still remembered Mio, Hana’s
mother, who had died young; Mio had been so terrified of
Toyono that she had cowered in her presence. Toyono did not
want Hana to undergo that kind of hardship. Hana was an only
daughter; Toyono prayed that, by teaching Hana all that she her-
self had been taught, she would make it possible for Hana to lead
a rich and rewarding life. The famous Kimoto family of Ki pro-
vince had reached its full flowering in Hana, and Toyono had seen
to it that she was brought up wisely and well. Hana had been
thoroughly trained in the art of the tea ceremony and she wrote a
 SOO tes

beautiful hand. She had also received a certificate for her skill
in playing the koto and she had learned under Toyono’s tutelage
to speak with grace and behave elegantly. Having thus mastered
all the arts expected ofadaughter of a distinguished family, there
was nothing left for her to learn. It was not surprising that
numerous marriage offers came pouring in from Kudoyama
Village, Jison-in Village, and other villages near and far.
But Toyono rejected every single proposal. She never said a
word about bringing a husband into the family and setting up a
branch family, but always managed to point out some fault in
the other party which enabled her to decline the offer. Her prin-
cipal dissatisfaction was with the social status of the families of the
applicants. When Hana’s hand was sought for the second son of
the Osawa family, an old family in Jison-in Village, Toyono
opposed the match, saying her younger sister had married into
the same family, making the two young people cousins and
therefore too closely related. Nobutaka, the nominal head of the
Kimoto family, was of a retiring disposition and a dutiful son,
completely under Toyono’s influence. He lacked the courage to
argue with his mother and even refrained from asking if she
really intended to adopt a husband for Hana.

In Kishi, the province of Ki,

Grow many trees;
When you take a wife,
Choose the loveliest blossom—
The Kimoto girl of Kudoyama
Is the loveliest of all.
Children sang this song while playing together. The tune was
an old familiar one and the lyrics had been transmitted from
generation to generation, but the subject was changed from time
to time. It was also sung as a lullaby. When Toyono was young,
there had been a young beauty in Sudanosho. The last lines of the
song in those days went:
 Wwe 1 Wap dee

When you take a wife,

Choose the loveliest blossom—
Sakae-san of Sudanoshd
Is the loveliest of all.

The name of this beauty was Sakae. Toyono, even then willful
and proud, had been intensely jealous of this beauty whom she
had never seen. She herself had been pretty, but not quite as
beautiful as Sakae of Sudanosho.
Hana more than compensated for the chagrin Toyono had
endured in the distant past, and she had the highest hopes for her.
Her affection was so strong that she would have been reluctant to
let Hana go, even if the shogun’s family were to ask for her.
Toyono doted so much on her granddaughter that she could not
decide what to do. In the meantime the children’s song was being
sung throughout Ito County.
In 1897 when Hana was nearly twenty, two proposals came si-
multaneously during a break in the steady stream of marriage
offers. One was from the new Suda family that had formerly
owned Suda-no-shs and was now one of the richest families in
the region. The proposal was made through the Niu family,
related distantly to the Kimotos. Though Sakae-san of Sudano-
sho was famous for her beauty, she had not come from a family
with any social status—in fact, she had been a maid in the Suda
household. Now Hana was being sought after by the whole Suda
clan. :
“Please give your consent, for Hana is almost past the marriage-
able age,” said Nobutaka cautiously. This was the first time he
had ventured to ask his mother about her plans. It was not con-
sidered unusual at this time for a girl to be married at the age of
fourteen or fifteen. As Hana was no longer eighteen, the age
at which girls were considered most eligible, it was natural for
Hana’s father to be deeply concerned. He urged Toyono not to
let her affection for her granddaughter become the cause of Hana’s
future unhappiness.
 Toyono continued to oppose the match.
“I can’t allow Hana to go to the Sudas.”
“Why not?”
“Why not? Think for a moment about the match. The River
Ki flows from east to west. If someone from the Kimoto family
goes to the Suda family, she will have to travel from west to east
against the flow of the river. Brides from families along the Ki
must never travel upstream. I will never allow Hana to marry
into the Suda family.”
“Tf you keep on being so unreasonable, we’re going to find our-
selves in trouble.”
“Tm not being unreasonable! My mother came here from
Yoshino. Your mother came from Yamato. Both women traveled
downriver. To go against nature is a serious crime.”
“Hana will never marry if you keep making objections. What
will become of her? Have you thought at all about her future?”
“Of course I have. I’m going to send her to the Matanis.”
So casually did she inform Nobutaka of her decision that he was
quite taken aback. The Kimotos had received a marriage proposal
from the Matani family of Musota in Isao Village, Kaiso County,
down on the lower reaches of the River Ki. The proposal had been
made through the Kita family of Ryimon.
The Kimoto girl was going to Musota. The rumor had spread
throughout the neighboring villages before many days had slipped
by. Everyone wondered why Hana had to go to Musota, when
people living along the upper reaches of the river were always
considered superior. Isao Village itself was by no means in the same
class as Kudoyama. It was quite true, all the same, that the Matani
family were the most important people in Musota. No one could
complain about the status of the family, especially since the re-
quest for Hana’s hand had come from the main branch. Still,
it was generally felt that the Matanis were definitely not worthy
of the Kimoto daughter.
As head of the Kimoto family, Nobutaka felt that it was his
duty to oppose his mother’s decision.
 “Mother, you're talking nonsense. You can’t discuss turning
down the Sudas and sending Hana to the Matanis in the same
breath.”
“Why not? The Sudas have nothing to do with Hana’s being
married into the Matani family.”
“We must consider the two proposals separately. We have to
turn down the Matanis for the same reason we ve turned down
other proposals.”
“Why must we?”
‘Don’t you think their family status is inferior?”
“Why?”
“Why? Just look at the contrast between Kudoyama and Mu-
sota.””
“Nobutaka-san, you’re talking like an old man.”
It was a custom in the Kimoto family for even the parents to
address their sons respectfully. Toyono thought that her son was
terribly old-fashioned and curtly retorted that Hana was marrying
the Matani son, not the family status.
“You've sent both your son and daughter to be educated in
Wakayama City. I can’t believe that you haven’t heard of Matani
Keisaku. After graduating from the Normal School in Tokyo,
he immediately began helping his father Tahei as the assistant
village headman. Now at twenty-four he’s the headman. You
can search high and low along the River Ki, but you won't find
a more suitable husband for Hana. After all, everything hinges
upon the man who héads the family.”
Nobutaka was so taken aback by his mother’s argument that
he could not utter a word. Since he himself was the headman of
Kudoyama, he had indeed heard of Matani Keisaku, an up-and-
coming young man of boundless energy. But as far as Nobutaka
was concerned, it was far preferable to have the Sudas as relatives
than to have this Keisaku, who was merely the headman of a tiny
village, as his son-in-law. Though usually deferential toward his
mother, Nobutaka this time stubbornly opposed her.
“If it’s unlucky for a bride to travel against the flow of the
river, you can just as well argue that a bride mustn’t cross over
to the opposite side of the river, because its waters are meant to
keep people apart. Remember how tragic it was when the branch
family took a bride from Myo-ji?”
Toyono’s uncle had established a junior branch of the Kimoto
family. Not long after his son’s bride had come from across the
river, the family fortunes began to decline and in time every
member of the family died.
“Tt was wrong in the first place to have the bride come from
My6-ji to Kudoyama. You're familiar with the Brother-Sister
poem in The Collection of the Myriad Leaves, aren’t you? Brother
Mountain is located in Kasedanoshé6 and Sister Mountain on the
opposite bank. In other words, the bride should come from our
side of the River Ki. The junior family met with great misfortune
because they went against tradition. Nothing will go wrong if
the bride crosses from the Sister Mountain shore to the Brother
Mountain shore.”
Toyono was a great debater and she felt that she had to win
every argument even if she failed to make any sense.
Toyono had the habit of bringing the Meiji Restoration of 1868
into every discussion. On this occasion she concluded her argu-
ment by saying:
“The country’s notrun on feudal lines any more. There shouldn’t
be all this fuss and bother just because a girl is about to be married.”
Nobutaka still would not give in. He sent for his daughter and
asked her what her own wishes were. Hana gazed steadily at
her father with her round eyes and replied:
“T would like to marry into the Matani family, because Musota
is closer to Wakayama City than Suda.”
Toyono looked up at the ceiling and laughed when she
heard from Hana’s maid, Toku, how Hana had answered her
father. The years Hana had spent in Wakayama City had not been
without effect. It was obvious to Toyono that Hana had heard
of Matani Keisaku; she was very pleased with her granddaughter.
The womenfolk looked forward eagerly to the marriage once
the proposal made by the Matani family had been formally ac-
cepted. Nevertheless, the Matanis had to wait for nearly two
years after the exchange of engagement presents; the Kimotos
needed that much time to prepare for the wedding. Toyono took
Hana and Toku with her to Kyoto where she ordered various
items for Hana’s dowry and trousseau. It took over a year to pre-
pare the exquisite Kyoto lacquerware—from the first layers to
the finished articles. Toyono gave careful instructions as to the
quality of the lacquer and the nature of the gold lacquer designs
for Hana’s palanquin, koto, mirror stand, and chests. Toyono
also took Hana to meet the masters of the Urasenke School of
tea ceremony and the Korya School of flower arrangement.
Nobutaka was astonished by the remarkable change in his mother,
who had always been extremely conservative in her tastes and
frugal with household expenses; she seemed to have been trans-
formed into a woman of the most flamboyant tastes. Nobutaka
sighed helplessly, convinced of the truth of the old adage that
any family that has three daughters, like the Matanis, faces finan-
cial ruin. To make up for what she herself had never experienced,
Toyono, whose husband had moved into her house, planned a
magnificent wedding procession for her granddaughter.
Because this was her last chance to live together with Hana,
Toyono remained in Kyoto with her granddaughter for over
three months, which the two women spent visiting temples and
gardens. One day when they were viewing the maple leaves in
the Rydan-ji Garden,*Toyono turned to Hana to express her
admiration. She chose this moment to remark in a serious tone:
“Your future husband has had to wait for two years, but he
hasn't complained in the least. I’ve no doubt that he’s an excep-
tional man. You needn’t worry about him.”
Two autumns had slipped by since Toyono decided to send
Hana to the Matanis, and she was trying to convince herself that
she had made the right decision.
“Yes, I know,” said Hana, raising her head. Toyono gazed at
Hana’s lustrous hair, combed up ina high bun. Presently, Toyono
straightened Hana’s kimono collar and whispered, “How en-
chanting you are!” Her eyes were wet with tears. Hana’s eyes
were also brimming and she held her breath lest she give way to
her emotion.
.Toyono remained silent, for she had nothing more to say. Her
life had been intertwined with Hana’s for more than twenty years.
All the same, Hana would now be separated from the Kimotos
and would not share the same grave as her grandmother. At the
thought that she would be free of all family ties and a totally in-
dependent woman, Hana felt all the closer to her grandmother.

The morning mist slowly cleared and the sun began to shine.
“Look! The river is such a lovely shade of green!”
The sparkling expanse of celadon green extended before the
eyes of the women, who had come out of the Miroku Hall to
begin their descent of the stone steps on the east of the temple.
“It’s beautiful!” breathed Hana, expressing her wonder.
“It is beautiful!’ echoed Toyono, clasping tightly Hana’s left
hand.
Hand-in-hand the two women descended the stone steps, where
they were immediately surrounded by the people who had been
waiting for them. The boats were ready to depart. It seemed that
everyone in Kudoyama Village and Jison-in Village had turned
out to see the bride off.
Saki, the hairdresser, rushed up to adjust Hana’s hair. Toku
went to open the door of the palanquin which had been set down
near the landing. That very convenient vehicle, the ricksha, had
recently been introduced to Japan but, in keeping with the
status of the family, a lacquered palanquin was used for the
bride.
“My very best wishes,” said Toyono formally. Hana looked
down wordlessly. She drew her sleeves to her and got into the
palanquin. Toku carefully placed a doll on her mistress’ lap, as it
was the custom in this part of the country for a bride to set out
for her new home carrying an Ichimatsu doll.
 The two palanquin bearers, ordered from Wakayama City,
gave a loud shout as they lifted the palanquin in which Hana
was seated and carried it aboard the boat moored at the landing.
They set the palanquin down in the middle of the boat and sta-
tioned themselves at the stern.
“‘She’s a beauty!” said one of the men.
‘A little doll,” whispered the other. In the meantime the
boatmen were calling out one to another.
“All set?”
“All right!”
The bride’s boat left the shore. The go-betweens sat side by
side like mandarin ducks in the lead boat, which had been loaded
to capacity with presents for relatives and gifts sent in return
for engagement presents. Toku waited on her mistress in the boat
carrying Hana’s palanquin, the second in the procession. Toku was
fifty years old, and her face, heavily made up for the occasion,
was tense. Though Ki province is relatively warm, the air over
the river this early March morning chilled the women’s skin,
even though they were dressed in crested kimonos of silk pongee
with matching sashes.
The third and fourth boats carried Nobutaka, Masataka, the
members of the main and junior families of the Niu clan, who had
earlier proposed a boy from the Suda family, and the relatives
of the Kimoto family. No sooner had the boats left the landing
than the passengers broke out into lively chatter. Sitting in the
last boat, their knees touching, were Saki, the hairdresser, and the
servants.
“It’s all so magnificent, Nobutaka,” someone said. “There
hasn’t been a bridal procession as elegant as this since the Meiji
Restoration.”
“Look!” added another member of the party. “People are
lining both sides of the river. And the dowry in nine large chests
carried along the embankment! No wonder the Kimoto bridal
procession is the talk of the whole region!”
Nobutaka had no reason to feel badly about being teased in this
manner by senior members of the Niu family. He had spent the
whole of the night before drinking and was still slightly inebri-
ated. His face was redder than usual. He smiled and said good-
naturedly:
“There’s no chance anyone will ever forget the Kimotos of
Kudoyama.”
The waters of the Ki were blue and silent, but the river flowed
fast, and the five boats raced along without any need for the
boatmen’s help. The villagers waved from the banks of the river
as the wedding party sped by. It was already common at this
time for a wedding procession to consist of nothing more than a
line of rickshas, so an old-fashioned procession of five boats with
the bride hidden in a palanquin was enough to make people
stare in amazement.
+ Foku;’
Hearing her mistress’s voice, Toku went up to the palanquin.
“Please help me open the door,” said Hana in a low voice.
Toku, embarrassed not to have done this without being asked,
hurriedly opened the door from the outside. She felt she had
failed both Toyono and Hana by not having opened the pal-
anquin door in time for Toyono, still at the landing, to catch
a final glimpse of her granddaughter.
“Ts this all right?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Hana looked out at the budding green leaves on the southern
shore of the river. She felt more comfortable now than she had
before, cooped up inside the palanquin. But even though a small
window was open, the view was obscured by the reed blinds
hanging down. The figure of her grandmother quickly disappeared
from sight. Hana, her mind preoccupied by the separation,
remained tense and was aware only of being borne along on the
water.
The Ichimatsu doll on her lap, which gazed wide-eyed at Hana,
was dressed in the elaborate garments of a fine gentleman: a haori
jacket of habutaé silk, a sash, and white socks. Its glossy skin and
 ee 20:22"

slightly parted red lips gave it the look ofa precocious child. Hana
lifted the doll to straighten the crest on the haori. She noticed it
was the Matani family crest.
A little boy doll in the arms of a bride on her way to her new
home showed the bride understood that, once married, she would
bear children and do everything she could to bring about the
prosperity of the family. Holding the doll to her breast, Hana
wondered what kind of children she would have. Hana recalled
that whenever a marriage proposal had been rejected, Toyono
had said that it was, after all, a woman’s business to bear children.
She had looked meaningfully at her granddaughter—was this to
indicate that they would have to be careful in selecting a husband
who would be the father of the children? Matani Keisaku had
finally been chosen. The two young people had met just once two
years earlier, but Hana placed her trust entirely in the man selected
by her grandmother. Under Toyono’s influence, she had gradual-
ly persuaded herself she was fond of Keisaku. Now she was sure
she was deeply in love with him. Hana clasped to her breast the
Ichimatsu doll, feeling that it symbolized her departure from the
Kimoto family.
On the southern shore, several washerwomen were lowering
into the water their baskets of green bamboo. Calling out to one
another, they pointed at the five boats sweeping majestically
downriver.

“Isn’t that the Kaseda welcoming party?”

“Why, I believe it is!”
Dressed in happi coats, the menservants of the old Kaseda fami-
ly came to greet the wedding party. Recognizing the men, Toku
and the palanquin bearers called out to them. Here the wedding
party would rest and have some refreshments. It was not yet noon.
The main branch of the Kaseda family had opened up their new
riverside residence and had made elaborate preparations to wel-
come the party. Mrs. Kaseda made much of Hana’s beauty and was
impressed by the gorgeous design on her long-sleeved kimono.
 “Did your grandmother select that design of orchid, chry-
santhemums, plum, and bamboo? She has always had exquisite
taste.”
Daintily sipping her tea, Hana asked:
“Is Brother Mountain visible from here?”
Hana explained to Mrs. Kaseda about nearby Brother Moun-
tain.
“You probably mean Mt. Narutaka,” said Mrs. Kaseda.
“No, I don’t. Brother Mountain isn’t as high.”
Mrs. Kaseda listened politely but did not inquire further into
the matter.
Hana, remembering that she was on her wedding journey and
thinking that she should refrain from being too talkative, dropped
the subject. Nonetheless, she could not help thinking that the
lady’s ignorance was lamentable. Though the Kaseda family was
very important, they did not believe in educating the girls in the
family. Hana decided it was better not to explain to Mrs. Kaseda
about the poems in The Collection of the Myriad Leaves and The
Collection ofAncient and Modern Poems which drew upon the legend
of the Brother and Sister mountains. Very much disappointed,
she realized that she had indeed left her grandmother.
They arrived next at Kokawa where they had their noon meal.
Their hosts were the members of the Kojima family. Kokawa
Temple, the third temple on the pilgrimage route through the
western provinces, was located in this village, whose wealth had
diminished greatly with the passage of time. The villagers here
seemed not in the least perturbed by the wedding party. Hana
was able to take a good look at Mt. Ryimon, which soared grace-
fully into the clear southern skies. The mountain, referred to as
the Mt. Fuji of Ki province, wore a thin mantle of snow and its
sides sloped gently downward for a great distance.
“Why, you can see Mt. Ryimon from here!” exclaimed Toku.
“It’s because of the glorious weather we've been having,”
responded Mrs. Kita, the go-between, in a buoyant mood.
But thin wisps of clouds, resembling silk-floss bridal veils,
trailed here and there in the heavens and the chilly air they had
felt earlier that morning had melted into mild springlike weather.
The hours slipped by. At three in the afternoon the wedding
party arrived at Iwade Village, where they had been eagerly
awaited by the Yoshiis. Following the Sino-Japanese war of
1894, the Yoshii family had become wealthy. Honored to have
been asked to provide a resting place for the bridal party, the
entire village had turned out to greet them. It had not occurred
to Hana that Toyono might have had a special reason for singling
out the old, well-established families along the northern bank of
of the river. However, she could not help but notice that, as they
made their way downriver, the families were prosperous even
though the land itself was obviously poorer. She also discovered
that each area had its own peculiar characteristics and wondered
about those of Musota.
As night fell the menservants lit the lanterns with the Kimoto
crest aboard the five boats.
In Musota a huge crowd had turned out along the bank to greet
the bridal party. The lanterns with the Matani quince crest danced
about in the twilight shadows. As the crests of the two families
bobbed about, the menservants burst into song.

On the young pine branches

The pine needles
Grow luxuriantly.
The bridal procession with the nine large chests containing the
dowry wound its way slowly and with many a diversion along the
dark road before entering the grounds of the Matani mansion in
Agenogaito. The Matanis, fully prepared to receive the party,
immediately conducted Hana into a small room, entrusting Toku
and Saki with the task of dressing her in her bridal robes. The
Ichimatsu doll was placed in the alcove in the front room.
Toku breathed a sigh of relief when she finished dressing the
bride in a long white outer robe over a bridal kimono of white
figured silk.
 “T’ve assisted at many a wedding, but the bride has never been
so lovely,” remarked Saki. Toku gazed at her mistress in silent
rapture. Then, radiant with joy, she retorted:
“Why, naturally! She’s the girl all the children have been
singing about.”
The two middle-aged women were enchanted by Hana. Re-
luctant to hide her lovely face, they hesitated to put on the bridal
veil.
The wedding ceremony was held in the inner drawing room.
Mrs. Kita formally united the couple. Matani Tahei and his wife,
Yasu, exchanged nuptial cups with Hana, thereby formalizing
their relationship as her parents-in-law. Keisaku exchanged cups
with Nobutaka. Mrs. Kita, dressed in a blue hood and a pale green
outer robe, exuded an aura of elegance and charm, and Hana,
taking note of this, tried to relax.When she peered from under
her veil at Keisaku, the young man squared his shoulders and
gazed directly into her eyes. Hana felt her whole body grow
warm. The tiny quantity of saké which she had had a while back
seemed to set her heart on fire.
Hana removed her veil. When she returned to the front room
where a banquet had been prepared exclusively for the men, the
guests toasted her with their saké cups. The geishas from the
licensed quarters of Wakayama City fluttered like butterflies
around the individual dining trays of the thirty-eight guests.
The Kimotos had had the ceremonial bowls for the dining trays
made to order by the lacquer craftsmen of Wajima. The exquisite
lacquerware gleamed darkly under the countless lamps which had
been lit, and each quince-crest design in gold lacquer appeared
to be floating upward from the dining tray.
Hana’s relatives sat proudly in a group, calling out congratu-
latory greetings. When Hana left her place for a change of robes,
they whispered among themselves.
“Isn’t she ravishing?”
“Keisaku must be happy he waited for her.”
“She’s quiet for a girl who graduated from the Girls’ School.”
 “After all, she’s a Kimoto, a cut above the others.”
Hana changed into a gorgeous outer robe with a design of pink
winter plum blossoms in the K6rin style woven ona gray ground,
which she wore over a robe of figured silk with gold thread em-
broidery. Forgetting for a moment to see to the guests, the gei-
shas stared in wonder at Hana’s magnificent attire.
“Pour me another drink,” shouted Késaku, Keisaku’s younger
brother. With his back to the guests, he had rushed up to his
brother. The members of the Matani family blanched, terrified
that Kosaku might be too drunk to behave properly. Keisaku,
however, smiled and handed his brother a saké cup into which
the geisha at his side deftly poured some saké.
Covers were placed over the bowls of clear clam soup and the
formal dinner was served to the guests, each one of whom grew
tipsier by the minute. When once again the bride left her place,
the person seated next to Kdsaku whispered:
“Don’t you envy your brother?”
“Why should I?” said Kosaku, growing increasingly pale as
lines of irritation etched his forehead. The guest immediately
regretted having addressed him so carelessly and muttered:
“After all, the bride is a beauty.”
Downing his saké in one gulp, Kosaku thrust out his cup and
called to the geisha to pour him another drink.
“What's so extraordinary about her?” he spluttered, draining
his newly filled cup.
The geishas played ‘congratulatory pieces on the shamisen.
There were many businessmen among the patrons of the licensed
quarters, but not one was present at this banquet. The Wakayama
geishas of the first class appeared to be ill at ease serving wealthy
farmers and landowners.
The bride changed her attire several times in the course of the
evening. Each kimono she wore was darker in color than the
one before, as dark hues were considered auspicious. Finally, she
changed into a black kimono with a design on the hem. It was
then quite late and the banquet hall was in considerable disorder.
When Hana made her final appearance, a young man seated in
front of Keisaku abruptly asked:
“Are you really a graduate of the Girls’ School?”
mY CSius
So clear and direct was the bride’s reply that the young man was
taken aback. Nodding his head drunkenly and brushing aside a
lock of hair from his forehead, he said in an intimidating manner:
“Even an educated woman is no better than a fool. I’ll tell you
this much, your husband is a special person. Take good care of
him or you'll have me to answer to.”
“What a pest!’ laughed Keisaku and silenced the man. He then
grinned sheepishly at Hana, who felt her whole body grow numb.
This was the first time he had looked unguardedly at her. She was
now sure that he was indeed a man in whom she could place her
trust. Flustered, she sat stiffly, trying to appear composed. Hana
studied intently the quince crest on the dinner tray which she had
not even touched and vacantly wondered about the ancient
tradition of family crests. On the lining of the outer robe she had
worn earlier that evening was a white quince crest. Hana recalled
that when it arrived from Kyoto, Toyono had looked it over
carefully and said:
“What an ugly crest!”’
No matter how tiny the crest was, it looked awkward on a
woman’s kimono.
Summoned by the go-between, first the bride and then the
groom stole away from the banquet. An observant member of
the Matani clan noted their departure and shouted:
“Go to it, Keisaku!”
The members of the Kimoto clan frowned. Even if these vulgar
words had not been uttered, the Kimotos already regarded the
Matanis with contempt for their bad manners. Nobutaka and the
other members of the family found the entire evening painful in
the extreme. The nine chests containing the dowry, which had
also made the journey from Kudoyama in lacquered palanquins,
had been duly received in Musota. As Nobutaka had foreseen,
the Sudas and the Matanis were as different as the hills and the
sea. Tahei, the groom’s father, wore his hair up in a topknot;
the corners of his eyes drooped because he had drunk too much.
As far as Nobutaka was concerned, Tahei was just a lowly farm-
er. In general, an owner of mountain land looked down on an
owner of rice land; Nobutaka was no exception. Toyono took
the matter of family status more seriously than anyone else. Had
she been present to see the utter chaos in the banquet hall, she
would certainly have been filled with remorse. Nobutaka per-
sonally felt that Toyono should have come along, since she was
going to pay a formal call on the bride the next day anyway. For
the first time in his life he resented his mother, who always had
things done her way. But it was too late now to complain. At
that very moment Keisaku and Hana were exchanging nuptial
cups in an inner room.
The altar was decorated with Koshti plums and dried cuttlefish.
The go-between, with a look of utter serenity on her face, had
the bride and groom take up the saké cups, treating them like
children.
Excusing herself, the go-between said, “Have a good rest.”
What transpired afterward remained but a fragmented memory
in Hana’s mind. For the first time in her life she had been left alone
with a member of the opposite sex. Her upbringing had been such
that that in itself was a traumatic experience. Toyono had handed
her a wallet into which she had slipped an Utamaro print, re-
ferring to it as a charm. Not having enough presence of mind at
that moment to recall the print, Hana remained rigid as her hus-
band swept her up into his arms. In her pain she pressed her head
against the wooden pillow but took care not to ruin her elaborate
coiffure. The prenuptial instructions she had received had been
very sketchy indeed. Hana did as best as she could to cope.
Keisaku’s experience with women had been far too limited for
him to be sensitive to her response. He was simply a young man
of twenty-six, overcome by the beauty of his bride.
“T’ve had to wait so long!” murmured Keisaku after his passion
had subsided. Having been instructed to obey her husband’s
every wish, Hana could only silently express her feelings of shame.
Closing her eyes in the dark, Hana marveled that her unease had
not taken a noticeable form.

In this part of the country the women paid the bride a formal
visit the morning after the wedding to extend their congratula-
tions. At the wedding reception the night before the men had
stared at her as she sat with her head bowed, unable to distinguish
one guest from another. On this day, however, Hana fixed her
eyes on each woman introduced to her, doing her best to mem-
orize the woman’s face and name. She struck all her visitors as
being extremely intelligent.
Yasu rushed over to Hana after the departure of one of the
guests and said:
“Her family branched off from ours three generations ago. All
branch families take on the name Handa; we're the only family
in Musota with the name Matani. Long ago when this area was
the domain of Negoro Temple, the head of the Matani family
was included among the Negoro One Hundred. The family was
given the name Chofuku-in, which became shortened to Cho-
kui.”
Hana knew all this, but it was another matter to be told of the
history of the family by her mother-in-law. Chokui had an
ancient ring to it; it was difficult for Hana to imagine that it was a
corruption of Chofuku-in. Recalling how her father had made
fun of the Matanis by referring to them as the Musotas, Hana
could not help but be amused.
The women of the branch families of the Kimoto family also
came to call on the bride. Each was wearing a fine-patterned
kimono as though they had all agreed in advance to dress alike.
The ladies were astonished to see Hana sitting serenely next to her
mother-in-law as if she had been a member of the family for
many years.
“Madame will not be attending the banquet,” said the mistress
of the branch family. She had been asked by Toyono, who had
given her advanced age as an excuse for not coming, to extend
her formal greetings. A banquet was customarily held for the
women the day after they paid their respects to the bride. Toyono,
then, was not making an appearance even when only women
would be present.
“Please extend to her my best wishes,” said Hana.
That these cool, polite words were uttered by Toyono’s be-
loved granddaughter startled not only the mistress of the branch
family but Hana’s mother-in-law as well. It would not have been
out of place for Hana, in this instance, to have expressed her sad-
ness or regret.
“I suppose she’s being a dutiful daughter-in-law.”
“She’s very wise.
“Her grandmother brought her up very strictly, you know.”
These observations were made by the ladies at the banquet in
their honor. Under their scrutiny, Hana, attired in an outer robe
with a pine cone design embossed on a green ground, sat sedately.
“Look! She’s wearing a scarlet kimono.”
“What an exquisite creature! She’s a little doll.”
Hana’s outer robe, lined in scarlet figured silk, had a padded
hem two inches thick. The figured silk kimono worn underneath
was of the same shade. Hana’s fair complexion appeared flushed
as she looked down to avoid the attention focused on her. She
emanated all the delicate fragrance of a bride.
“How shrewd Keisaku was to have chosen a bride with a dowry
large enough to fill nine chests and with good looks as well!
The bride, too, is extremely lucky,” commented the women.
It was the custom in this region for newlyweds to visit the
bride’s family on the fifth day following the wedding ceremony.
However, it had been decided that Hana and Keisaku would not
adhere to this practice, since Kudoyama was so far away. This,
of course, had been Toyono’s idea. And yet Toyono, though she
should have been the first person to visit the bride, had not come.
“What could Madame be thinking of?”
 Toku, the only person who had accompanied Hana from the
Kimoto household, was terribly unhappy. Saki, the hairdresser,
had remained five more days to help dress the young bride. Now
it was time for her to leave and Toku was very reluctant to see
her go.
“Must you leave so soon, Saki?”
“Yes, I must. Come and see me when you're in the city.”
“Thank you, I shall. By the way, Saki, don’t you think my mis-
tress is behaving strangely?”
“Why do you ask such a question?”
“Here I am feeling utterly miserable at the thought of your
going away, and yet she hasn’t even mentioned her grandmother
or Kudoyama.
Saki smiled.
“Oh, but isn’t this the best time of her life? Surely you re-
member what it was like to be newly married.”
“Nonetheless, she’s among people who until recently were
complete strangers. I should think she’d feel a little homesick,”
complained Toku, as she saw Saki off as far as the approach to
Musota Bridge. The bridge spanned the lower reaches of the
river near Shinrotsukai Dam. People called it One-Rin Bridge
because a toll was collected. There the waters of the Ki gushed
noisily from the dam, and a sound was produced different from
anywhere else along the course of the river.
Toku heard koto music coming from the greenery surrounding
her mistress’s room when she returned to the mansion. Smiling
smugly at the houseboys and maids of the Matani household
whom she passed in the courtyard, she entered the house. Her mis-
tress was doubtless the only bride in Musota who was an accom-
plished koto player. Toku wanted to shout it to the world that
Hana had received a certificate of achievement from the Yamada
School. Heedless of what people might think of her, she openly
regarded with disdain the other members of the household. This
devoted servant was intensely proud of the Kimotos. If she had
her way, she would have gone about boasting that her mistress
had been sought by far better families. Had Toku listened closely,
she might have deciphered Hana’s true feelings in her music, but,
unfortunately, Toku did not have an ear for music.
Removing the picks from her fingers, Hana felt guilty about
idling the hours away so soon after the wedding. She would never
question the accepted principles governing the behavior of a wife.
It was perfectly clear to her that her foremost duty was to adopt
the customs and ways of the Matanis. But for some reason Hana’s
place in the household was elevated far above that of the other
members.
Keisaku, the headman of Isao Village, had a bright future. Hav-
ing been educated in Tokyo, he was somewhat of an idealist.
Even stubborn old men listened attentively to his advice. He was,
moreover, extremely busy. He was an important landowner,
and he visited the homes of the tenant farmers in his spare time,
getting them to develop an interest in new agricultural methods.
He experimented in his own fields with various methods of cul-
tivating tomatoes and other vegetables newly introduced from the
West. He also showed visitors from other villages around the
greenhouses he had had built behind his mansion. It hardly seemed
possible that one man could do all that he did.
Meanwhile Hana’s duties were very simple. She had to get
herself dressed before her husband awoke in the morning, serve
him his breakfast while he read books and magazines in English,
and see him off. Tahei,dozed all day long in the sun and Yasu did
some sewing or patched some old clothes, whiling away the time
seated quietly on the floor. Tahei entertained those who came to
call. Yasu would occasionally appear to exchange a few pleasant-
ries, and then return immediately to her customary spot. No
special duty was assigned to the bride. Toku did the houseclean-
ing and laundry, and Yasu took charge in the kitchen. There
seemed to be no place for Hana in the Matani househald.
Keisaku, returning home exhausted at the end of the day, was
as kind a husband as Hana could hope for.
“Shall I play the koto for you?” asked Hana one day.
 Her husband had taken a bath and was now reading the news-
paper. Not in the habit of being so entertained, Keisaku stared
blankly at his wife. He rebuked her gently, reminding her of the
lateness of the hour. The beautiful koto, lacquered in gold along
its entire length, was of no use at all in this household.
“It’s like casting pearls before swine,” complained Toku. Even
though Toku did not have any real appreciation for music, she
had been trained by Toyono and was proud of her mistress’s
accomplishments. Considerably disgruntled, Toku expressed her
scorn for the Matanis, for not a single member of the family
appreciated Hana’s playing.

One day Kosaku shouted from the front room:

“What was that you just said?”
“T said a man would never step foot in the kitchen in Kudo-
yama.”
Toku had been terribly offended when Kosaku came into the
kitchen to draw some water. If he had clapped his hands, said
Toku curtly, a servant would have prepared some tea for him.
After all, wasn’t he the second son of the Matani family?
“What nonsense! Remember, we’re not members of the nobil-
ity. No maid in this household would pay any attention if I
clapped my hands.”
“T’m telling you that I would.”
“Tea prepared by you would taste terrible.”
Hana listened silently. Toku was at once giving vent to her
frustration and trying to raise the level of refinement in the house-
hold to that of the Kimotos. Nonetheless, she was being im-
pudent.
“Toku.”
The maid bowed deeply.
“I’m sorry, but please go to Kudoyama for me,” said Hana.
Hana slipped a letter into an envelope, instructing Toku to de-
liver it to Toyono. She also told Toku to take along the necessary
personal effects for a lengthy stay.
 Bewildered, Toku asked:
“Won't you be lonely?”
Hana, growing pale, ordered Toku to prepare her things.
“But I really don’t want to go. Wouldn’t it do just to mail the
letter? Why do I have to deliver it in person?” Toku muttered to
the maids. Her apprehension was not without reason, for when
Toyono finished reading Hana’s elegantly written letter, she
burst into laughter.
Looking Toku directly in the face, Toyono said:
“You've been dismissed.”
“Whatever for? What have I done wrong?”
Toyono could not help smiling as she tried to soothe the
ruffled feelings of this loyal maid.
“Don’t worry, everything will turn out all right. Now you
can rejoin the Kimoto household. It isn’t as though you were a
bride being sent home in disgrace, you know.”
Toyono moved closer to Toku, who had been deeply hurt.
“Tell me, is she expecting?”
“Not yet. She had her period this month.”
Summer had come. A persimmon tree grew in the middle of
the Kimoto garden. Toyono gazed at its luxuriant leaves and
the carpet of green under the tree on this lovely afternoon.
“Oh, I see,” she commented absentmindedly.
Even more than she longed to see her first great-grandchild,
she looked forward to having Hana come to offer breast charms
at Jison-in.
“Don’t sulk so. Now tell me all about the wedding,” said
Toyono.

All went well, with the exception of one unfortunate

blunder. No words can express my heartfelt apology.
I have duly received the returned item.
Yours sincerely
Hana smiled to herself when she read Toyono’s formal letter.
Showing no emotion on her face, she handed the letter to Kei-
saku.
“Weren't you being a little harsh on Toku?”
“But I can easily take over her duties. I’ll never feel that I’m
in Musota if someone like Toku continues to do all the chores.”
Keisaku studied Hana with an expression of surprise on his face,
but he did not say a word. Immediately following the wedding,
he spent each day hard at work. At night he embraced his wife
with a young man’s passion, but never did he discuss his work with
her. This was considered perfectly natural, and Hana did not feel
in any way neglected.
“Tt’s warm tonight, isn’t it?”
“It is indeed. How good it’d be to have a little rain.”
His wife’s words caused Keisaku to look up from his newspaper.
He had recently been very much worried about the crops during
this long period of drought. Nonetheless, he put the paper aside
to discuss an entirely different matter.
“Are you acquainted with the Yoshiis of Iwade?”’
“Yes, lam,” replied Hana. She was too embarrassed to explain
that she had stopped in Iwade on her wedding day.
“They’re thinking about arranging a marriage with the daughter
of the Handa family of Nishidegaito.”
“Do you mean the main Yoshii family?”
“No. They’re only remotely related to the main family. But
they are encouraging a match with the Handa girl.”
“That’s good news!”
Hana suddenly recalled what Toyono had said about a bride
moving against the flow of the river. Aware of her duty as a wife
to be compliant, however, she felt herself unable to mention it
to her husband.
“We'll have to think about a bride for Kdsaku soon.”
“Yes, we will.”
Hana remembered that the branch family of the Osawa clan of
Jison-in Village had a daughter three years younger than she. The
Osawas would feel offended if they had to negotiate directly with
Hana, who had earlier rejected a proposal from the main family.
Nevertheless, if another family were to act as go-between, the
branch family would probably be delighted to consider Kosaku
as a prospective bridegroom.
Hana suggested the possibility to Keisaku, who had someone
sound out the Osawa family. Everything was done at a slow and
leisurely pace in Ki province, and so it was not until the end of
the year that they received a reply. The Osawas were casual about
the proposal. Toyono encouraged the match and everyone was
impressed with Hana. It was suggested that in time the young
Mrs. Matani would become a brilliant matchmaker.
In the presence of his parents Keisaku casually said to Hana:
“Please broach the subject with Kosaku.”
Hana’s mother-in-law, narrowing her eyes over the brazier,
commented:
“What a good idea! It’ll be best to have Hana speak to him.”
Tahei, never one to present an objection, was perfectly satis-
fied with whatever his son decided to do. Hana gave a deep bow
and said she would speak to her brother-in-law.
Hana was embarrassed to see that the Matanis, fully aware of the
difficult relationship between Kosaku and herself, went out of their
way to be tactful. Toku’s impudence may have initially caused
the estrangement, but, whatever the reason, it was obvious that
Kosaku had been treating his sister-in-law very coldly. Further-
more, the members ofthe Matani family had always tried to avoid
a confrontation with Kosaku. Hana did not know why the re-
lationship with Kosaku was so strained. Keisaku, a man of action,
spent every minute of the day dashing from one place to another.
On the other hand, Kosaku, though he was a clerk in the village
office, spent practically every day at home reading, frequently
receiving packages of books from Tokyo. Having been brought
up by Toyono who loved books, Hana had indeed been delighted
to discover a person like Kosaku in the Matani family.
“Kosaku, do you compose waka poetry?”
Hana asked this question one day when she noticed a copy of
 The Collection of Ancient and Modern Poems on the veranda, but
Kosaku ignored her question altogether.
Keisaku also had books sent from Tokyo, but they were highly
specialized books on agriculture and cattle breeding. The schol-
arly tomes on economics and politics on his bookshelves did not
appeal to her in the least. To alleviate her boredom, she longed
to borrow books by such modern poets as Kitamura Shiiya. None-
theless, when she asked to borrow a volume, Kosaku brusquely
replied that he did not like to let his books out of his own hands.
Hana was painfully aware of Kosaku’s hostile feelings toward
her. Her husband’s request that she talk to Kosaku about the
marriage proposal was a difficult one indeed. However, she would
have failed in her duties as a wife had she become the cause of
further disharmony in the family; therefore, Hana, choosing her
words very carefully, spoke to Kosaku about the Osawa girl.
Kosaku listened quietly to all that she had to say.
“Do you mean the branch family of the Osawa clan of Jison-
in Village?’ asked Kosaku, wanting to be sure he understood
correctly which family she was referring to.

“What was his reaction?”

“He has apparently heard about them.”
“He didn’t refuse outright, did he?”
“No, he didn’t.”
Keisaku nodded and asked Hana to write a formal letter to
Toyono to feel things out, for it was imperative that he give an
indication of the family’s interest in the match. Hana was both
relieved and confident that once Kosaku met the girl his attitude
would change. She knew that the girl was attractive and that she
had a pleasing personality.
Toyono’ s reply arrived together with her New Year’ S greeting.
The status of the girl’s family and her character would suit Kosaku
perfectly. How fine it would be to have that part of the province
so intimately tied to Musota! At the end of the letter, she said that
since the bride would be traveling downriver, the match was a
good one. So strong-willed was Toyono that she did not mention
her longing to see Hana or her loneliness since parting with her.
The Handa family and the Yoshii branch family of Iwade ex-
changed engagement presents during the New Year season. Tahei
was also very eager to see Kosaku formally engaged. Nonetheless,
Keisaku stated that there was no need to hurry, even though it
was he who had brought up the subject in the first place. Listening
from the sidelines, Hana began to feel uneasy about the whole
affair.
“Kodsaku wouldn’t be this obstinate if I had divided up the
family property years ago. There’s bound to be hard feelings
when everything is divided up after my death,” said Tahei.
Hana was shocked to realize that when Kosaku married he
would be establishing a branch family. This was the usual fate for
a second son, but Hana, who had only one brother, had never
really had the harsh reality of this practice brought home to her.
“Hana said that we might ask her father to arrange a banquet
at which we could look over the Osawa girl,” said Keisaku on
January 15, while they were having the traditional red bean
gruel for breakfast. Hana had formerly taken her meals three
times a day with Toyono, it being the custom in the Kimoto
household for the women not to eat together with the men in
the family. Here in Musota, Tahei, Yasu, Keisaku, Kosaku, and
Hana had breakfast together. A black lacquered dinner tray was
set in front of each member of the family. Kiyo, who was over
forty years of age, managed to see to everyone’s needs. Keisaku
and Kosaku were the youngest of five children. Kiyo had once
served eight, including the three older girls before they were
married and Tahei’s father, who had lived to a ripe old age. She
was the most efficient of the five maids in the household and
had been unable to get along with Toku during her brief stay.
Kosaku noisily slurped his gruel. Looking steadily at the tray
offered to him by Kiyo, he said:
“No, thank you.”
“What’s up, Kosaku?”
 “Do you mean the engagement meeting?”
“Yes. I'll go through with it as long as I can say no in the end.”
The matchmaker would lose face if the proposal were rejected
at that stage. Furthermore, the young girl would be emotionally
scarred for the rest of her life. The venom in Késaku’s words
stunned Hana.
“You shouldn’t feel that way about the interview,” Keisaku
answered. “No one can say anything unfavorable about Mr.
Osawa and, as Hana pointed out, his daughter is a lovely young
woman.” Keisaku would soon be twenty-seven. A dedicated vil-
lage headman, he had acquired a good reputation; he was respected
for his candidness and not bothered in the least by trivialities. But
Kosaku was a stubborn man.
“The Osawas are members of a branch family, aren’t they?”
ieEhat's right.”
“They wouldn’t be able to afford a grand bridal procession
with nine loads of dowry, palanquins, and boats. The bride will
probably have only five loads of dowry and she’ll come in a rick-
sha pulled along the shore. After all, I'll just be establishing a
branch family.”
Unable to contain his anger, Tahei shouted:
“Kosaku, stop talking nonsense. Can’t you see how your broth-
er feels?”
Hana had never before heard her father-in-law raise his voice.
She put down her chopsticks, feeling that the gruel had formed a
lump inside her.
“How Keisaku feels? He’s a graduate of a university in Tokyo
and village headman. He’s married to a girl from Kudoyama, and
he’ll be the next head of the Matani family. Oh, yes. I understand
perfectly how he feels!”’
“Fool!”
Kosaku rose to his feet to leave the room. Turning back, he said
in a low voice which contrasted sharply with Tahei’s shouting:
“Tt’s fortunate the eldest son isn’t a fool!”
Keisaku gazed sadly at his brother’s retreating figure. Tahei
shook his fist, unable to bear the tension. Yasu, flustered, looked
first at Tahei, then followed Kosaku with her eyes. Hana moaned.
Kiyo ran to the kitchen to fetch a dishcloth.
“T’m sorry.” Hana, holding back the vomit with the sleeve of
her long undergarment, felt herself transfixed by the gaze of her
father-in-law and her husband. Without apologizing further,
she ran to the privy, sensing that she was going to continue
vomiting. The gruel she had helped herself to made its way slug-
gishly up into her mouth.
Hana had never dreamed that the wedding procession, so
painstakingly and lovingly planned by Toyono, had wounded
the pride of the younger son. It was understood from the time
Kosaku was born that he would one day establish a branch family.
He had developed a gloomy personality from childhood because
he knew what the future held for him. In an ordinary household,
a girl accepted fully the superior position of boys. But Hana,
besides receiving the same education as her brother, had been
lavished with all the love Toyono had had to give. She had no
recollection of having ever been treated as an inferior. The impact
of Kosaku’s words on Hana had therefore been great.
Keisaku noticed that Hana continued to look unwell in the days
that followed. One night when they were in their six-mat room
which adjoined the sitting room, he gently asked:
“Are you still troubled by what Kosaku said?”
“I can’t help it. Besides, I don’t know how to apologize to
Father for being sick right there at the breakfast table.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“Kosaku has never liked me. I shouldn’t have meddled.”
“Try not to think about it any more. I intend to give him much
more of the property than he expects. I’ll also put an end to the
practice of having the branch family take on the name Handa
and give him the Chokui title.”
“The Chokui title2”
“Yes. In this part of the country, we’re the only direct de-
scendants of a samurai family. Well, I’m going to turn over the
samurai status to Kosaku and become a commoner.”
Appalled, Hana listened to her husband’s words. It was unheard
of in 1900 for a branch family to take on the samurai title. Having
been brought up in a status-conscious household, Hana found
the idea outrageous and sat up in bed. A whirling sensation in
her breast made her feel nauseous and she pressed her sleeve to
her mouth.
“Is it morning sickness?’ asked Keisaku. Hana looked up in
surprise and blushed as her husband stared at her. She herself
suspected that her illness was none other than morning sickness.
Nonetheless, she lay down in bed without responding.
“It’s warm tonight, isn’t it?”’ whispered Keisaku, throwing aside
the quilt to look at Hana.
The winter had been exceptionally warm in Ki province and
it was difficult to believe that New Year’s Day was fast approach-
ing. The custom of celebrating the old Lunar New Year was
still being followed in the provinces, though the Western calendar
had been officially adopted in 1872. There were only a few fam-
ilies in Musota who, like the Matanis, celebrated New Year’s Day
on the same day it was observed by the elementary school. The
farmers of Isao Village punctually greeted the seasons with the
planting of seeds and the harvesting of different crops. At the
Lunar New Year, which fell in February, Keisaku called upon the
farmers, and the village elders came to extend New Year’s greet-
ings to Tahei and Yasu; before returning home they were given
some refreshments.
“Today is New Year for us old folks,” said Tahei, delighted.
When he opened his mouth to cough, one could see that some of
his teeth were missing.
“We don’t have many years left to celebrate,” he added. In
spite of the warm weather, Tahei had caught a bad cold because
of having celebrated both the Lunar and the Western New Year.
He had aged suddenly upon turning seventy.
The engagement of the Crown Prince was announced in the
papers not long after the New Year. Kujo Michitaka had received
official word that his daughter Sadako had been chosen to be the
Crown Princess. Hana read the article again and again, her heart
brimming with happiness for the imperial family. Now that she
was going to have a child, she viewed the world through rose-
tinted spectacles. The Matanis were extremely solicitous and saw
to it that she received the best of care. Yasu, who had previously
been overwhelmed by the elegant speech and exquisite manners
of her daughter-in-law, now followed Hana about all day long.
The wall separating the older woman, the mother of several
children, and the young expectant mother had crumbled alto-
gether.
“Why don’t you visit Kudoyama and pray atJison-in for a safe
delivery before your confinement? I’ve just been to Daito-ji in
Musota to offer a prayer charm for my ailing eyes,” said Yasu
good-naturedly.
“Thank you. I’d like very much to see my family,” said Hana
who had not been back to her father’s home since the wedding.
Accompanied by Kiyo, Hana returned to the Kimoto home in
May. She was especially careful, keeping her eye on the weather
as she made her way along the River Ki. The river was breath-
takingly beautiful under the clear blue sky.
Toyono had come out to welcome her granddaughter but
found herself at a loss for words, so worn out did Hana look.
She looked carefully at the young woman for a little while.
“It'll probably be a boy,” said Toyono, breaking the silence.
With these words, the Kimoto matriarch and her granddaughter
fell back into the comfortable relationship they had enjoyed until
a year ago.
Hana could not imagine how Toyono, who had lived each day
solely for her, had managed to get along without her. As for
Toyono, she did not speak of her loneliness. Delighting in each
other's company, the two women simply reverted to their old
daily routine.
“Would you like me to read you the newspaper?”
“That would be nice. Even with my glasses I can hardly read.”
 RE AK leeoa3

Hana began to read aloud the headline on the first page of the
May I1 issue.
Balmy breezes and blue skies of early summer. The cranes in
the pines at the gate call out joyously on this auspicious occa-
sion.

Hana read smoothly the beautiful lines, then slowly looked up

at her grandmother who had been studying her profile. The two
women exchanged smiles.

His Imperial Highness and Crown Prince first appeared in

the uniform of an army major, resplendently decorated with
medals. At 7:30 P.M. in the Palace Sanctuary, he was attired
in ancient court robes. The Crown Prince and the Crown
Princess then performed their purificatory rites. Sannomiya
Shikibu entered the Palace Sanctuary, followed by the
Crown Prince to whom Chamberlain Maruo presented the
Jeweled Sword. The Director of the Crown Prince’s House-
hold proceeded into the Sanctuary. He was followed by the
Crown Princess attended by Ladies-in-Waiting Yoshimi and
Shogenji.. . .

Hana was able to read the article without stumbling over the
specialized terms pertaining to the imperial court. The youthful
ring to her voice belied the fact that she was in her fifth month of
pregnancy. Toyono closed her eyes, trying her best to imagine
what her granddaughter’s wedding had been like. She had seen to
it that her beloved granddaughter had received training in all the
feminine arts. Even now Toyono sincerely believed that no wed-
ding ceremony would have been too grand for Hana.
Hana could not bring herself to speak to her grandmother about
her estrangement from Kosaku. She was greatly relieved that
Toyono had not asked her why plans were not being made to
marry Kosaku to the Osawa girl. She was determined not to bring
the subject up, for the sole purpose of her visit was to make a
pilgrimage to Jison-in.
 “Have you brought the breast charms?”
“Yes, Grandmother. But they’re clumsily made.”
Hana had made the charms by wrapping a shiny piece of
habutaé silk around some wadding to form a ball, then pinching
and tying the center of each ball to represent a nipple. Studying
the charms, Toyono remained silent for a long moment.
“They certainly are tiny,” remarked Toyono, cupping them in
her hands. Although the matriarch had never done any hard labor
in her entire life, her palms were large and thick-skinned and her
fingers strong-looking indeed. Held in such hands, the breast
charms appeared very tiny.
“Please fetch my ink case.”
“Yes, Grandmother.”
Hana presently returned with the gold-lacquered ink case, which
she had fetched from its customary place next to Toyono’s read-
ing stand. Seating herself in a sunny spot on the veranda, Toyono
began to prepare some ink.
Nobutaka opened the door and peered into the women’s
quarters, something he seldom did.
“Please don’t monopolize Hana, Mother. After all, I’m her
father.”
He was feeling lonely and neglected because his daughter, who
had been away for so long, had been snatched away by his mother.
“Yes, I’m aware of that. I'll send her to your study in a little
while. Please be patient.”
Taking a step into the room, Nobutaka bent over Hana and
inquired:
“What's that you’re working on?”
“Nothing for you to see. Leave the room at once!” said
Toyono, rebuking her son, who sheepishly slipped out of the
room.
Hana slowly drew out the charms she had hidden under her
sleeve. Toyono picked up her brush and wrote: “Hana age
pee
Once again Toyono and Hana made their way up the steps to
Jison-in. In attendance were Toku and Kiyo. It was nearly noon
when the four women found themselves in front of the Miroku
Hall.
Kiyo, being the tallest, hung the breast charms from a pillar at
the entrance to the hall. Hana’s tiny charms were dazzling in their
whiteness among the older charms darkened by the elements. The
May sunshine poured into the hall. Toyono and Hana closed their
eyes and prayed.
Toyono stepped forward.
“Let’s ask the head priest for a good-luck charm.”
Toku ran ahead to the priest’s quarters. She found it intolerable
that Kiyo, a member of the Matani household, should be serving
Hana so closely. As for Kiyo, she flaunted her privileged position
before Toku, going out of her way to straighten Hana’s collar and
looking triumphantly at Toku whenever Hana asked a favor of
her. Hana took note of the silent rivalry between the two maids
and reminded herself that she was now a full-fledged member of
the Matani family. She made up her mind to return home the very
next day, even though her mother-in-law had given her permis-
sion to take her time with her family.
Nobutaka was terribly disappointed and tried his utmost to
persuade his daughter to stay longer. Toyono pursed her lips and
looked glum, her feelings deeply wounded. Knowing how stub-
born Hana could be, however, she did not voice any protest.

The rice-planting season began the following month, and it

rained ceaselessly in the northern part of Ki province.
“What rain!” said Keisaku, clicking his tongue in irritation. It
continued to pour with no sign of a letup. However, by August it
had become so sunny that everyone was confounded by the
strange weather they had been having that year.
On August 25, Ito Hirobumi announced in Tokyo the estab-
lishment of a new political party, the Seiyakai, which had long
been in the planning stage. Keisaku was beside himself with joy
when he heard the news and read aloud Marquis It6’s declaration.
 pera Aten:

Hana could not help but be amused: on the one hand, her husband
worried excessively about the rain and its adverse effect on the
farmers; on the other hand, he pressed the newspaper to his chest
in childish glee.
“The baby’s going to be a politician,” announced Keisaku in
an ebullient mood.
“Well then, I’ll just have to have a boy.”
“Tt has to be a boy. I’ve already decided on his name.”
“Have you?”
“Yes. I’m going to call him Seiichird. Matani Seiichird. Isn’t
that a splendid name for a politician?”
True to Keisaku’s prediction, Seiichird was born on October 3.
The women who attended Hana commented that the delivery had
been easy for a first child. Hana did not quite agree. Her knowl-
edge of childbirth, which she had received in bits and pieces, was
practically nil; she had had to exert every ounce of strength in her
body to have the child.
The Musota midwife forgot to liken the infant to a gem, as
custom dictated she should have done. Instead, she described how
beautiful the mother looked as she lay asleep in the bedding.
The rain, unconcerned by the joyous celebrations in the house-
hold at the birth of the first son, never stopped pouring down.
Autumn, the season of melancholy, had arrived. The daughter of
the Handas of Nishidegaito went as a bride to Iwade in the rain.
Confined to her bed,,Hana heard that the bride’s dowry had
filled three chests that had been covered with oilpaper to keep
them dry. Keisaku attended the wedding reception, but Hana was
not able to pay the bride a formal call the following day.
“How was the Yoshii wedding?” asked Hana one night when
her husband came in to see her, proudly carrying his little son in
his arms. Keisaku suddenly became silent and appeared preoccu-
pied. Unable to press him further, Hana studied her husband’s
profile. A moment later he walked out of the room.
On his way back from Iwade, Keisaku had noticed that the
waters of the River Ki were rising. Donning a raincoat, he fol-
lowed the road to the river and stood on the embankment. In the
pouring rain and the darkening light an eerie mist lay over the
river. The waters raged at Keisaku’s feet. Although he was certain
that the embankment would hold, he looked out anxiously over
the distant waters.
“Hello-o there!”
A man’s voice could be heard from the direction of the river.
Keisaku responded tentatively, wondering if he had heard cor-
rectly. A dark figure approached him.
“Who is it?”
“Why, aren’t you Matani Keisaku?”
“Yes. And you, Kanada Shige?”
“What are you doing out in this storm?”
“T’ve come to have a look at the rising waters. I’ve been worried
about the possibility of a flood.”
“So have I. It started to pour a while back. Will Isao Village be
all right?” asked Shige, scrutinizing the face of the young village
headman. He was very much relieved to see that Keisaku was
as trustworthy as his father.
“T think Isao will be all right,” replied Keisaku, looking up-
stream.
“Look, Shige. Isn’t that some lumber?”
“Yes, it is. That’s terrible! Do you think the dam at Iwade has
burst?”
Shige was only exaggerating, but Keisaku had already appraised
the situation. Once lumber began floating downriver, it was only
a matter of time before both bridge and dam gave way. There
was no one to protect the residents of Musota, but there was one
thing the men could do.
“Shige, run over to Sonobe. Tell the young men to gather
here with their fire axes. I'll get in touch with Musota and
Nogawa.”
“All right.”
Running in opposite directions in the rain and darkness, one
man headed east and the other west.
 The River Ki flooded its banks from late that night to early the
next morning, inundating a number of villages. At Musota the
young men banded together and removed all the floating pieces
of lumber they could reach. Various other precautions were taken,
but it was beyond their power to save the dam and the bridge.
It was most fortunate that Musota was built on slightly higher
land. Moreover, because three years earlier Keisaku had had the
embankments reinforced, the waters of the river did not overflow
into the village.
A rumor started circulating at dawn the next day that the low-
lying lands of Iwade had sustained the worst damage.
“Several houses were swept away, and quite a few people are
missing.”
“T hear several people died.”
Led by Keisaku, a group of young men from Isao set out to
aid the residents of Iwade in the afternoon when the rain had
abated somewhat. The mother of the Handa girl was beside her-
self with worry and, ignoring those who tried to comfort her,
followed the men.
“The groom was saved, but when he looked around, his bride
was no longer there.”
“After all, it only takes a second to be swept underwater.”
“Poor girl! She probably lost her way. She was a stranger
around here, after all.”
“Poor girl indeed! Why, the wedding was just ten days ago.
I can imagine how her parents feel.”
Listening to her mother-in-law and the maids lamenting the
loss of the Handa girl, Hana recollected Toyono’s words. A bride
should never travel against the flow of the River Ki on her
wedding journey. How she regretted not having warned her
husband about this superstition! Since Keisaku paid little attention
to tradition or superstition, Hana was sure that the Handa girl
would have gone to wade anyway. Nonetheless, Hana was over-
come with remorse for not having opposed the match.
On her own bridal journey in spring, the movement of the
river had been quiet and comforting. And then again, how tran-
quil the river had been in early summer! Hana could not believe
that that same river was capable of washing people away. Deeply
regretting her reticence, Hana began to have serious doubts
about whether submissiveness was really a virtue for women.

“Seiichiro. You're going to grow up to be a great politician,

aren't you?”
Keisaku worked day and night dealing with the flood damage.
Once he was home, however, he would forget his tiredness and
go to see his son. He would waken the baby if it were still asleep.
Putting his face close in front of the baby’s still-unseeing eyes, he
would say:
“Seiichiro. Grow up quickly!’ His voice seemed to echo with
the excitement of his work outdoors.
Because of his quick thinking during the flood, Keisaku became
famous. He was praised by one and all for the way he had gone
to aid Iwade.
“Don’t play with the child so. You mustn’t spoil him,” said
Hana, stopping her husband from carrying the baby.
“Tt’s all right. He’s my son, you know.”
“No, you mustn’t carry him!”
Keisaku looked at his wife in surprise. Elegant and obedient,
Hana was as beautiful as ever. And yet a look or a word was
enough to keep her husband in check.

It was a hectic time in and around the Matani household when

Hana had her second child. Tahei had intended to have Kosaku
set up a branch family during his lifetime and thereby avoid
placing the burden on Keisaku. However, two years earlier—before
he could carry out his plans—he had fallen ill and had died at the
age of seventy-two. Seiichir6, who was two at the time, crawled
innocently about during his grandfather’s funeral. Much to the
dismay of the adults, he stuffed his mouth with the rice cakes
ordered from one of the most famous shops in the west of Japan.
 “Tet him have what he wants!” said Kosaku.
Hana was most annoyed to hear Kosaku speak so coldly on this
solemn occasion. As the fateful day on which he would be given
his part of the family property approached, Kosaku resented
more than ever the Matani heir, his own nephew.
“Father said he wouldn’t let me set up a branch family unless
I was going to get married, but I’m already twenty-eight. I’m too
old now to be getting an offer to become an adopted son. If war
should break out with Russia, I may be drafted into the army.
In the meantime, let me at least build a house of my own.”
Kosaku brought up the subject of the branch family in the
spring of the following year, which had been greeted quietly by
the family, as they were still in mourning.
“T’ve been thinking the same thing,” said Keisaku, nodding.
““Whereabouts would you like to build your house?” he asked,
turning immediately to the more practical side of the affair.
“T think the area around Okunogaito would be ideal.”
“Do you mean the land below Shin’ike? You're right. The
air there is nice and clean. It’ll do wonders for your health.”
Kosaku gave Hana a piercing look, as if asking with his eyes
whether she knew why he spent his time idly at home, whether
she was aware of the fact that he had been unable to pursue his
chosen course of study because of a lung ailment.
“By the way, now that we're on the subject, Id like to discuss
with you the division,of the family property.”
Yasu, who had been dozing, opened wide her little eyes and
fixed them on Keisaku. Lately she had been complaining about
her poor eyesight and a whitish eye discharge. Her eyes were
bloodshot. They all looked at Keisaku.
“What is it that you want, Kosaku? I’ll share everythingI have
with you.”
Yasu and Hana sat in stunned silence. Kosaku bit his lower
lip with his small front teeth.
“{d rather have the hills than rice fields.”
“So it’s the hills you want. It’s just like you. Which ones?”
 Soe 49 so

“All of them.”
Keisaku was silent for a while.
“If they’re what you want, you can have them. What else?”
“Just give me enough rice land to produce my own rice.”
“Tl let you have the land from the bottom of the Matani land
proper all the way to Tenjin. Hachird and Kuma will be your
tenant farmers.”
“That’s poor rice land.”
Keisaku remained composed, even though Kosaku spoke in
such a bad-tempered tone.
“Anything else?” he asked, after turning over one-third of the
land to his brother.
“No. Just leave me alone from now on.”
“Done. Well then, there are a couple of things I’d like you to
do for me,” said Keisaku, sitting up straight.
‘Td like you to set up a new Matani family. Your name will
continue to be Matani, not Handa. All right?”
Keisaku intended to abolish the custom of having the branch
family change its name to Handa, a custom which had been ob-
served for generations.
Kosaku remained unmoved.
“Do you really mean that?”
“One more request. I’d like you to take on the title Chokui.”
This upset Yasu more than anyone else.
“Keisaku, the Chokui title is virtually the same thing as the
Matani name. If your father were alive, he wouldn’t allow this.”
Hana privately concurred with her mother-in-law, thinking
that what Keisaku was proposing was completely out of the ques-
tion. It was not acceptable for the junior family to strip the main
family of its hills and samurai title.
Kosaku watched as Keisaku’s announcement took effect on
Yasu and Hana, then turned to his brother, and said brusquely.
“T don’t want the title. What use would a samurai title be to
the head of a branch family? I'll become a commoner with a
social status to match.”
 Not even thanking his brother for his generosity, Kosaku rose
to his feet as though his business were finished.
“‘There’s no need for you to worry,” he said very politely to
Hana as he left the room. Keisaku was seething with anger at
having been rebuffed.
‘Fool! How warped can he get?”’ muttered Keisaku after he
and Hana found themselves in the privacy of their room.
“I feel the same way about him!”
Realizing that her husband was extremely agitated, Hana ab-
stained from expressing further her disapproval of Kosaku and
was careful as to how she dealt with him.
“The way some people talk, you would think that the head
of a branch family is treated like an outcast. They don’t realize
there are any number of main families with no property to di-
vide.”
“Yes, I know.”
“The second son of the Yamamotos of Miyanomae went to
America. Kdsaku must realize that he’s also a second son. What
does that good-for-nothing have to complain about? Further-
more, if war did break out, a man in his physical condition would
never be drafted. Even if he insisted on enlisting, he’d be rejected.
What childish gibberish he speaks!”
Hana was taken aback to hear her husband heaping so much
abuse on Kosaku, knowing very well that he would never speak
to his brother in the same tone. She watched her husband take
off his haori, whip the tatami with the sash he had removed, and
stamp his feet in anger as he changed into his night kimono. Her
husband was behaving like their son, who was slowly starting to
assert himself and who threw a tantrum when he did not get his
way. With a smile playing on her lips, Hana quietly picked up
the articles of clothing Keisaku had left scattered about, folding
them and putting them away in the clothes box.
“Hana.”
“Yes, dear.”
“Come to bed.”
 Hana automatically removed the comb from her hair and
pressed it against her sidelocks. Her hair was done up in a chignon
with not a hair out of place The nape of her neck was of a beauty
befitting a woman who had been married for five years. The vil-
lagers were now accustomed to addressing her as “Madame.” In
Musota this title was reserved exclusively for the wife of the head
of the Matani family. It made Hana feel uneasy to be called ““Ma-
dame” while Yasu was still alive. Nonetheless, Keisaku was now
the head of the household and Hana was his wife. From about
this time Hana took full charge of the kitchen, for Yasu had gra-
ciously relinquished her place to her daughter-in-law. Although
Yasu still felt constrained toward Hana, she seldom complained.
She had always been a modest and kind-hearted woman. After
Hana took charge of running the household, the best she could
do was to grow old graciously. People said it was on account of
Hana’s wisdom that there was no discord between the two women.
“Once Kosaku sets up a branch family, you won’t have many
problems to deal with. I feel very much relieved, now that I’ve
turned over all that land to him,” said Keisaku.
“That was so unexpected! I was really stunned when you said
you'd give him the land he asked for.”
“Even if I gave all of the land away, I don’t think I could per-
form all my duties as well as I’d like to. And if I didn’t perform
them, would people come to consult me as they do now?”
What Keisaku suggested was true. He was now thirty and
widely recognized as the most efficient man of action not only
in Isao but in all of Kaisd County. The prefectural government
officials frequently came from Wakayama City to seek his advice.
They broadly hinted that they would like him to run as a can-
didate for the Prefectural House in the near future.
“I may yet become a politician before Seiichird.”
“Perhaps you will.”
“What have you been thinking about?”
“Oh, nothing in particular.”
“Something’s on your mind. Out with it.”
 SD) se

“Tt occurred to me that you will be needing money to go into

politics. If you give all your land away. . .”
Keisaku was taken aback. Money was of foremost importance
in politics. A landowner sold his land in order to raise
money.
Keisaku bit his lip when his wife questioned him about the
wisdom of having all his valuable land taken away by the branch
family.
“T didn’t own many hills in the first place. Anyhow, everything
in Kaiso County is still mine.”
“Just Kaiso County?”
‘““What do you mean?” he asked. Hana was smiling serenely,
her face illuminated by light from the lamp.
“Why, I thought that all of Wakayama Prefecture belonged
to you!”
“Oh, Hana!” cried Keisaku, embracing his wife, happy to hear
her express her hopes for the future. Whispering her name again
and again, he resolved to run for a government office. Held tightly
in his embrace, Hana felt that something had germinated in her
husband. She recalled what Toyono had said about a family’s
social status being determined by the head of the household. Clos-
ing her eyes, she let her husband have his pleasure. Hana was
certain that Keisaku would one day become the great man her
grandmother had imagined he would be.
“Hana.” ‘

“Yes, dear.”
“Kosaku is so pathetic. It was all right for me to give him the
hills, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
Thinking that he had drifted off to sleep, Hana slipped away
from her husband. He then murmured:
“Actually, Kosaku would rather remain in this house. No doubt
about it, he’s in love with you.”
“What nonsense!”
“I don’t blame him. He can’t help being so perverse. Since I
have you, it’s a bargain to give him the good land,” Keisaku
muttered.
He closed his eyes. Having apparently found some peace of
mind after uttering these words, he drifted off to sleep. Presently
Hana heard the sound of heavy breathing. Her husband’s nose and
mouth were large and his face a deep tan. As he slept, his Adam’s
apple, which protruded considerably, throbbed from time to
time. Hana wondered what he was dreaming of.
Dazed, Hana raised the wick of the lamp. She had been com-
pletely shaken by the words her husband had so casually uttered.
Kosaku was in love with his sister-in-law. Hana could not believe
it, however plausible it in fact was. She had tried not to take seri-
ously the words of the maids who had commented that Kosaku
had become increasingly difficult since she had come into the
household. However, little did she dream that infatuation had
been the reason behind his strange behavior. It was highly un-
likely that Keisaku had thought of this only tonight. That he had
not spoken of it in all this time filled Hana with dismay. She
reviewed chronologically her relationship with her brother-in-
law since her arrival, trying to prove that there was no truth to
her husband’s statement. This only made her feel more uneasy
than ever. Kosaku had always treated her very coldly. He was
aloof and went out of his way to avoid her. Never for an instant
had he behaved naturally toward her.
Hana had been a membér of the Matani family for five years.
She was now twenty-six and the mother of a three-year-old
child. That the knowledge of Kosaku’s infatuation made her blush
even now showed how greatly it offended the womanly virtues
she had been taught to believe in. Hana chided herself for enter-
taining such fancies and, feeling deeply ashamed of herself, lay
down in bed. The large quilt felt extremely heavy that night. She
tossed about restlessly, lowering the wick a little at a time. Long
after she had blown out the flame, she still had difficulty drifting
off to sleep.
 That autumn Hana visited her family in Kudoyama for the first
time in four years. Eighty-year-old Toyono, in the best of health,
came out to welcome her granddaughter.
“There’s trouble in store for all of us. It looks like war again,”
announced Toyono, who continued to take a deep interest in na-
tional and world affairs.
“Tt’s inevitable.”
“Did Keisaku say that?”
“Yes, he did.”
“He’s probably right. But Russia is so much bigger than China.
Have you read Dostoevsky?”
“Yes, I have,” answered Hana.
Gazing into the distance, Toyono shook her head.
“Japan should avoid going to war with a country like Russia
that has produced such great men as Tolstoy and Dostoevsky.”
Toyono, who read each issue of Kokumin no tomo and Miyako
no hana, was familiar with foreign literature.
“An article in yesterday’s paper said that Kotoku Shisui and
Uchimura Kanzo are going to abandon the antiwar newspaper
Yorozu Choho. With society in the state it’s in, it'll be increasingly
difficult for anyone opposing war with Russia.”
“Has Keisaku been telling you this?”
“No, Kosaku has.”
Hana could not find it in her to tell her grandmother that she
had borrowed Dostoeysky’s Crime and Punishment, translated by
Uchida Fuchian, from her brother-in-law.
“I understand Kosaku is establishing a branch family.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Have they selected a bride for him?”
“No, not yet. He’s just going to build his own house.”
“That’s strange. I wonder why?”
Needless to say, Hana could not very well say that it was be-
cause Kosaku was in love with her. After all, she had no definite
proof that what her husband had said was true. Nonetheless, ever
since he was given permission to set up a branch family, Kosaku
had become very cheerful and friendly toward Hana. Whenever
she asked to borrow new translations or novels by Kitamura
Shaiya or Nakanishi Baika, he willingly lent them to her. On one
occasion he even urged her to read the essays of Abe Isoo.
“Tm glad to hear he’s more cheerful these days. He must have
made things extremely difficult for you.”
Although Hana had never complained to her family, Toyono
seemed to know about everything. As they had done four years
earlier, the two women followed the road leading to Jison-in.
Hana suddenly looked up at a persimmon tree by the roadside.
“This year is a good year for persimmons.”
Kudoyama was famous for its persimmons. The large, sweet,
rich-flavored persimmons were a bright orange among the
dark branches.
“Yes, it’s a very good year. But you know pregnant women
shouldn’t eat persimmons. What a pity you can’t have any after
coming all this distance.”
“They smell so good I can hardly wait to help myself to some.”
“How can you say such a thing? It wouldn’t do to get a chill in
the stomach,” said Toyono, once again Hana’s grandmother.
In a light-hearted mood, Toyono climbed up the stone steps
without the assistance of Toku. On the other hand, Hana, who
was already several months into her pregnancy, climbed slug-
gishly up a step at a time.
“Madame is so full of energy!” exclaimed Kiyo. Toku agreed.
“She’s getting older, though. She can’t read the paper any
more, so she summons relatives from the main house and has
them read it aloud to her from beginning to end. Moreover, who-
ever is summoned is made to read difficult books as well. Every-
one complains that it takes all day to please her. And when
anyone makes a mistake in reading, she says in a cutting tone that
she wishes Hana were here. As for the members of the branch
family, they feel rather aggrieved about it all,” Toku reported in
a low voice.
Toyono was now very hard-of-hearing and could not hear a
word of the maids’ conversation. Listening in from the side, Hana
realized that the two women were no longer competing with one
another over her as they once had and reflected upon the years
that had slipped by since she left the Kimoto household. She was
now a full-fledged member of the Matani family, enough to make
any woman feel satisfied.
The breast charms on which Toyono had written Hana’s name
and age were much larger than the ones Hana had presented
when she was expecting Seiichird. Having once been through the
experience of childbirth, Hana no longer felt uneasy or embar-
rassed. She looked up at the charms which Kiyo had hung in front
of the hall.
“This year will be a good one,” declared Hana confidently.
“Tt will indeed be an auspicious one,” responded Toyono light-
heartedly.
The four women looked up at the other white charms near
Hana’s. It was apparent that a number of young women in the
area were pregnant.
“It has been a long time. Do come in and have some tea.”
The head priest’s wife emerged from the priest’s private
quarters. So earnestly did she urge them to come in that Toyono
and Hana accepted the cordial invitation and seated themselves
on the sunny veranda. The woman then went to pick some
persimmons and served them just as they were in the basket.
Hana was absolutely delighted.
“How wonderful! I’d love to have some.”
Toyono reluctantly allowed Hana to taste the fruit.
“L suppose you won’t get a chill from eating persimmons served
by the priest’s wife, but see that you don’t overeat.”
Hana took up a knife and skillfully pared a persimmon. Toku
stared in utter amazement, for she had no recollection of Hana’s
being able to handle a knife so deftly. Furthermore, she could not
imagine Hana working in the Matani kitchen.
After paring the fruit and cutting it into quarters, Hana placed
the persimmon on a plate and offered it to Toyono.
 “No, thank you, dear. I can’t have any.”
“Have you got stomach trouble?”
“Not at the moment, but I’ve made it a point to avoid anything
raw, including vegetables and sashimi.”
Hana ate the persimmon with relish and then wiped her lips
clean with a tissue.
“My, that was good! In Musota they say that persimmons are
especially delicious if you wait till they’re really ripe and chewy.
The proper way, though, is to have the persimmons when they’re
still crisp like this.”
Toyono narrowed her eyes as she watched her granddaughter
eat the fruit.
“Tll have a branch of our tree cut off for you in the spring.
I should have thought sooner of having it grafted with a branch of
Kudoyama persimmon.”
“Does it really take eight years for a grafted tree to bear fruit?”
“No, it'll take only about five years. Your second child will
be climbing the tree to pick the fruit.”
Hana tried to picture an energetic little boy climbing the tree
in the Matani garden. The baby was due in May of the following
year.
Toward the end of the year, Kono Hironaka, Speaker of the
House, censured the Katsura Cabinet in a written answer to the
Imperial Rescript. The Nineteenth Congress was recessed and
public uproar reached a climax. The situation grew critical as the
year drew to a close and finally, on February 10, war was declared.
Because of the lack of accommodation for the reserves called up
on such short notice, the soldiers of the Wakayama Sixty-first
Regiment were billeted in the homes of the wealthy. The Matanis
received a list of over ten names. To accommodate the men, they
opened up the extra rooms in the house. The family, moreover,
lavishly entertained the men as they would soon be going off to
war, serving them saké and canapés every night and sometimes
even summoning geishas from the licensed quarter.
Although she was in an advanced stage of pregnancy, Hana
worked diligently to see that the men’s nightclothes were laun-
dered and that the miso soup was seasoned just right so that the
young soldiers from Shikoku would have a pleasant stay. The
men were truly grateful. A few among them, blind to Hana’s
ungainly figure, fell in love with her lovely face.
“Madame, will you let us visit you when we return vic-
torious?”’
“By all means,” replied Hana with a smile.
“But I may die in battle.”
“Why should you? How could Russian bullets strike a son of
the Land of the Gods?” asked Hana, trying to cheer the man
up. Suddenly, his face darkened.
“Td rather die in battle and become a war hero. If Icome back,
all I’ll get is some rice land and cold treatment from my family.”
Hana was overcome with emotion when she realized that the
world was full of men like Kosaku. The eldest son was exempt
from military service. The young men billcted at the Matanis’
were, without exception, the younger sons of farmers. They had
learned from the Sino-Japanese War of a decade earlier that in
going offtowar, they were virtually going to their deaths. Hana’s
role was to cheer up these gloomy young men, but she suddenly
thought of the sad fate of the child she was carrying. The second
son born into the family, now that it no longer owned any hills,
would be even more bitter than Kosaku.
Feeling infcrior to the soldiers who exuded good health, Kdsaku
failed to make an appearance at the banquets. One day he de-
liberately snubbed Hana when she passed him in the garden.
“Who’s that?”
“My husband’s younger brother. He’s going to set up a branch
family.”
The soldiers were in no position to speak ill of amember of a
family to whom they were indebted, but they apparently took
a dislike to Kosaku. When inebriated and carried away by the
warmth of a spring night, they would strip to the waist.
“Madame, look at the handsome flesh of real men. And then
take a look at that miserable lad over there!” said one of the
men, giving his suntanned chest a hefty pounding with his fist
to show her what he meant.
Keisaku kept the men company nearly every night, returning
tipsy to his room in the dead of night. Hana knew very well that
her husband could not hold his drink—one bottle of saké was
enough to cause him to walk unsteadily. Nonetheless, Keisaku
was a good host and could spend hours at a drinking party
picking at his food. Instead of drinking, he would deftly maneuver
the drinks to his drinking partner. For this talent, he was much
admired by the people of influence in the village.

“Hana.”
“Yes, dear.”
“Have you visited Kosaku? He’s built himself a most unusual
house.
“Really?”’
“It’s a quaint little cottage. The rooms are so tiny you and I
would feel stifled. But he has apparently lavished a great deal of
money on it. I had never realized that he was so free with his
money.”
Hana had been unable to go to the house-warming because of
her pregnancy, but from her husband’s description of the place,
she saw that the house plan suited Kosaku perfectly. He probably
intended to remain a bachelor all his life. Hana remembered
coming across the words “Platonic love” when she was a student
at Wakayama Girls’ School studying English together with
Toyono. These words had a special significance for her now,
especially since her husband had begun to frequent the gay
quarters together with officials of the prefectural government.
She felt that Kdsaku’s love for her could only be described as
being “Platonic.” Remembering that she was pregnant, Hana
felt thoroughly ashamed of herself for having such thoughts.
“You mustn’t come to visit until after the baby is born, for the
road leading to my cottage is very rugged. You'll find the ar-
chitecture very unusual for Wakayama. Nonetheless, it’s just big
enough for a bachelor.”
‘You have only to say the word and we'll gladly send over one
of the maids. Please don’t be so formal.”
“Why should I be? After all, I’ve been a member of the Matani
family longer than you.”
Kosaku’s mood was likely to change at the slightest slip of the
tongue, so Hana commended herself for having made a tre-
mendous effort to get along with him.
“Keisaku mentioned the other day how interesting your
house was. I’m most anxious to see it.”
“Come with the baby. I’ve dug a deep well, and so the water
is sweeter than it is here.”
“Oh good.”
“If the baby is a boy, I'd like to make him my heir.”
“We'll see. We’re wondering if he'll grow up to be a bureau-
crat.
‘A bureaucrat? Bureaucrats are the most odious people.”
Hana had made another blunder.
Studying Hana’s advanced state of pregnancy, Kosaku nar-
rowed his eyes.
“If the baby is born on Boys’ Day, I'll give you a special prize.
I’ve already thought of a name for him.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Yujird. How does that sound? You'd then have both the Sei
and Ya of Seiytkai in the family.”
The first electoral precinct was made up of Wakayama City
and KaisO County. Among the politicians representing the
constituents were Tasaki Yusuke and Hoshi Toru. Both men
were vociferous members of the Sciytikai. It was difficult to
gauge to what extent Keisaku’s influence had helped to advance
the interest of the party in the Kansai area.

“What if Yajiro turns out to be another Kosaku?” asked Hana,

thinking out loud.
 “What do you mean? Yajird will be the village headman and
Seiichird, a member of parliament. I’d rather not have another
son if he’s going to turn out to be a good-for-nothing like
Kosaku.”
It was a slightly delayed and very difficult delivery. Early in the
morning of May ro Hana had a baby girl, much to the disappoint-
ment of the baby’s father.
“Soits.a girl”
Keisaku’s hopes for a political team of brothers were completely
dashed. Hana sensed his deep disappointment when, seated at her
bedside, he thanked her formally for her troubles.
“Tl have another baby.”
“Of course you will.”
Lantern parades commemorating Japan’s victory over Russia
were scheduled both in Wakayama and in Tokyo. Extremely
busy seeing to the details, Keisaku left the house in the morning
and failed to return that night. Yasu remained at Hana’s bedside
all day long. The next morning she hovered about, making a
fuss over the baby.
Hana, still stunned by Keisaku’s obvious disappointment, had
forgotten altogether to thank her mother-in-law for coming to
see her. On this occasion, there was none of the intense joy that
had filled the house to overflowing at the time of Seiichiro’s birth.
“The Kitas of Ryimon sent us some sea bream. I didn’t have
any of it served to you, because I was afraid it might stop the flow
of milk. However, please remember to acknowledge the present.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“You don’t sound well. A woman is under such strain after
childbirth that she often comes down with a strange illness.”
“Tl be careful. I just feel utterly exhausted.”
Yasu, startled, looked at Hana. Nervously taking out a scarlet
silk handkerchief from her breast fold, she pressed it to her cyes.
A messenger had arrived late the night before bearing the news
of Toyono’s sudden death. Yasu wiped her eyes, wondering
whether or not to tell Hana.
 “Don’t worry about me. By the way, Mother, how are your
eyes?”
Although she herself was having difficulty breathing, Hana
was more concerned about her mother-in-law’s well-being.
“They aren’t any better, despite the fact that I’ve been taking
Dr. Hirohashi’s medicine. Father must be summoning me.”
“You mustn’t talk like that! How could I show you my devo-
tion if you die?”
Thus rebuked, Yasu looked at Hana with bloodshot eyes. It
had moved her profoundly to hear her daughter-in-law wish her
a long life. Yasu realized that, if Hana were told about Toyono’s
death, she would recover from the shock, but, being timid by
nature, Yasu was unable to report the sad tidings and spoke
instead to her son who returned late that night from the city.
“T didn’t have the heart to tell her,’ she confessed, asking
her son to report the news.

“Yes? Oh, it’s you. Welcome home. I’m sorry, I was asleep.”
Hana hurriedly adjusted her hair as Keisaku looked down at
her.
“We've received word from Kudoyama that. . .”
“Yes? What is it?”
“There’s been a death in the family.”
Keisaku did not mention who had died, but Hana swallowed
hard. His dark eyes tald her who it was.
“Oh? My, but it was sudden!”’
“They say that two days ago, shortly after noon, she somehow
fell from the veranda. No one worried at the time, because she
didn’t injure herself and wasn’t in pain. But, when she failed to
get up yesterday morning, they went to look in on her and found
her dead.”
Hana studied her husband’s face in silence. Although she
nodded each time he paused for breath, there was a terrible ring-
ing in her head which prevented her from hearing every word.
She could see in her mind’s eye the face of her grandmother when
she had refused the persimmon. It had been in autumn that they
had sat side by side on the veranda of the priest’s quarters.
Getting his things together, Keisaku announced that even
though he might not be in time for the wake he was leaving at once.
His newly tailored suit was appropriate for a lantern parade, but
he had to have a black crested kimono for a funeral. Hana asked
Kiyo to fetch the formal kimono from the chest of drawers.
“Has the condolence gift been sent on ahead?”
“Tm afraid not.”
Hana had only now been informed of her grandmother’s death
and could not possibly have sent a condolence gift. Looking down
at his wife who was struggling to sit up, Keisaku said gently:
‘Don’t worry. I’ll say prayers for you as well.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
In the still of the night, long after Keisaku’s departure, Hana
remained in a state of shock. Toyono’s death had been so sudden
she could not believe that she was gone. As the night grew darker,
Hana got up to raise the wick on the lamp. The baby girl, born
the day before, lay fast asleep in the tiny bed at her side. The
nose and eyes, ears and mouth were still hidden in the soft flesh,
but the baby was breathing regularly. She had been so sure that
she was going to have a boy that the quilt with indigo and
yellow stripes was patterned with helmets and swords, a design
appropriate for the Boys’ Festival in May. But she had had a
girl, Hana reflected absently. It brought a smile to her lips to
see the baby girl, who would be brought up elegantly, bundled
up in a quilt with a design intended for a boy.
It suddenly occurred to Hana that the baby was the reincarna-
tion of her grandmother. Toyono’s spirit had left her body at
dawn on the previous day and had been transferred to this child.
Of this Hana was certain. When Keisaku had expressed his
disappointment that the baby was a girl, Hana had apologized,
saying that she would have another child. However, from the
time she was thoroughly convinced that the baby was a rein-
carnation of her grandmother, she no longer felt tired. A wave of
elation swept over her and she congratulated herself for having
given birth to a girl. Hana leaned forward and looked into the
face of the sleeping child, beaming with happiness, the mother of
a beautiful baby.
It amused her to realize that she had not yet thought of a name
for the baby girl. Her eldest son had had his name chosen for him
six months before his birth. But this baby had turned out to bea
girl; she could not very well be called Yajird. Hana was at a
loss what to do. She studied the little baby closely. Tears streamed
down her face as she thought once again of her grandmother’s
death. Returning to her bed, she wept softly.
Keisaku took no interest whatever in choosing a name for his
daughter. Nor was this because the baby’s seventh-day obser-
vance, when it was customary to give a child its name, coincided
with Toyono’s first seventh-day death anniversary.
As Yasu could barely read, Hana felt she should not ask her
to think of a name. If Toyono were alive, Hana could have asked
her. She did not feel it proper to ask her father who was in mourn-
ing, and so she was left with the task. She pictured in her mind’s
eye a brush running along the ceiling and writing out different
girls’ names. In the end, she decided on Fumio.
“A fine name,” remarked Kosaku who seldom praised anyone.
He really believed that it was the perfect name for his niece.
“T’m glad you like it.”
Because Kosaku happened to be passing by at the time, she
had consulted him first. Hana felt that there was something signi-
ficant in the fortuitous meeting. Keisaku remained in Wakayama
City for the victory celebrations; however, even on the rare
occasions when he did return home, he had a number of matters
to attend to in the village office. He also felt obligated to visit
the elementary schools in Musota and Sonobe to confer with the
principals. Therefore, he had little time for his daughter. Keisaku,
who had never been interested in literature, became increasingly
absorbed in politics. When Kosaku praised her choice of a name for
the baby, Hana felt grateful that at least one person seemed to care.
 “Don’t you find it inconvenient to be all alone?” she asked
Kosaku.
“On the contrary, it’s rather pleasant. I enjoy not being nagged
at.
Kosaku was merely being sarcastic, for no one had bothered
him much when he lived in the main house. Hana had grown
accustomed to his awkward nature, but the residents of Musota
and Sonobe treated him coldly at the village office. Fully aware of
their unfriendly attitude toward him, Kosaku became even more
cynical. Hana knew that Keisaku was trying to force his brother
to resign as village clerk, because he rarely reported for work. He
lived alone after moving into his own house, positive that no maid
would want to serve him. Hana felt that if she were his mother
she would go to live with him. Anyone would willingly have
followed Keisaku, but no one close to Kdsaku wished to go with
him. Nonetheless, Hana was his sister-in-law. His own mother
trembled in his presence, so afraid of eliciting a sarcastic comment
from him that she was rendered speechless.
‘“Fumio’s father won’t give her any love. She’s a lucky girl to
have a doting uncle.”
Apparently very lonely living all alone, Kosaku often came
to visit the main family. He adored Fumio, lavishing her with
attention. Being skillful with his hands, he personally took care of
everything, including—once he had found out where they were
kept—the changing of the baby’s diapers.
“T guess I love you as I do because I don’t have a girl of my own.
It'd have been traumatic if you had been a boy. You see, the
family no longer owns much land. The lot of a second son would
be even more wretched than mine when the time came for him
to set up a branch family. It’s a terrible thing to have nothing to
look forward to except becoming an adopted son. I’m glad you're
a girl. Fumio, you're so lucky you're a girl!”

Kosaku strolled about aimlessly, carrying his niece in his

arms. He now had a great deal of time on his hands, for he had
resigned from his job. Taking care of the baby was also his way
of getting some exercise.
‘A cold evening wind has sprung up. Where could they have
gone?”
Hana could never feel at ease when Kosaku was with the chil-
dren. Thinking that they might have gone to the shrine, she went
out to look for them. Just then Kosaku called to her from the
gate.
“Welcome home. I was going out to meet you.”
‘Hear that, Fumio? Your mother has come for you. She didn’t
really have to.”
“Where did Uncle take you?”
Following a few steps behind Kosaku, Seiichiré replied:
‘““We went to see the pond.”
“Pond? Which pond?”
“Shin’ike.”
Hana was dumfounded. Shin’ike, which was located beyond
Okunogaito, was where Kosaku had built his house. Kdsaku,
accompanied by his little nephew, had walked all that distance
and back carrying in his arms a six-month-old baby.
“My, you've covered a great distance,” remarked Hana, ad-
dressing neither Kosaku nor her son. The road which led to
Shin’ike was very steep. For this reason Hana had been unable to go
to the house-warming during her pregnancy. She had yet to visit
Kosaku’s new home, as she had until then felt weak from child-
birth. Hana was surprised that her four-year-old son had grown
big enough to walk all that distance and back. Kosaku was not a
strong man, so Hana worried about his having carried the baby
so far. She also worried that Fumio might come down with a
cold after having been exposed to the cold wind.
“She must feel terribly heavy after carrying her for so long.
Come to Mother, dear.”
Hana held tightly the small warm bundle wrapped up in the
quilt. She and Kosaku stood very still. Neither made a move
toward the house in that brief moment which to both of them
seemed an eternity. Then, pricked by her conscience, Hana took a
step forward, although it seemed that her feet had been nailed to
the ground.
“Look! The grafting has been successful,” remarked Kosaku,
looking at the persimmon tree near the gate.
“Yes, it has,” Hana answered, at long last able to breathe freely.
The branch which Toyono had sent over in the spring had been
successfully grafted to their persimmon tree. However, the
Matanis did not anticipate any fruit this year, as this was just the
first autumn since the branch was grafted. Small red leaves clung
tenaciously to the dark branch. It was obvious that the grafted
branch was receiving nourishment from the earth. One could
always be certain that there was life in this branch, even if it
should fail to bear fruit next autumn as well.
“When do you think it will bear fruit?” asked Hana.
“How should I know? Ask Keisaku.” Kosaku then departed
abruptly for home, ignoring her invitation to have some tea and
rest a while.
Fumio began to cry in the middle of the night and Hana had a
difficult time getting her back to sleep again. Keisaku was awak-
ened by Fumio’s crying.
“She cries a lot, doesn’t she?”
“T guess she was outdoors for too long.”
“So she’s been outdoors, has she?”
Hana explained that Kosaku had taken her and Seiichiro all
the way to his new home. Keisaku frowned.
‘Don’t you think the children will get sick?”
“T’m sorry.”
Hana bowed her head meekly, wishing to avoid an argument
with her husband. She knew more about Késaku’s illness than
Keisaku. It had been carefully explained to her that the children
could not catch Kosaku’s illness, even if he carried them in his
arms. It therefore did not bother Hana to be thus reprimanded.
She immediately turned to a more urgent subject that she wished
to discuss with her husband.
 “Seiichird mentioned seeing a young girl at Shin’ike.”
The villagers now referred to Kosaku’s new home as Shin’ike
because of its proximity to a place of the same name. Her son had
innocently remarked:
“There was a lady at Uncle’s house.”
Hana had been truly startled. Surely her husband would react
in the same manner to this piece of news, she thought.
“I gathered as much,” said Keisaku. It seemed that he had
known about the girl all along.
“T didn’t know about her at all. Is she from this area?”
“No, she isn’t. If she were, I’d have known about her right
away. He apparently brought her home with him from the
city.
“Oh, dear! From the city?”
“Yes. It seems he asked a friend to help him find a maid. He’s
so intensely private! I don’t care for that kind of secrecy. I just
hope that this doesn’t start any ugly rumors!”
“Ts there anything suspicious about the girl?”
“Not that I know of. I haven’t yet met her. She’s presently
serving as a maid in his house.”
“Why, that’s marvelous!”
“But there was no need to keep it from me. He’s such a head-
ache! Regardless of what he had said, he should have had a maid
from the beginning to keep the house in order. Please check on
the situation as soon as you can.”
“Yes, dear.” j
Hana too had been worried. Now completely recovered from
childbirth, she could visit Shin’ike if she wished to. This was a
perfect chance for her to make a formal call.
One lovely autumn afternoon, Hana, with a small basket on
her arm, headed north along the pathway through the rice fields.
Most of the fields on either side of her had been harvested and
men were busy threshing the rice; the grains were scattered all
around them on the ground. They were using a threshing im-
plement with six-foot-long pointed teeth which they pulled over
the sheaves of rice to rake off the grains. The golden husks formed
tiny mountains in front of the threshing device and the men who
were operating it. As Hana looked on, the husks were scooped up
and carried away by the women. The grains of rice, exposed to
the strong sunlight, exuded a rich smell. In the Japanese art of
incense-smelling, one did not “smell’’ incense, one “savored”
it. Hana thought that she could truly “savor” the fragrance of
autumn. Apart from Kudoyama where she had been brought
up, Wakayama City was the only other place she knew fairly
well. Surrounded by mulberry fields and rice paddies, she was
now in the autumn of her sixth year since first coming to Musota.
Still, the harvest season seemed to have a fresh significance for
her. She could practically taste the rich fragrance of autumn rising
from the fields which had produced a bountiful harvest.
Dressed in a haori with a fine design over a purplish gray
silk kimono, Hana walked briskly though the fields. The tenant
farmers paused in their work and called out to her.
“Isn't it a lovely day?”
“Indeed it is. You all work so diligently!”
“How unusual it is to see you out here. Are you heading any-
where in particular?”
“Yes. I am going to visit Shin’ike for the first time.”
“Oh? Have a pleasant visit.”
“Thank you.”
Each time a farmer called out to her, Hana stopped and bowed
politely before continuing on her way. Her politeness was
unaffected and the farmers, who had never been accorded such
courtesy by their former mistress, were deeply impressed. They
made a great effort to use polite speech, which they were unac-
customed to.
“A lovely woman! It’s hard to believe she’s the mother of two.”
“She looked quite a picture with that basket on her arm.”
The farmers looked admiringly in Hana’s direction long after
she had passed. The villagers still talked about her magnificent
wedding. They had the utmost respect for the Matani family,
which had provided the village headman for generations. They
felt, however, that Hana had finally given it some class. Hana’s
refinement and accomplishments had elicited the respect of the
people, not the fact that she was from the prestigious Kimoto
family. Even though she was a woman, Hana had won the vil-
lagers’ affection.
Hana was well aware that all eyes were riveted on her, but she
was not at all perturbed. Ever since she was a child, she had been
so accustomed to being the center of attention that she did not feel
at-all self-conscious.
“Ts anyone at home?”
Having been told that there was only one road leading up to
Shin’ike beyond Okunogaito, Hana arrived safely at Kosaku’s
house without losing her way. However, nothing stirred in the
grounds of the house. Kosaku had said that the house was small,
but there was a large storehouse out in front and the house itself
seemed to have considerable depth. One glance at the wood of
the tightly closed front door told her that it was of a superior
quality.
“Ts anyone home? It’s me, Hana,” she called out in a loud voice.
There was no answer.
Being a close relation, Hana felt that it was all right for her to
go in and wait inside, even though no one seemed to be at home.
Unlike the ancient, heavy door of the Matani mansion, the front
door slid open when she pushed against it lightly.
“Is anyone home?” repeated Hana softly, as though she were
speaking to the house. The concrete floor had been swept clean.
Placed neatly side by side next to the stepping stone was a pair
of clogs whose thongs were being loosened for daily wear. When-
ever Kosaku changed to new clogs, he would wear the new pair
for short distances around the house until he had broken them in.
The clogs he wore when he came to visit looked so old and worn
that Hana had been thinking of getting him a new pair. Indeed,
his fastidiousness was in keeping with one who intended to
remain a bachelor.
 Hana sat down at the entrance and peered into the house.
Beyond the latticework door was the kitchen, complete with a
modern stove. The sink and water jar were indoors. This im-
pressed Hana, a devotee of the tea ceremony. Although she was
eager to see more of the house that Kosaku had personally de-
signed, she could not very well prowl about an empty house.
Suppressing her curiosity, Hana carefully lowered the basket
from her lap and removed the kerchief: The basket was filled with
eggs for Kosaku, who, being of a weak constitution, was in need
of the extra nourishment. Keisaku had been successful in breeding
a new species of hen that had been introduced from the West.
Hana had selected ten of the whitest eggs and had brought them
with her. This was not the first time she was presenting her
brother-in-law with eggs. Chicken eggs were believed to have
the highest nutritional value; therefore, whenever Kosaku came
to visit, Hana had him take home some of the eggs. The only
difference this time was that she was delivering them in person.
In an attempt to make the eggs look like a formal present, she
had covered them with the tea ceremony kerchief she had
brought with her as a bride and which she had not had an oppor-
tunity to use. The red handwoven brocade, embossed in gold
with the Matani crest, was lined with white material on which
there was a landscape painting in ink by Komuro Suiun.
Hana gazed at the painting for a while. She then took out an
egg from the basket and gently tapped the pointed end with a
coral hair ornament which she had removed from her chignon.
Hana had no difficulty breaking the shell and leaving the mem-
brane intact, though this required considerable dexterity. She
then fitted the hair ornament back in her hair and gently, very
gently, broke the membrane with her fingers. Placing her lips to
the egg, she threw her head back and drank it all up. The egg
white, mixed with the rich-flavored yolk, felt very soothing as it
slipped down her throat. She believed that the egg would banish
the tiredness she felt from having climbed the steep uphill road
without pausing for rest. Hana also remembered that she had
brought with her an even number of eggs, and one always
presented things in odd numbers. Besides which, she firmly
believed that eggs were a panacea.
After helping herself to the egg, Hana suddenly became
aware of a pair of dark eyes fixed on her back.
“Who’s there?”’ she inquired as she slowly turned around. Peer-
ing through the black, latticework door, she saw a girl standing
in a corner of the bright kitchen.
“Who are you?” asked Hana gently, smiling as she rose to her
feet. She knew immediately that it was the girl Kosaku had en-
gaged as a maid.
The girl looked timidly into Hana’s eyes and bowed politely.
There was nothing particularly striking about her eyes or nose,
though she was petite and fair-complexioned. Hana wondered
if the girl was totally lacking in manners.
“Are you the maid from the city?”
The girl nodded.
“I have come from the main house. Is your master in? Do you
know where he is?” asked Hana in an attempt to get the young
girl, who remained speechless, to respond.
“Will he be back soon? I should like to wait for him. Please
make me some tea and fetch me a cushion,” Hana said. She
thereupon entered the house. The girl was back ina moment with
a cushion, then withdrew to prepare some tea. Hana examined
the girl carefully when she returned to serve the tea and realized
that she was very young indeed.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“In what section of Wakayama City did you live?”
“Bokuhan-machi.”
“Oh? Whereabouts in Bokuhan-machi? I lived nearby in
Fuku-machi for six years.”
Wakayama City was made up of four afHuent sections: they
were, from east to west, Suruga-machi, Fuku-machi, Bokuhan-
machi, and Yoriai-machi. When Hana was a schoolgirl, she had
lived with Toyono and Masataka in a detached cottage belonging
to a prosperous cosmetics dealer in Fuku-machi. Hana was there-
fore immediately drawn to this girl from the city, from those four
districts where wholesalers and merchants with huge storehouses
did business alongside modest sash makers, pharmacists, and
confectioners. The girl too seemed more at ease with Hana, who
remembered nostalgically the city streets, and answered readily
whenever she was asked a question.
Hana learned that the girl’s name was Ume. She was a cousin of
a friend of Kosaku whom Kosaku had known since his days in
middle school. Her father had been a small merchant in Bokuhan-
machi whose shop had shut down during the depression. Just as
they were about to find themselves homeless, they were taken in
by relatives. One day Késaku had hired her. When Hana asked
Ume if she were serving as a maid, the girl nodded. Hana was
suddenly filled with compassion for the child.
‘How long have you been living here?”
“Since the end of summer.”
“Really? No one realized that you were here until fairly re-
cently.”
“Yes, Iknow. My master gave me strict orders not to go out.
He absolutely forbade me to show my face to the residents of
Musota.””
“How cheerless it must have been for you.”
Oh, no.
Kosaku was probably very strict with Ume, for she trembled
with fear at the mere thought of her master. Living together with
a difficult man of twenty-nine was undoubtedly trying for a
young girl who had seen little of the world. Ume was wearing a
plain striped kimono. When she shrugged her shoulders, Hana
noticed that the kimono she was wearing was made for a young
girl. Hana could not help but be moved by the poor child’s plight.
After chatting with Ume for a while, Hana began to wonder
once again where Kosaku might be. Just as she was thinking of
leaving, he returned home. His clogs had not made a sound in the
garden and he had opened the front door without a noise. The
clogs in front of the stepping stone told him that he had a guest.
“So you came in while I was out, did you?” he asked gruffly.
“Tm sorry. I was going to return home, but Ume seemed so
lonely I chatted with her about the city,” said Hana. She then
handed him the basket of eggs, handling it with great care.
“White eggshells may be fashionable these days, but I doubt
the eggs have much nutritional value. Tell Keisaku they have
very little taste,” he said, again in a begrudging tone.
Nevertheless, he did not seem altogether displeased that Hana
had come to visit him. When she complimented him on his home,
he got up and showed her the various rooms.
The entrance, kitchen, and sitting room were in the sturdy
farmhouse style, but his private living room and parlor were
elegantly designed. What surprised Hana most was the detached
tea ceremony hut with a tiny kitchen. A corridor connected it to
the main house. It faced north and was located at the back of the
house so that the rooms were darker.
“What a splendid room!” exclaimed Hana.
She bowed slightly before viewing the hanging picture scroll
and censers, then sighed. Here was actual proof that Kosaku had
removed a number of antiques from the Matani storehouse. Even
after six years of marriage, Hana had not yet been allowed to
examine the family storehouse. It was ridiculous that she should
suddenly come across those objects in the possession of the
branch family. She had been married into the family and was yet
to be regarded as a real member.
““Ume, serve us some tea.”
LY sie
“You'll find some bean jelly on the shelf above the chest in the
adjoining room. Cut a few slices for us.”
meesta
Ume jumped to obey Kosaku’s every command. In the past,
even Hana had been rendered completely helpless by her brother-
in-law on several occasions. She therefore felt very sorry for Ume,
 Soe 75 Soh :

who at a tender age had to put up with such a difficult master. As

the mistress of the Matani family, Hana felt that it was her duty to
provide the girl with better kimonos.

“You know very well I have a weak stomach, so why are the
slices so thick? And another thing, does one serve coarse tea with
bean jelly?”
Nese *
“Don’t ‘Yes’ me. What are you going to do about it?”
eons Ves.?
No longer able to look on with indifference, Hana rose to her
feet to prepare some fine tea.
“Please don’t interfere when I am trying to discipline the girl.
Small though it may be, this place is my castle,” said Kosaku.
Hana was therefore unable to lift a finger.
Kosaku continued to grumble about one thing or another.
Finally, unable to stand it any longer, Hana sat up, bowed, and
hurriedly excused herself. She could have remained longer, as her
husband was away with officials of the local government on an
overnight trip to Osaka. However, she felt far too uncomfortable
to stay any longer.
“Allow me to come again,” she said very politely.
“Please take the tea ceremony scarf with you. I’ve nothing I can
offer you in return for it,” said Kosaku. A compulsion to be
sarcastic was ingrained in his personality.
Hana made her way outside, where twilight shadows had fallen,
heaving a deep sigh of relief. She was wet with perspiration. The
kerchief she had slipped into her breast fold felt bulky. She was
about to slip it into her sleeve when she felt in the lining of the
sleeve the shell of the egg she had eaten at Kdsaku’s house. Hana
removed the crushed eggshell, the fragments of which were still
held together by the membrane. Deciding it was better not to toss
it into the rice fields, she waited till she reached a bridge spanning
a stream which flowed from the pond and threw it into the water.
The white eggshell bobbed along slowly, turning again and again,
before it finally caught on some small pebbles in the shallow
waters. Hana stared at the eggshell and was overcome with shame
at the thought of Ume having seen her swallow the raw egg in
such a rough-and-ready way.
Hana’s breasts felt swollen. Suddenly reminded of Fumio who
was waiting for her at home, she loosened the front of her
sash which was pressing uncomfortably against her breasts and
quickened her pace.

On October ro, when the end of the war seemed far away, an
imperial proclamation was announced enjoining everyone to
persevere. On October 30, it was reported in large print even in
the Wakayama newspaper that the Keid-Waseda baseball tourna-
ment had been a thrilling affair.
“Look. The days of the Normal School are gone for good. It’s
three cheers for Waseda now!” cried Keisaku excitedly.
Hana knew much about traditional culture and international
affairs but absolutely nothing about baseball. However, it was clear
to her at least that her husband was ecstatic over the victory of his
alma mater, once known as Tokyo Normal School but now called
Waseda University. After Ito Hirobumi was appointed head of
the Privy Council, Saionji Kimmochi became leader of the
Seiyikai. Hana now had serious doubts as to the strength of
Keisaku’s antibureaucratic convictions. Keisaku liked to think of
himself as a tolerant man, one not taken to acts of rebellion. The
vehemence of his brother’s feelings against bureaucrats was
anathema to Keisaku.
Hana told her husband about her visit to Kosaku’s new house.
“That was thoughtful of you. I feel sorry for the poor girl, but
I trust you asked her to stay on,” Keisaku said. ““You know, Hana,
Osaka is enjoying great prosperity, thanks to the war. The city
has undergone a remarkable change. I’m afraid a person who gets
too deeply involved with the affairs of Wakayama will be left
behind. All the latest things are displayed in the stores. I bought a
 Soe WG) Soe ,

few presents. Just look at the things I have here.”

Keisaku untied a parcel and took out the objects one by one. He
was as delighted with them as a child with new toys.
“This is what they call aluminum.”
“Really? Isn’t it pretty?”
“Hold it in your hand for a minute. It’s extraordinarily light.”
“Tt really is. I can’t believe it’s as strong as they say it is.”
This was the first time Hana had actually seen aluminum,
though she had read in the paper about the discovery of this syn-
thetic metal and how it had already appeared on the market.
Taking it in her hand, she expressed astonishment in order to
please her husband. She compared the two brothers in her mind:
Keisaku watched the world change at first hand, just as he was
doing now; Kosaku, ensconced in his home, only read about the
changes.

At the end of the year Admiral Togo and Vice-Admiral Uemu-

ra returned home in triumph. Port Arthur surrendered on New
Year’s Day of 1905. This marked the turning point of the war.
Carrying two-year-old Fumio in her arms, Hana made her way
to Yaito Shrine, which was dedicated to their clan deity. Keisaku,
who had accompanied them, listened to the drums of the Mikawa
strolling dancers.
“It’s the Western New Year we celebrate now. Now at last, the
whole ofJapan follows the Western calendar. Seiichir6, Japan will
be so changed when you're big. How I'd love to be around then!”
Keisaku exclaimed in a buoyant mood.
Seiichird, now six years old, strained his ears to hear the drum-
mers.
“They’re in Yagaito. Father, may I go to see them?”
“Yes, off you go. Run along.”
Hana smiled as her son ran off, full of the energy of a young
boy. She and Keisaku strolled leisurely to their home in Agenogai-
to. Fumio was dressed in a colorful silk kimono which appeared
very bright against Hana’s breast.
 “‘She’s fast asleep.”
“How different she is when she cries!”
When Fumio cried she could be heard as far away as Hinokuchi.
Hana had visited the shrine of the guardian deity of children in
Sonobe and had walked around its precincts a hundred times
praying as she walked according to a prescribed ritual. However,
her efforts had been-in vain. Fumio still cried so loudly the entire
household felt like pressing their hands to their ears. Once she
started crying, moreover, it seemed as though she would never
stop. Seiichirs had been quiet as a baby and even now was far
from strong-willed. Hana watched him playing with the children
in the neighborhood, thinking it highly unlikely that he would
ever become a bully. But whenever Fumio started crying, her
grandmother Yasu would rub her eyes and worry that the child
would grow up to be very headstrong.
“Welcome home.” Yasu greeted her son and daughter-in-law.
“We also said a prayer for you.”
“Thank you. You must be exhausted. I kept an eye on the time
and toasted some rice cakes.”
Yasu’s eyesight was slowly failing. Even during the day, she
could no longer see clearly and therefore did everything by in-
stinct. She had groped about to put the grill on the brazier and
toast the rice cakes for her daughter-in-law and grandchildren.
One variety was cut into triangular pieces. Another, the fuku-
mochi, was round and had red beans pounded into it. These two
kinds of toasted rice cake had been dipped in soy sauce while
piping hot; but even as Hana enjoyed eating them, she worried
about Yasu’s eyes.
“They're delicious! I'll go and pray at Daido-ji after I finish
my share.”
“For my eyes? I’ve visited the temple three years running and
there’s no sign at all of improvement. Don’t bother about me
any more.”
“But it’s the New Year. Surely the god of healing will try a
little harder. I'll go in your place.”
 Hana left Fumio, who was now wide awake, in Kiyo’s care.
After greeting the tenant farmers who had come to extend their
New Year's greetings, she set out for Daido-ji Temple. She
slipped into her clogs and was hurrying through the garden when
she heard the sound of a child crying. Wondering what could be
the matter, she looked in the direction of the gate and saw her son.
Surrounded by several children, he had covered his face with his
hands.
“What in the world happened?” she asked. Seiichird was weep-
ing so hard she could not get a word out of him. The other
children told her why he was crying. They had begun to tease
the strolling dancers whom they had been following. One of the
dancers was so provoked he shouted angrily and began to chase
them. Seiichird being a slow runner, the dancer had caught him
and hit him on the head with his fan.
Seiichird, the Matani heir, had been protected by his family
all his life. His parents had never had to raise a hand against him,
for he had always been an obedient child. It had therefore come
as a terrible shock for him to be struck on the head by a strolling
dancer. Hana, feeling that her pride had been deeply wounded,
remained speechless for a moment. She did nothing to soothe
Seiichird, who would not stop crying. On the contrary, she felt
a sudden chill in her heart as she watched her eldest son, who
had none of Fumio’s vitality, wailing in such a wretched manner.
Was it normal for a boy to cry like this? What a depressing sight
to behold on New Year’s Day, she thought, as she set out for the
temple.
The votive tablet which Yasu had hung from the lattice in front
of the Main Hall of Daido-ji three years earlier looked old and
weather-beaten. It was generally believed that if one painted eyes
on it, it would be efficacious in curing ailments of the eye. Yasu
had lost her husband. One of her sons was married and the other,
the head of a branch family. Practically blind at the age of
seventy-one, she must have felt very lonely indeed when she
brought her hands together in prayer. Toyono had grown old
enjoying the best of health; moreover, her death had been
painless and sudden. Hana tried to imagine what the last years
of her grandmother—who had said what she wanted to say and
done what she wanted to do—had been like. In striking contrast,
her mother-in-law’s last years, though peaceful and not lacking
in material comfort, seemed sad indeed.
The strolling dancers had probably reached Sonobe by now,
for the drums could no longer be heard. On her way home, Hana
thought of calling at Shin’ike. However, her husband would con-
sider it a breach of etiquette if she, the mistress of the main family,
were to go to Kosaku’s house before he came to extend his for-
mal New Year’s greetings. Looking to the west as she descended
the stone steps, she noticed a man and a woman coming from
the direction of Shin’ike. She could see that it was Kosaku and
Ume.
That Kosaku would even think of visiting the Matanis on New
Year’s Day accompanied by his maid showed a total lack of com-
mon sense on his part. Staring incomprehensibly at the couple,
Hana stood stock still for what seemed an age. Kosaku walked
ahead, then turned back to say something to Ume who timidly
responded. Presently the couple moved forward again as though
nothing had happened. After a while, Kosaku again came to a
stop to speak to Ume, apparently to scold her for being so slow.
Ume looked miniscule as she followed behind her tall, thin
master. She all but ran after him but still found it difficult to keep
up. Again Kosaku turned back.
Hana remained rooted to the deserted pathway until the two
figures disappeared from view. Her intuition told her at once that
the relationship between the two was as intimate as Keisaku feared
it was. She felt her heart grow numb, though this revelation
should no longer have caused her any surprise. Hana had uncon-
sciously sensed the true nature of their relationship when she first
visited her brother-in-law.
Kosaku was not among those who greeted Hana upon her re-
turn home.
 “Has Kosaku already left?” she asked. She was then informed
by her maids that he had not yet made an appearance. Hana
wondered where the two had gone. They ought to have arrived
before her. Had they postponed their New Year’s greetings and
set out for the city? Hana was pondering these thoughts when
Kosaku alone entered the house.
“Happy New Year!”
“Is that you, Kosaku? We’ve been waiting for you. Hana, pour
him some saké.”’
Keisaku was in an ebullient mood, eager to celebrate fully the
first New Year’s Day since the establishment of the branch family.
Kosaku meekly took up the saké cup as Hana, barely able to con-
trol her trembling hands, poured the saké.
“Stay with us until the third. It'll be dreary spending the
New Year all alone.”
“To tell the truth, I’ve never cared for the New Year. Like you,
I can’t drink. And I have no place in particular to visit. And by
the end of the year I’ve had my fill of rice cakes. And anyway,
it makes little difference to me whether I’m alone or in a crowd,
I think New Year celebrations are a terrible bore!”
“You really do speak your mind, don’t you?”
Keisaku laughed, highly amused by his brother’s crankiness.
When they had lived together, it had often annoyed Keisaku to
see his brother’s sullen face. However, now that they lived in
separate households, Keisaku was happy to greet the New Year
in Kosaku’s company.
“T think I'll stay for a few days, after all.”
“Please do,” said Hana graciously.
“Would you like to toast some rice-cake blossoms, Uncle?”
asked Seiichird. Delighted to see his uncle, he had been hovering
nearby. It was strange that Kosaku, ostracized by adults, should
be adored by children.
“If you take down all the rice-cake blossoms on New Year’s
Day, the next few days will seem so colorless.”
“But one branch wouldn’t do any harm, would it?”
 “I suppose no one will miss a single branch,” said K6saku.
Surely the fact that he could speak in such an easygoing manner
to a child was a sign there was something more to him.
The ‘“‘blossoms’”’ were pieces of rice cake which were suspended
like cocoons from willow branches. They were pink or yellow
in color and were used to decorate the house over the New Year.
Children would eye the tempting morsels hanging from the door-
way of each room. They were put up as decoration, and so par-
ents generally forbade the children from taking them down
during the first seven days of the New Year. Child though he
was, Seiichir6 knew that no adult in the household would dare
oppose his uncle’s wishes. Keisaku narrowed his eyes and looked
fondly at his son who licked the rice cakes hanging from the
branch. He was convinced that his son would grow up to be a
man of great wisdom. On the other hand, Hana felt apprehensive
about her son who would not chew the rice cakes properly. A
typical boy would even chew glutinous jelly with gusto.
A stream of visitors flowed in and out of the house. Besides the
tenant farmers, many villagers had been coming regularly for
many years to call on Keisaku. Having heard rumors that he
would soon be running for a prefectural office, the village elders
came to pay their respects. Things were especially lively because
the members of the Young Men’s Association were drunk and
rowdy. Keisaku was all smiles as he offered saké to one and all,
sending them home thoroughly drunk.
Hana got up now and then to see that everything was in order.
After greeting her guests, she withdrew to the adjoining eight-
mat room. There she joined Yasu and Kosaku, who were seated
around a big porcelain brazier, and listened to Kosaku.
“You shouldn’t always wear your hair in an old-fashioned
chignon. How about trying a more fashionable coiffure?”’
“Keisaku tells me to do the same thing. Saki also urges me to
try a new hairdo on her once-a-month visits. But personally,
I feel rather embarrassed about experimenting with something
9
new.
 ae OB) 22%

Blinking her eyes with which she could hardly see, Yasu re-
marked:
“The Kagetsumaki hairstyle seems to be very popular these
days.”
“Mother, that’s an extremely vulgar hairstyle!”
“Ts it really?”
“Indeed it is. It became popular among the maids serving in
the houses of assignation, so how could it possibly be elegant?
It’s best to do one’s hair up in a stylish chignon. The next time
Saki comes, have her do your hair up in a new style.”
“Tl think about it.”
Hana chatted amiably with them, but she was still thinking
about Ume, whom she had seen with Kosaku a short while ago.
She had no particular reason to mention Ume but could no longer
suppress her curiosity.
“If you're going to stay for a few days, you should have
brought Ume along.”
“Whatever for?’ asked Kosaku indignantly.
“For no special reason. I just thought she’d be lonesome by
herself over the New Year, that’s all. She’d find it more fun to be
with the maids,” she explained quickly. But it was already too
late. Kosaku had become very glum.
“A maid’s duty is to look after the home. I refuse to take orders
from the lady of the house on such private matters.”
Hana apologized and Yasu interceded, but nothing could keep
Kosaku from stalking out of the house. Kcisaku later heard about
the incident and was filled with disgust. He could not blithely
dismiss the matter with a laugh, saying that his brother was as
difficult as ever. Yasu sighed again and again, muttering that her
son would never be cured of his willfullness.
Hana now had definite proof that Kosaku was in love with
Ume. Nevertheless, she knew that he would never admit that
he loved the young girl he had brought into his house as a maid.
Now that she knew Kosaku and Ume were on intimate terms,
Hana tried to cure herself of her own infatuation. The shame she
now felt as she remembered having once been strongly attracted
to Kosaku was as great as the shame she had experienced after
being seen by Ume helping herself to a raw egg. But Hana’s
pride had not been wounded, for she had been the first to detect
the true nature of the relationship between Kosaku and the
girl, possibly even before Kosaku himself.
This past summer when she visited Shin’ike, Hana had noticed
that Ume’s eyebrows were growing thin, a supposed sign of
pregnancy. She now reported this to her husband. Hana had
mulled over the situation for a long time. However, feeling guilty
about trying to drive Ume away from Kosaku’s side, she felt
unable to consult anyone, even Yasu.
“Are you sure about this?” Keisaku was completely stunned.
Much to Hana’s astonishment, he lost his composure altogether.
“One can’t be absolutely sure without asking Kosaku himself,
but I’m reasonably certain.”
“What has he gone and done now? It’ll be a scandal once it’s
known in the village. Send Ume home at once. Then we'll dis-
cuss what’s to be done.”
“If you send her home, everyone will hear about it. It’s just a
matter of whether they find out now or later, that’s all.”
“You really are cool-headed. If Kosaku has got the girl preg-
nant, I’ll have to seriously consider resigning as village headman
and forget about entering politics.”
Keisaku was indeed speaking the truth. In exchange for wielding
absolute power, the héad of a family had to bear on his shoulders
the responsibility for the conduct of each member. Keisaku’s
reputation would be completely ruined by any indiscretion on
Kosaku’s part. His dreams of the future were about to be dashed.
“T'll dole out any sum of money. Please find a solution.”
“Then people will say that you paid to have the child aborted.”
““We mustn’t endanger the mother’s life. Let her have the baby.
I'll pay to have the child given away.”
“Ume’s parents are dead. Her relatives will never be satisfied,
no matter how much money you hand over.”
 Keisaku studied his wife’s face and saw that she had a plan in
mind.
“What do you suggest we do?”
“Ume’s family isn’t wealthy, but the match is not entirely out
of the question.
“Yes. And so?”
“Kosaku’s personality being what it is, no other girl will put up
with him. I suggest that we formally welcome Ume into the
family as his bride.”
“People will talk, regardless of what I do. They'll say that
Kosaku seduced his maid and had to marry her.”
“But nobody will say that Keisaku did anything cruel.”
Keisaku folded his arms. He was not thinking about whether or
not he should go along with Hana’s suggestion. It was obvious
that she had taken into consideration the well-being of all three
people most intimately involved: Kosaku, Ume, and himself.
Several days later, Keisaku set out for Shin’ike and returned late
that night with Ume. Kiyo made her way to Shin’ike the next
day to take Ume’s place as a maid; she was to serve in that capacity
until autumn. In the meantime, Ume was to receive training in
etiquette and home-making.
Hana went to Wakayama City to make arrangements for
Ume’s bridal kimonos at a shop in Yonchd-machi. Needless to
say, the kimonos could not be elaborate because it was a rush
job. However, Hana did her best to be more extravagant than she
would have been for an ordinary maid. The baby was expected
within three months of the wedding; therefore, all preparations
had to be informal.
Hana was planning to wear at the ceremony a kimono with
medium-length sleeves. When she sent out Ume’s kimonos to be
dyed, she boldly changed the crests to an ivy motif, as she had
never been happy with the Matani quince crest. She recalled
that Toyono, who had not cared for the Kimoto crest, had
selected for herself the ivy crest. From ancient times, the ivy which
grew around its own central stem symbolized positive feminine
characteristics. Hana felt that she had every right to change the
crest in this apparently arbitrary way. She was too pressed for
time to think deeply about Toyono’s reasons for selecting the
ivy crest, but it did occur to her that Toyono’s mother’s family
had also had an ivy crest, although of slightly different design.
Or was it that her great-grandmother had not wanted to use the
crest of her husband’s family and had therefore designed her own?
How Hana enjoyed imagining what things were like back in the
distant past.
Hana had one of Ume’s wedding kimonos dyed with the quince
crest, since she desired above all to avoid being criticized by her
brother-in-law. In the meantime, she thought about an appro-
priate crest for Ume to use regularly after her wedding. Hana,
who was twenty-eight, worked enthusiastically on the wedding
preparations for Ume, who was ten years younger. She enjoyed
immensely every minute, as though she were the girl’s mother.
In time she began to feel kindly toward Kosaku and treated him
with special care.
Kosaku stopped visiting Agenogaito altogether after Ume was
taken into the Matani household. He was extremely sullen when
Hana made her way to Shin’ike to discuss with him some matter
involving Ume’s relatives. The dark expression on his face showed
that he was not at all sorry to have caused all the fuss. In fact, he
was very much displeased that Hana had not minded her own
business. Furthermore, he refused to answer Hana civilly, turning
angry eyes upon her more openly than during the first years of
her marriage. And when Seiichird went to visit his uncle, he was
coldly turned away.
The whole village was in a furor. Keisaku therefore postponed
running for a prefectural office and spent each day brooding over
his disappointment, especially after hearing that Hana’s brother
was running for an office in Ito County. But this didn’t seem to
bother Kosaku. He remained idle at home, doing nothing when
he felt too agitated to read.
The two brothers were miserable indeed. Hana, however,
looked forward eagerly to the wedding. Just as she had predicted,
Keisaku’s reputation had not been hurt in the least. On the con-
trary, everyone sympathized with him, for he had voluntarily
withdrawn from the political race. Nor was Kosaku’s reputation,
which was not good to begin with, further damaged.
No one expected Kosaku’s bride to be so ordinary, but the
villagers extended their goodwill to the girl when they heard
that Hana was treating her kindly. In short, everything turned
out well because of Hana’s efforts.
“Even though you find it difficult at times, don’t forget what
they say about cleaning the toilet. You want to have a pretty child,
don’t you?”
“Yes. I'll do my best.”
“And after your wedding, be sure to wear your kimono a little
longer. As the mistress of the branch family, you must be refined.”
“Oh, but no one will call me ‘Mistress’!”
“All right, then, you can go on being called the Shin’ike Bride
until you’re old and gray.”
“That won’t do!”
The two women laughed merrily.
SPART
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 nn
.

Va MP
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28

— :
| THE Girt had her head covered with a long white
' woolen shawl twisted loosely around her neck, one
|end falling forward and the other trailing in the wind.
Her green cashmere hakama skirt appeared somewhat
~---——-.4J strange; two white stripes ran around the hemline.
Over a dress of handwoven striped cotton, she was wearing
a silk haori. Her stockinged feet were visible under the short
hakama. It was clear to see that she was a student at Wakayama
Girls’ School. No one could help but stare on seeing her for the
first time, striding boyishly across the bridge. Dressed as she was,
however, Fumio would not have startled anyone living in this area.
The eldest Matani daughter had been an attraction in the village
for years. After entering the Girls’ School, she, together with her
father, had become increasingly famous.
“That’s the eldest daughter,” whispered the villagers. Some-
times they were critical of the girl, at other times they could do
little else but express their bewilderment.
Fumio did not care what people said about her. In fact, she
reveled in making people frown. This had certainly been true
when she had protested against the practice of wearing maroon
hakamas. A classmate, imitating the members of the famous
Takarazuka All-Girls’ Revue, had once worn a green hakama to
school only to be severely reprimanded by the teachers. Fumio
had rebelled against the teachers, arguing that, “Nowhere in the
school regulations does it say that we have to wear maroon
hakamas.”” She then encouraged her classmates to join her in
wearing green hakamas. At this very moment, there was further
proof of her rebelliousness. Dangling from the white trimming of
her bright green hakama, which she had been wearing for the
past year oblivious to all opposition, were twenty Kewpie dolls,
each one over an inch tall. She would probably have maintained
that, “Nowhere in the school regulations does it say that we
cannot wear Kewpie dolls.”” With typical audacity, Fumio had
begun this new protest after a classmate had been reprimanded
for pinning fashionable trinkets onto the trimming of her hakama.
 Fumio strode on, unconcerned by the dust gathering on her
black shoes and mercilessly kicking the hem of her hakama with
each step she took. The little Kewpie dolls danced merrily about
and rolled their eyes as she crossed Musota Bridge. Under the
bridge the blue waters of the River Ki flowed gently as in years
gone by.
At the beginning of the Taisho era, the sobriquet of Musota
Bridge was changed from One-Rin Bridge to One-Sen Bridge
in line with the higher toll. Each time the river overflowed its
banks, the bridge was swept away. No sooner was it rebuilt than
the men involved would celebrate its completion with a banquet.
It was therefore whispered that a new bridge meant another
feast for the members of the Prefectural House.
The abundant waters of the River Ki, which was known nearer
its source, in Yamato province, as the River Yoshino, flowed to
the sea from east to west, taking with them the waters of both
Yamato and Ki provinces. The villages along the river’s banks
were in danger of being flooded whenever the waters rose.
However, in all of KaisO County, Musota had always been an
exception. There had never been any landslide near the moun-
tains nor any flood damage along the banks of the river. The
residents of Musota had therefore never been too concerned about
natural calamities. And if the bridge were swept away by flood
waters, no one in the village was so poor he would suffer from
giving a hand to help in rebuilding the bridge.
Since Musota Dam in the northwestern sector of Kaiso County
was used for irrigation purposes, there was no danger of a flood
even if the dams at Musota and Sonobe were breached. Further-
more, Keisaku’s grandfather had worked diligently to ensure
that nearly all the rice paddies could draw their water from the
ponds at the foot of the mountains.
Not even during the Great Drought mentioned in the history of
Ki province had Musota sustained any damage.
Upon being elected a member of the Prefectural House in 1906,
Keisaku had strongly urged that the rice paddies along the Ki
draw their water from the river. He sincerely believed that if his
plan were implemented, the damage to the villages on the lower
reaches of the river would be greatly reduced in a flood. His
wife had often voiced her opinion regarding the flood damage
sustained by Iwade, saying “Isn’t it because the abundant waters
of the Ki aren’t made full use of?” That Hana’s words had been
behind Keisaku’s plan, however, was not known to a soul.
Keisaku set up plans for the rice paddies in Isao Village to draw
their water from Iwade Dam and went as far as to invest his own
money to cover half of the project’s cost. To obtain the money
for his contribution, he sold part of his rice land. This act of
magnanimity made it possible for the irrigation works in Waka-
yama Prefecture to flourish. For years the Land Improvement
Association and Ki River Water Utilization Association had ex-
isted in name only, but they effected noteworthy changes now
that Keisaku was a member of the board of directors.
Keisaku’s fame grew after each flood. It is said that people
will follow a leader who is sincere. No one opposed the choice of
thirty-eight-year-old Keisaku as the Speaker of the House. His
boundless capacity for work, his generosity in using his own
money, and his sincerity inspired admiration among his constit-
uents. This year his eldest daughter was about to graduate from
school and he had already served as Speaker of the House for over
ten years. The titles he held were too numerous to be printed on a
single name card. To begin with, he was chairman of the board
of directors of the Water Utilization Association and chairman
of the Prefectural Agricultural Association. Even in the remotest
mountain village of Wakayama Prefecture, everyone knew of
Matani Keisaku.
Reports of Fumio’s wild behavior were circulated all the more
widely because of her father’s fame. The young girl, who had
inherited many of her father’s characteristics, was neither hated
nor resented by anyone. She had her father’s panache, which won
her a certain amount of admiration, but she was considered a
auisance by many. On one occasion Fumio’s behavior reached a
point where her mother was summoned to school by Fumio’s
teachers.
“We are fully conscious of the fact that she is Mr. Matani’s
daughter and find ourselves unable to reprimand her in front of
the other students. However, when we summon her privately
into the Teachers’ Room to give her a word of warning, she
overwhelms us with a flood of words. So we'd like you, please,
to try to reason with her.”
Having found it difficult to deal directly with Fumio, the
teachers now beseeched the girl’s mother to take over.
“T am truly sorry that she has caused you so much trouble.
By the way,” Hana added, “do you think that Fumio is a flirt?
That possibility worries me above all else.”
“No,” one of the teachers answered. “She doesn’t write notes
to boys at the Middle School; she doesn’t seem interested in
the opposite sex at all. I once happened to overhear her speak-
ing to her friends. If anything, she is too prim. Despite the fact
that she wears green hakamas, she said that she had once seen a
performance of the Takarazuka All-Girls’ Revue and thought it
was positively ridiculous. I may be exaggerating, but what I
consider dangerous is her thinking. I suppose she has been greatly
influenced by Mr. Tamura, for even now she’s always talking
about ‘democracy’.”
“She really did cause a great deal of trouble at that time,
didn’t she?” Hana again expressed her deepest apologies.
Mr. Tamura was a.young Japanese-language teacher who had
come to his new post in Wakayama when Fumio first enrolled
in the school. A recent graduate of the Faculty of Letters of Tokyo
Imperial University, he set aside the textbooks during his classes
and expounded upon “freedom” and “democracy.’” Whenever
he opened the poetry journal Red Bird he read aloud the new-
style poems and enthusiastically encouraged Fumio and her class-
mates to be modern in every respect. Wakayama Girls’ School,
whose motto was “Be Good Wives and Wise Mothers,” found
the presence of such a teacher extremely embarrassing. Despite
his popularity among his students, Mr. Tamura was harshly rep-
rimanded on numerous occasions by the administration. Per-
secuted by his superiors, he was finally expelled from the teaching
profession. This had been the “‘incident’’ of the previous year.
Fumio had been so enraged she rallied together the girls who sup-
ported Mr. Tamura and argued with the school administration.
Girls of Ki province were by no means weak, but, having been
carefully brought up in a mild climate, they were not known for
their indomitable fighting spirit. The girls enrolled in Fumio’s
school were no exception, and, when the situation became too
troublesome, they deserted the cause. Fumio had fought in vain,
for in the end her cohorts deserted her and Mr. Tamura drifted
aimlessly back to Tokyo like a kite whose string had snapped.
Fumio was guilty of organizing the girls in a protest. If she had
been an ordinary student, she would certainly not have been
pardoned so readily. Nonetheless, her father was president of the
Parents’ Association of the school. Moreover, the school principal
had obtained his post through Keisaku’s recommendation. Fear-
ing above all the effects on Keisaku’s standing, the school hushed
the matter up and Fumio narrowly escaped being suspended.
Hana continued to worry. If it were said that Fumio had been
treated leniently because she was Keisaku’s daughter, Keisaku
would lose face. Furthermore, it would be a black mark on Fumio’s
personal history and could be used against her when she was
considered for marriage. Hana had a premonition that Fumio’s
marriage would cause her considerable trouble. If it were rumored
that her daughter had been suspended from school, an arranged
marriage would be completely out of the question.
Hana had therefore made her way humbly to the homes of the
principal, the vice-principal, the homeroom teacher, and even
the teachers of home-making and physical education. There were
those among the teachers and directors who resolutely maintained
that it would be a bad precedent and against all principles of ed-
ucation for the school to take into consideration the fact that Fumio
was Matani Keisaku’s daughter. Nonetheless, they found them-
 Pee we

selves feeling sympathetic toward the girl’s mother. None of

them, however, felt they had been cajoled by her. Without taking
advantage of her authority as Keisaku’s wife, Hana bowed rever-
entially and entreated each teacher she visited to forgive Fumio
just this once, for, from then on, she would keep an eye on her
daughter to see that she never misbehaved again.
Hana was the younger sister of a member of the Prefectural
House and the wife of the Speaker of the House. In Wakayama,
official authority was regarded with utmost respect; therefore,
people felt in awe of a woman in her position. Nevertheless,
Hana’s modesty inspired admiration in one and all. On account
of her efforts the matter was quietly settled.
Neither Hana nor Keisaku reprimanded Fumio for her part
in the incident. Keisaku’s only comment was:
“If only she were a boy!” Hana listened to Keisaku’s lament and
wondered to what extent her husband was expressing his disap-
pointment in their son, who had just entered the First High School
in Tokyo. Seiichirs had maintained an outstanding academic
record while attending Wakayama Middle School but was re-
garded as being somewhat strange, a taciturn and unsociable
boy. He had none of his sister’s eloquence. It would be difficult
indeed for him to enter politics. However, Hana had observed
that once her son made up his mind about anything, he refused
to listen to anybody else’s opinion. In this respect, he was far more
clearheaded than his father. And there was reason enough not
to be disappointed that he was so unlike his sister.
Hana firmly believed that everything should revolve around
the eldest son. Never had Fumio attempted to get the better of
her brother at home. On the contrary, she had the utmost respect
for her brother’s personal character and academic ability. Hana had
noticed, however, that he had become rather conceited since going
to Tokyo. A second daughter, Kazumi, was born two years after
Fumio; Utae, the third daughter, was born two years later.
Tomokazu, the second son, was five years younger than Utae.
Fumio was adored by the younger members of the family, and
in return took good care of them. Hana could find no fault in
Fumio as the eldest daughter.
But for some reason Fumio was extremely hostile toward her
mother and always highly critical of her. At the time of Mr.
Tamura’s dismissal, Fumio was infuriated by her mother’s inter-
vention.
“Mother, why were you meddling in my affairs? I was deter-
mined to fight fair and square, even if I were expelled from
school. I would have accepted what was coming to me and fought
all my life against injustice of every kind.”
If anyone, no longer able to remain indifferent, dared to in-
terrupt, Fumio would burst into tears. “ What was wrong with
Mr. Tamura? It’s the school administration that ought to be
questioned for having dismissed him.”
Fumio would then go into a long and emotional diatribe, wind-
ing up with these words:
“Really, Mother, you’re so hopelessly old-fashioned! You’re
making yourself an enemy of all Japanese women by keeping me
in shackles. As a member of the same sex, it’s unforgivable. If
you weren’t my mother. . .”
Overcome with emotion, Fumio would let out a wail. If she
were overheard, it would hinder her chances for an arranged
marriage.
Hana had no recourse other than to supervise her daughter’s
education from behind the scenes. She was very strict about hav-
ing Fumio take lessons in the traditional arts of Japan—the tea
ceremony, flower arrangement, and the koto—which cultivated
modesty and refinement in a young girl. Fumio openly showed
her disdain for such lessons. Once Hana made up her mind about
anything, however, her daughter was forced to submit, no mat-
ter how violently she opposed the idea. When Fumio expressed
a desire to continue her education, Hana said:
“Tl allow it as long as you continue your lessons.”’
At that time, Hana did not consider the pros and cons of a
girl attending college. She insisted upon the lessons because
she felt strongly that Fumio’s training ought to be completed
while she was still at the Girls’ School. Kazumi and Utae were
unlike their sister in every way: both were of a quiet disposition
and had been taught to be modest from the time they were
little. Moreover, they worked hard at their lessons without being
forced by their mother. Utae in particular had a special talent for
music and on her own initiative took shamisen as well as koto
lessons.
“If both Fumio and Kazumi say that they don’t want your
koto, may I please have it, Mother?” Utae begged. She was only
fourteen but already very fond of musical instruments.
Utae and Fumio were poles apart. Fumio seemed to have no
desire for material goods; she never once expressed a wish for a
new kimono or a pair of shoes, let alone a koto. If no one bothered
her, she would wear the same old kimono with its sleeves coming
apart at the seams. Most of the older girls at school fluffed up
their hair to look more attractive, but for four years Fumio con-
tinued to wear her hair in the same austere fashion—parted in
the middle and tied back. After school, she participated in mock
marathon races. She also got together with girls who shared an
interest in the novel, discussing with them new trends in fiction.
By the end of the day, she was thoroughly exhausted.
“T send her out wearing a lovely kimono made to order, but
she returns home so disheveled one would think she had been in-
volved in a bloody vendetta,” Hana lamented. Many were the
times Hana grieved to see Fumio looking such a mess.

And then a change occurred. Fumio came home with her collar
as crooked as before, but from around autumn—shortly after
definite plans for her advanced studies had been agreed upon both
at home and at school—her energy grew beyond all bounds.
Thoughts of Tokyo Women’s College, an institution that had
been established in 1918, and her own private hopes filled Fumio’s
heart and set her dreaming.
“Tell be all right. Seiichird is in Tokyo. It isn’t at all a bad idea
to have both of them attending college. After all, I'll soon be
going to Tokyo regularly myself,” said Keisaku.
Keisaku agreed to let Fumio go, but Hana worried that her
daughter would grow wilder still if she were let out of sight.
“What about a school in the Kyoto area? Both Kyoto Normal
School for Girls and Higashiyama Normal School for Girls are
excellent colleges. And they both have a Home Economics
Department.”
“But Fumio won't hear of taking up home economics.”
“Yes, I know. She’s already told me so. If it has to be Tokyo,
I'd like to send her to Mejiro. The college there has a fine Home
Economics Department.”
“Hana, aren’t you being a bit too pushy, insisting upon home
economics? Remember, you yourself received an education fit
for a woman scholar.”
“But I’m terribly worried because Fumio takes no interest at all
in affairs of the home.”
Hana had given her eldest daughter the same kind of education
she herself had received and was greatly alarmed by the results.
Fumio had been instructed in reading aloud difficult Sino-Japanese
texts. Training in this skill called for the kind of intelligence
with which years earlier Toyono had impressed Hana. However,
Fumio had shown no interest whatever in cultural accomplish-
ments. Even though Hana had had Fumio help her move objects
from the storehouse to the sitting room, she had not been at all
aware that they were precious antiques nor did she feel any
remorse when she chipped or broke valuable objects. She detested
above all sewing, a required course of study from the second grade
on. In the entrance examination administered by her school, she
had drafted an entirely different kimono from the one asked of
her. While attending school, she had had all her sewing assign-
ments done by the maids and had taken the finished work to
school. Nonetheless, she was not the kind of person who would
deceive her teacher, and so she said:
“This is most distressing.”
 “What is the trouble, Miss Matani?”
“This lined kimono has been sewn far too skillfully.”
She then proceeded to rip apart the bottom seam. There was
something engaging about Fumio, even though her behavior at
times was shocking.
“She'll never be able to graduate from college if she’s forced to
major in home economics. Mr. Tamura’s influence aside, she’s
best suited for Tokyo Women’s College.”
Five girls from Wakayama planned to attend the Tokyo
Women’s College in Mejiro. Had Fumio decided to join this group,
Hana would not have worried about sending her daughter to
Tokyo. But Fumio stubbornly insisted on traveling to Tokyo
by herself. Her mother had nothing to worry about, since she
knew the five girls going to Mejiro. Hana wrote to Seiichird for
advice. His reply, written on the back of her letter, consisted of
one line: “You should consider Fumio’s wishes.”
As a member of the Kansai Seiytkai, Keisaku personally looked
after Tasaki Yusuke’s constituency. Hana was therefore re-
signed to asking Mrs. Tasaki to keep an eye on Fumio. She finally
gave her daughter permission to go to Tokyo after she promised
to continue her lessons in the traditional arts. All this was decided
in autumn.
Since then Fumio had been walking on air. In those days there
was no difficult entrance examination to study for; therefore, she
would chatter endlessly about her future life in Tokyo whenever
she found someone who would listen.
After the decision was made to send Fumio to Tokyo, her foot-
steps sounded different whenever she crossed Musota Bridge. The
schoolgirls who were concerned about their appearance tended to
wear shoes, but Fumio found wooden clogs more comfortable.
She wore them all the time except on festive occasions. Now that
she was leaving for Tokyo, however, she made a big effort to
wear shoes. The streets of the city were clean and tidy, but the
road back to Musota—the trip took about an hour on foot—
suddenly became a torment for her from the other side of the
 i AOL

bridge. In Wakayama Prefecture, where the climate was mild,

there was a ground frost at night in winter, even though it rarely
snowed. As it got warmer in the morning, the road became
muddy under the feet of schoolchildren and workers on their
way to the city. By late afternoon, the country road was covered
with a layer of slush. Fumio walked straight ahead, the heels of her
shoes kicking up mud which spattered the bottom of her hakama.
Being tall and heavy, even under ordinary circumstances she was
a striking figure. But as she strode along, swinging her arms like
a soldier marching, she could easily be recognized from a distance.
Fumio called out to a villager who passed her on the road:
“Good day, Shige.”
“Oh, you're back. A little early, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Bye now.”
Fumio walked on after this brief conversation.
“She’s a fine young lady, but her mother must be terribly
worried about her. Isn’t she a bit too lively for a girl?”
“She does everything a boy does—climbs trees, goes fishing,
plays war games. I often wondered what would happen when
she came of age. She hasn’t changed at all.”
“Theard that once someone came from Yamato with a marriage
proposal. When he was informed that the eldest Matani daughter
was fishing by the canal, he was surprised that she was still such a
child and returned home.”
Fumio gave no indication that she had overheard their conver-
sation as she continued north along the road without slowing her
pace. Presently she entered the gate of the Matani mansion, which
was enclosed by a thick earthen wall. The gate was even more
imposing than the temple gate of Daid6-ji; its thick black wooden
frame contrasted sharply with the white, freshly painted walls.
The main gate had been left open. There was a building on the
right and the men’s quarters on the left, in front of which there
always seemed to be a cluster of old men. These “lifetime em-
ployees,” formerly tenant farmers, had for some reason or other
cemained bachelors. They led a relatively carefree life working
 ee
1) ae

on Matani land and being hired out to people in sudden need of

extra hands.
The road led right up to the garden. On the right was the
persimmon tree and on the left, a wall enclosing the garden out-
side the inner drawing room. Fumio skirted the wall, arriving at
the entrance.
“I’m back.”
Inside, the house was dark. She closed the door behind her.
Her mother’s voice could be heard from the room at the end
of the corridor.
“Ts that you, Fumio?”
Making her way to her room on the second floor, Fumio set
her things down and took off her hakama. After quickly changing
from socks to tabis, she went downstairs. Every member of the
Matani family was expected to announce his comings and
goings. It was necessary for Fumio to appear before her mother,
press her hands to the floor, and formally report her return.
As she had expected, she found her mother applying lacquer to
Yasu’s teeth. Hana looked at her daughter.
“Welcome home. You're a little early, aren’t you? Didn’t you
have a lesson with Miss Matsuyama today?”
“Miss Matsuyama has a cold, so she canceled today’s lesson.”
In fact, Fumio had come straight home without going to her
tea ceremony lesson. She felt no compunction at all about lying
to her mother.
“Really?” asked Hana in a suspicious tone.
Fumio began to feel very uncomfortable, for a slip of the
tongue would get her into further difficulty. The only other al-
ternative was to disappear, as it was almost impossible to deceive
her mother, who knew her through and through. Completely
at a loss what to do, she was unable to move.
The maids were preparing dinner outside by the well, and
the fire had not yet been started in the kitchen stove. At this busy
time of day, Yasu would say:
“Hana, please lacquer my teeth.”
 oO aa

“Yes, Mother.”
Hana never failed to answer her mother-in-law. Laying aside
whatever she was doing, she would start a charcoal fire in the
portable cooking stove. Transferring the red-hot coals to the bra-
zier, over which she threw some ashes, she placed an unglazed
piece of pottery containing lacquer over the low flame. She then
slowly melted the lacquer, which she applied to Yasu’s teeth with
a brush held in her right hand. Her left hand was placed on Yasu’s
lower jaw to keep it steady. The so-called daidokoro where she
performed this task was not the room in which the meals were
prepared. In this part of the country, the daidokoro was sitting
room not kitchen. The Matani daidokoro was a smallish room in
the middle of which the two women were sitting down facing
each other. This domestic scene had an air of coldness about it
which might in part have been due to the fact that Yasu, who
would be celebrating her eighty-eighth birthday the following
year, was totally blind. Yasu had never been vain about her looks,
but she insisted on being neat and tidy as she grew old. Hana had
rarely seen her mother-in-law lacquer her teeth in anyone’s
presence when she first came as a bride. Once in a while she had
noticed that the lacquer applied to Yasu’s front teeth had begun to
wear off, thus exposing the white enamel; however, she had been
unable to draw Yasu’s attention to it. For her part, Yasu had al-
ways felt constrained in the presence of her daughter-in-law, but
after losing her eyesight, she began to take advantage of Hana’s
kindness.
“Hana, please see if there are any stains on this kimono.”
“Hana, the rim of my tea bowl is chipped. Please get me a
new one in town.”
“Hana I'd like to take a little walk in the garden. Please join
me.
If she dropped her chopsticks, it would invariably be Hana she
called, and if a maid picked them up for her, the maid would be
harshly rebuked. Those who had known Yasu as a good-natured
and meek woman were bewildered by this dramatic change in
 a LOAer

her personality. Hana never showed any sign of irritation and

cheerfully carried out Yasu’s requests. She felt that the least she
could do was to take good care of the old woman, who, having
lost her place as the mistress of the family, no longer wielded
any real power.
As Keisaku’s responsibilities became increasingly onerous, his
wife’s assistance became indispensable. Whenever a constituent
was locked up in a police cell in Isao Village or Wakayama City,
his relatives would come pleading to Keisaku’s home. Hana would
then set out in her husband’s place to arrange for the prisoner’s
release. Being highly accomplished and of an unimpeachable
character, her dignity and quick thinking made her much more
than an ordinary housewife. Furthermore, she had a large family
of two boys and three girls. Keisaku’s duties kept him away from
home much of the time, and so Hana had to take full responsibility
for the children’s education. She also saw to it that the houseboys
and maids performed their duties. Furthermore, she acted as a
mediator in disputes involving the tenant farmers and comforted
them in times of sorrow.
Yet here was Yasu summoning Hana in the midst of her hectic
schedule to ask favors of her. Had Yasu been able to see, she
would certainly have hesitated. Fumio was highly critical of her
mother.
“It’s entirely your fault, Mother. You keep doing everything
Grandmother asks you to. You're spoiling her far too much.
She takes advantage of you because she’s blind. You’re so bound
up with the idea that a woman should be devoted that you’ve
become a slave to the family.”
The picture of Hana next to the brazier in the sitting room
intently applying lacquer to Yasu’s teeth struck Fumio as being a
caricature of women and family life.
“Please open your mouth once more.”
Yasu exposed her clenched teeth. Most of her back teeth
had been extracted, but she still had her front incisors, four on
top and four on the bottom. Yasu had never been considered a
 AOS

beauty, but she had always been proud of her teeth. Every morn-
ing and every night, after brushing her teeth with salt, she had
applied the lacquer; thus, even at the age of eighty-seven, she had
eight teeth in excellent condition. She had been blind for more
than ten years. Feeling that she was living to preserve these teeth
of hers, she had Hana lacquer them every other day.
Hana used a tuft hair toothbrush dipped in lacquer and brushed
her mother-in-law’s teeth again and again. The teeth gradually
took on a black, metallic sheen. Only recently had Hana become
aware of the beauty of lacquered teeth. Wrinkles radiated out-
ward from Yasu’s brown lips and from time to time some
mucous trickled from her tightly closed eyes. The gray of her
hair and eyebrows had a yellowish tinge and Yasu’s face was the
very epitome of old age and ugliness. Nonetheless, her teeth,
on which she had lavished great care, were strong as ever. Hana
ignored Fumio’s criticisms. As she brushed on the lacquer, she
experienced the joy of giving a little energy to the old woman,
whose life was slowly ebbing away.
Suddenly Hana realized that Fumio had quietly made her way
to the entrance and was putting on her wooden clogs.
“Where are you off to now, Fumio?”
“T’m going over to the Hiratas of Yagaito,’”” Fumio answered,
a guilty look on her face.
“Whatever for?”
“To talk about my going to Tokyo.”
“Again? You shouldn’t overdo it.”
“T shan’t. I'll be back right away.”
Kazumi was returning home from school just as Fumio passed
through the gate. The collar of Kazumi’s silk kimono was always
neat, and sometimes she would have bows attached to her haori.
Unlike her sister, Kazumi was very concerned about her looks.
“Are you back already?”
“Yes. I skipped my tea ceremony lesson. Don’t tell Mother.”
“But Miss Matsuyama won't be giving lessons this month.
She said that a relative of hers was getting married.”
 LOR

“Really? I didn’t know about that. Then I needn’t have lied to

Mother.”
The two sisters laughed merrily.
‘Where are you off to?”
“To Shin’ike. Don’t mention that to Mother either.”
“T shan’t.”
“Well, Pm off.”
“Please give Uncle my best. Eisuke too.”
“Sure.”
Fumio folded her arms inside her kimono sleeves like a school-
boy. Her shoulders slightly hunched, she made her way north
along the road which led through the rice paddies. For years,
Kosaku had not associated with the main family except to attend
Buddhist memorial services. As long as Fumio could remember,
her uncle had never voluntarily come to visit Agenogaito; his
wife, too, rarely came to pay her respects. Whenever the branch
family was mentioned, Hana, who seldom spoke ill of anyone,
would knit her brows.
“No couple could be as selfish as those two,” was her usual
retort.
Fumio had always sensed a strained relationship between her
uncle and her mother.
It was through Fumio that the two families had kept in touch.
Eisuke, Kosaku’s son, was a year younger than Fumio and a
year behind her in school, but the two cousins got along fine.
Fumio regularly visited Shin’ike. Kosaku, as cynical as ever,
grew to love his niece as though she were his own child.
“Good afternoon. Is Eisuke home?” Fumio asked, calling out
from the entrance in such a loud voice that she could be heard
in her uncle’s room at the back of the house.
“How good of you to come! Eisuke is inside going over his
lessons. Please come in,” said her aunt in a gentle voice as she
peered out from the kitchen, her hair covered with a towel. Ume,
who had always been small, had suddenly put on weight after
turning thirty, and now gave the impression she had difficulty
 map

walking. However, her face was plump and unruffled, making

it hard to believe that she did all the heavy chores around the
house, everything from working out in the fields to making the
fire to heat the bath water. As her aunt slowly removed the towel
from her head and bowed politely, Fumio noticed that her hair
had been done up in a casual bun like that of an ordinary maid.
Ume was very different from Hana, who always wore her hair in
an elaborate chignon.
“Is your mother well? That’s good. Please give her my best
regards. I’ve really been so remiss . . .”
Seventeen years had elapsed since Ume, born and raised in
the city, had come hereasa bride, and she had mastered completely
the Musota dialect. Fumio decided not to mention the fact that
Hana nowadays felt ill-disposed toward Ume as well. Secking
desperately to change the subject, her eyes wandered about
the entrance.
“Aunt Ume, isn’t that a bicycle?”
“Why, yes, it is.”
Fumio ran up to the bicycle propped up against the wall between
the bath and the entrance.
“How marvelous! Did Eisuke get you to buy it for him?”
Yes
“That’s wonderful. How I envy him!”
Fumio timidly placed a hand on the bicycle handle. She bom-
barded her aunt with questions. When had it been bought? Could
Eisuke ride it? Was he using it to go to school?
“Fumio. Come on in,” said Kosaku as he appeared at the
entrance.
Eisuke was locked in battle with a mathematics problem in the
sitting room. As his cousin entered the room, he lowered his
eyebrows, looking sorry for himself. Kosaku’s two children,
Eisuke and Misono, did not do as well in school as their cousins.
Both Seiichirs and Fumio had been top of their class at school,
but Eisuke was just an average student, much to the disappoint-
ment of his father. Not to be outdone by Hana, Kosaku had begun
 =
LOS.

to educate his children relatively early. Eisuke, who was in his

third year of Middle School, was forced to aim for secondary
school, but the boy did not react to his father’s intense ambition.
Hoping to be excused from his studies since his cousin had come
to visit, he cautiously studied his father’s face.
“Eisuke, can you ride that bicycle?” asked Fumio innocently.
“Not yet. I’m still practicing, though. It’s not the easiest thing
to master, you know.”
“I guess not. Let me practice too.”
Kosaku, who had been listening from the side, interrupted:
“Bisuke, have you solved that problem?”
“No, not yet.”
Kosaku rebuked his son. Eisuke, however, merely scratched
his head and did not seem too unhappy about the situation.
“Work it out quickly. If you don’t, you'll go without your
dinner.”
“What can’t you work out? Is it your homework?” inquired
Fumio as she peered at Eisuke’s work.
“No, it isn’t. I understood perfectly when the teacher showed
us how to solve the problem, but I’m finding it difficult to repeat
the steps on my own.”
“Let me have a look at it. Goodness, the standards are high
at the Middle School! I wonder if I can solve it.”
Fumio sat down next to Eisuke. Borrowing a sheet of paper and
a pencil, she drew a triangle and pondered over the problem.
Presently, she wrote out five lines of an equation.
“Ts this the answer?”
“Why, yes. That’s exactly the way the teacher solved the
problem.”
Kosaku, who until this moment had been standing impatiently
nearby, stopped scowling and dismissed his son. He knew a great
deal about literature and history, no less, indeed, than the Middle
School teachers; however, his knowledge of science and mathe-
matics was no better than Fumio’s.
As Eisuke left the room with his textbook, Fumio and her
 erp ee

uncle sat down facing each other and gazed out at the garden, over
which the evening shadows were falling. Ume quietly served
them tea and cakes.
“Fumio, won't you stay for dinner?” she asked.
“We'd invite you to dinner more often if only our meals were
better than those served at your home,” Kosaku added.
“Why, I'd love to stay. I enjoy so much the food you cook.”
“Such flattery!”
Kosaku noisily sipped the dark green tea.
“You'll soon be leaving for Tokyo, won’t you?”
“Yes, indeed. I’m so happy I could burst. Even after returning
home from school, I can’t keep still. The house seems so hope-
lessly old-fashioned. My heart beats wildly at the thought that
I'll be leaving it soon.”
“But studying in Tokyo won't be as easy as you think, Fumio.
If you're too light-hearted about it, you'll find yourself in trou-
ble. Your mother always has her wits about her. Learn from her
and go to Tokyo with her courageous spirit.”
“But Uncle, what’s so courageous about Mother? She never
asserts herself and she’s always at Father’s beck and call. Right
now she’s in the sitting room lacquering Grandmother’s teeth.
I feel thoroughly disgusted seeing her comply so meekly with
Grandmother’s endless requests. And as for my education, it’s
all tea and flowers and music. She doesn’t seem to understand we
live in a new age.”
“You're a funny girl! J also dislike your mother, but for entirely
different reasons. I’m not disgusted by her going out of her way
to lacquer her mother-in-law’s teeth, nor do I detest her for
flaunting her devotion before her husband. What I find unbeara-
ble is the way she cleverly conducts herself in an old-fashioned
manner.”
Fumio stared in amazement at her uncle. Kosaku sipped the
hot soup with its pieces of Kada sea bream, enjoying its delicious
flavor as if he were at the same time savoring the abuse he had
neaped upon his sister-in-law. Now forty-six years old, Kosaku
 got
|Wig

looked much older, thanks, no doubt, to his cynical approach to

life. He had begun to turn gray relatively early. The extraordi-
narily long hairs of his eyebrows shaded his sharp eyes and the
vertical lines on the bridge of his nose were clearly etched. He
looked at least ten years older than his brother.
“Uncle.”
CVests
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about something for a long
time.”
“What is it? Speak up, child.”
‘““Why are you and Mother on bad terms? I can’t help thinking
that it’s very peculiar.”
With her daughter’s assistance, Ume began to clear away the
dinner dishes. She kept coming and going restlessly between
the kitchen and the sitting room.
“Let’s go into my room. Ume, bring us some hot tea.”
Fumio followed her uncle into his study. The two of them
had an unusually close relationship and once they began talk-
ing, not even Kosaku’s own children were asked to join in the
conversation. Feeling as though they had been set free, Eisuke
and Misono hurried off to their room and romped about like little
children as they spread out their bedding. Ume did not enjoy
a position of high standing as wife and mother in the household.
Without a word of complaint, she went about putting things in
order while Kosaku, who was so hard to please, grumbled at her.
Although the house they lived in had been enlarged as the family
grew, they did not have a maid. Kosaku alone, master of the
house, seemed quite content, and had his wife and children do
all the chores.
“Would you care for some bean jelly?”
Kdsaku opened the small chest near the brazier and took out
the red-bean jelly. With a length of string, he cut the jelly into
five equal parts. Misono came in to serve the tea, which had been
poured into Kutani tea bowls.
“Misono, you have some too,” said Fumio.
 aol ae

“Thank you, but Eisuke is calling me. . .,” said Misono.

Studying her father’s face, she hesitated for a moment before
scurrying away.
Kosaku treated his daughter as though she were a maid. With
a look of displeasure on his face, he continued to chew silently
on a thick slice of bean jelly.

» Yesse
Kosaku gulped down his tea, took out a towel from his breast
fold, and wiped his lips. Gazing steadily at a spot beyond his
niece’s face, he asked:
“Do you know what vitality is?”
“If you mean the basic meaning ofthe word, yes, I do.”
“Those endowed with it are strong, and those without it,
weak. Your mother is a good example ofa strong woman. You can
compare her to the River Ki. Its blue waters, flowing leisurely,
appear tranquil and gentle, but the river itself swallows up all the
weak rivers flowing in the same direction. It also possesses the
energy to pour its waters into a strong, promising river. Long ago,
the Ki flowed to the area around Kinomoto, slightly north of its
present mouth. There happened to be a more powerful river to
the south with which the Ki merged, thereby changing its
course.”
Her uncle’s words were laden with meaning. Being cautious
not to interpret them wrongly, Fumio did not even nod. She
gazed steadily at her uncle, who continued his solemn monologue.
“Your mother wanted to sweep me up into the mainstream. In
order to do this, she even tried to overwhelm Ume. I guess she
thought of us as being weak rivers totally lacking in vitality. But
there are narrow rivers flowing parallel to the Ki, like the Naru-
taki, which are difficult to swallow up. We're like that. Does this
answer your question as to why our relationship is strained?”
“Well then, Uncle, I too am like the Narutaki River. I’ve been
raised by Mother for eighteen years, but I haven’t lived up to her
expectations.”
 wae
|8) ae

“That’s why you and I get along so well.”

“At least we think alike.”
“Whom do you think I meant when I spoke of astrong, prom-
ising river?”
“T guess you meant Father. Mother says he'll one day become
a minister of state. That’s why we have to take such good care of
him.”
“A minister of state? Well, well. The Speaker of the House
seems to be an extraordinary man!” Kosaku snorted.
Fumio was beginning to feel uneasy. She was antagonistic
toward her mother, but she could not join her uncle in ridiculing
her father. Nonetheless, she had recently heard rumors about her
father which troubled her.
“Uncle, I’ve heard some strange rumors about Father.”
“What have you heard?”
“That he’s keeping a mistress in the city.”
Her father spent two weeks of each month away from home.
Fumio had been aware of his lengthy absences for the past two
years. It was only fairly recently, however, that she had heard
about his mistress, a geisha whom he had ransomed three months
previously.
“Ts that right?”
Kosaku folded his arms, deep in thought. His face remained
composed, but his brows betrayed his anger. Having severed
all ties with the outside world, apart from newspapers and books,
Kosaku rarely heard any gossip. What he had just learned from his
niece was news indeed.
“When I think of how Mother, who has done everything to
please Father and the family, has been betrayed, I feel that she is
the one to blame for allowing him to become so selfish.”
“You're extraordinarily logical for a girl, Fumio.”
Kosaku noticed that his tea had grown cold. He drank up what
he had left and poured some hot water from the kettle into the
teapot. He then poured himself and Fumio some hot tea. Follow-
ing the movement of his hands with her eyes, Fumio noticed the
 Som 113 Se

gracefulness of his fingertips and blushed. She was embarrassed

that she had allowed dirt to accumulate under her own long fin-
gernails, which she had not bothered to cut for some time.
Sipping the tea, Kdsaku asked:
“Does your mother know about the other woman?”
“T really can’t say. No one thinks of her as being dull about such
matters, so I doubt that anyone has told her to her face.”
“You're right about that.”
“T don’t think she’d rebuke Father, even if she knew about it.
After all, he’s going to be a minister of state some day.”
Kosaku smiled cynically.
“The Women’s Rights Society was established more than ten
years ago and women are now conscious of their inferior social
position. It’s intolerable that Mother hasn’t changed at all. I can
hardly wait to get away from the stifling atmosphere at home.
I’m not particularly fired with the idea of becoming an activist
for women’s rights, but I’ll never be old-fashioned like Mother.”
Kosaku listened without comment to his young niece. Fumio’s
image of her mother contrasted greatly with the image he had of
Hana, which filled him with a feeling of deep regret. Nevertheless,
they both resisted Hana as best they could and had been drawn to
each other. Both Kosaku and Fumio detested the “ideal woman”
known to the world as the elegant wife of Matani Keisaku.
After his marriage to Ume, Kosaku had broken off all ties with
Hana, so as not to be influenced by her. As for Fumio, by going
off to Tokyo, she planned to lead an independent life away from
her mother. At the subconscious level, both Kosaku and Fumio
had sensed the danger of being swallowed up by Hana if they
remained too close to her. Nonetheless, though Fumio con-
demned her mother at her uncle’s house as being old-fashioned,
she behaved submissively at home. Hana’s bearing was such that
she compelled one and all to behave properly.
“ll be giving you koto lessons starting today,” announced
Hana one day.
Fumio did not protest. It had earlier been arranged for Fumio to
 waa
Er Mag

go to a koto teacher in the city after school, but she had lied and
deceived her mother about her lessons. During her second year at
the Girls’ School, she had stopped going altogether. From the
spring of her third year, koto teachers had been summoned to the
house. Fumio, however, would sometimes be late for the lessons
and at other times, not show up at all. When at last she took her
place opposite the teacher, she had been unable to memorize the
most elementary piece no matter how many times she went over
it, for she had absolutely no desire to learn. The teachers had been
paid handsomely and treated very politely by Hana, but anyone
with a sense of pride went home either highly indignant or seeth-
ing with anger. Hana had had to bow low, entreating the teacher
to please be patient with her daughter. Three different teachers
had come from the city to give koto lessons and no other teacher
was available. Hana obstinately insisted that her daughter master
the instrument. Her younger sisters had enjoyed their music
lessons from the start, but Fumio made no effort to please her
mother. Hana felt that her daughter's intransigence was quite
unforgivable.
The room attached to the dimly lit hall with the Buddhist altar
in it was reserved for koto lessons on Sunday mornings. It was
natural for Fumio to feel tense, but Hana ignored the girl’s emo-
tional state. As though she were teaching a beginner she was
strict about each point: how a student should sit down in front of
the instrument, the way to put on the ivory picks, and how a
student should behave toward the teacher.
Have you seen
The Silver Pavilion
In the capital?
Its gate of bush clover,
Its alcove post of nandina?
Without a music sheet, Fumio was expected to learn this old
practice piece with which even the koto teachers in the city were
probably unfamiliar.
 aaa
Co aaa

“Once again.”
Regardless of how many times Fumio played the melody, Hana
was not satisfied. It was incredible that anyone who had been tak-
ing lessons for so many years could find it difficult to master this
simple piece. With patience surpassing that of any of Fumio’s
previous instructors, Hana quietly observed her student’s total
lack of interest in the lessons.
Kazumi and Utae had memorized the piece. Even when they
went about the house humming the tune and Utae started learning
to play it on the shamisen, Fumio was still unable to play the piece
to Hana’s satisfaction.
At long last, Fumio managed to pick out the simple tune which
accompanied the song. Nevertheless, she played in such a dis-
tracted manner that anyone with an ear for music could tell that
she had no appreciation for the light quality of the lyrics and the
simple elegance of the tune. Hana was determined to wait until
her daughter realized that however busily her fingers, fitted with
ivory picks, flew over the strings, the koto, which possessed an
intrinsic life of its own, would give out a cold sound. The instru-
ment would not produce music for someone who did not listen
attentively and had no appreciation for the melody. Without
demonstrating some warmth of feeling toward an object, what-
ever it might be, one could not comprehend its true nature. Unless
one spoke from one’s heart, one would be denied a direct answer.
Hana was trying to get her daughter to appreciate these concepts
by means of the koto. If Fumio were mentally prepared to ques-
tion the concept of “family” and not just blindly rebel against it,
she would receive a response overflowing with vitality. Hana
was admonishing her daughter who indiscriminately rejected old
traditions without probing into the reasons for their existence.
Alas, all Fumio felt was that the woman seated correctly in front
of her was an overbearingly strict and extremely obdurate mother
who made her suffer and forced her to play the koto. Fumio
wondered abstractedly whether the worst blunder she could
possibly make would be to cut one of the strings with a pick or
 pictad
Bs Sees

to trip over the koto and let out a shriek. Of course, those were
fantasies she would not carry out. However, she knew a sure way
to dispel her feelings of oppression before they became intolerable.
She had already concluded that the basic points in flower arrange-
ment and music lessons were foolish. Therefore, she had con-
vinced herself that—though the lessons at times seemed taxing—
she should not express her feelings of disgust. Fumio would stifle
her yawns while her mother patiently waited for her to show
some spontaneity. She strained her ears if she heard anyone in the
adjoining room, and if she heard voices, her attention was drawn
to what was being said. When there was nothing to be heard, her
eyes wandered around the room from one object to another. In
this way she refused to concentrate on the music.
Being a woman of excellent taste in art, Hana occasionally re-
decorated the rooms in the house by exchanging the scrolls,
ornamental objects, and vases with pieces brought out of storage.
It was apparent that both her father-in-law and his father had had
a deep interest in antiques, for a number of objects of considerable
value had been stored away. But it was also apparent that for
years the Matanis had not taken out the objects to look at them
and enjoy them. Hana had boldly displayed such treasures as the
calligraphy of Rai San’yo and hanging scrolls by Takeda in the
drawing room. Whenever she had the opportunity, she displayed
on the alcove shelves the ornate mirror stand and elaborate
cosmetic boxes she had brought with her as a bride.
Whenever she got bored during a music lesson, Fumio looked
at these objects, impressed that they were family possessions. A jar
that had been stored away long before Fumio’s birth, a hanging
scroll which had been rolled and unrolled any number of times
years before Hana had become mistress of the house, all were
objects which had been valued highly and handed down from one
generation to another. Tea utensils and a variety of vases. Each
object appeared to have been in the family for generations and
had become darkened like the thick beams of the house itself.
Fumio had grown so accustomed to the lessons she no longer
 at wa

found them intolerable, but she nonetheless awaited them unen-

thusiastically.
“Bring the koto with you,” ordered her mother.
Hana took up the older koto and made her way along the cor-
ridor in the direction of the sitting room. Wondering where they
were going to practice this time, Fumio obediently followed her
mother with her own koto. Hana turned at the sitting room and
carried on to the storeroom at the north of the house, then headed
straight for the main storehouse. The door, as though anticipating
their arrival, had been left open. Hana glanced quickly back at
Fumio. Without uttering a word, she shifted the koto she was
carrying into a more comfortable position and entered.
The place had been cleaned by the maids. Light poured in from
a small open window on the second floor, shone down at the same
angle as a flight of stairs, and illuminated the floor. The interior
had been designed so that the ventilation and the temperature
were naturally regulated, and so the air inside was heavy and
damp even during this early winter season of dryness. Mother and
daughter sat facing each other with their kotos between them. The
mat on which they sat had been placed out of reach of the sun,
but the two women were oblivious to the cold.
“No sound will reach us here, so you won't be distracted. Con-
centrate solely on playing the koto,” Hana said in a solemn tone.
She finally allowed Fumio to progress from “The Silver Pavilion”
to a new selection. Hana played the new piece once all the way
through in order to introduce it to Fumio. Both the tune and the
lyrics were old-fashioned and slow in tempo. Fumio had never
heard the tune before. It did not differ greatly from the earlier
piece: it was a simple tune with little embellishment.
“I’m going to play it again, so listen closely.”
Hana played the piece once again with feeling, doubtless be-
cause she was remembering her own childhood. In her determi-
nation to teach her daughter, Hana herself at some point had be-
come a captive of the instrument she was playing. Her koto was an
old-fashioned one, seven feet long, and quite unlike the fine wood
 eae
WL he

but inelegant shape of the new koto that Fumio was playing.
The side panels were decorated with plovers and waves in gold
lacquer. Her koto had been ordered from Kyoto by Toyono and
special care had been given to its design. Stretched loosely along
the length of the instrument, the koto strings produced a rich
sound which seemed to give a nostalgic caress to Hana’s pene-
trating voice.
Seeing her mother thus absorbed, Fumio realized that she was
no match for her. She felt extremely irritated. Hana, who had
turned forty-four, had worn her hair in the same elaborate chignon
for over ten years, but her beauty had not faded in the least. She
did not go out of her way to appear younger than she was; on the
contrary, she took great pains to dress her age. The dark, purplish
gray kimono she was wearing had a fine print woven into the
material, and her sash, of a subdued shade of rusty red, also had
a fine pattern. Hana’s features, in harmony with her taste in
clothes, glowed with all the maturity of a woman of forty. In
perfect accord with her age, Hana continued to preserve her
beauty. She retained her girlhood serenity, a serenity which, in
all probability, would remain unrufled in the years to come.
Fumio sighed. Her eyes, which had grown accustomed to the
dark, grew rebellious. They darted from one corner of the room
to another, taking note of two oblong chests placed side by side—
one of black lacquer and the other of red—and the carefully
stacked paulownia boxes of varying sizes. She noticed that slips
of Japanese paper which noted the contents were attached to the
boxes and strained her eyes to read them in order to alleviate her
boredom. She saw that the tags were written in her mother’s
hand: “Ko-Kutani plate with vermilion painting,” “Chinese
lion of celadon,” “decorative object with cloud-and-dragon de-
sign.
Hana had almost finished playing the piece through a second
time when she suddenly realized that Fumio was not paying
attention. She rebuked her daughter severely:
“Fumio, do you still refuse to listen?”
 roel
Ube Maths

In that instant, Fumio felt a flash of pain on her right hand. Hana
had struck the back of Fumio’s hand, which was resting on the
koto strings. With the force of the blow, the picks on Hana’s
fingers cut deep into the back of her daughter’s hand. The tender
skin, broken in three places, began to bleed. Hana and Fumio
stared blankly at the oozing blood, which appeared a deep red
even in the dark.
As far back as Fumio could remember, Hana had never re-
vealed her feelings in this manner, nor had she ever laid a hand
on her daughter. Fumio was taken by surprise. At the same time,
she experienced a mysterious sensation which she had no time to
analyze. Having seen for the first time the worst in her mother,
Fumio had a perverse desire to make her feel ashamed of her out-
burst. Fumio little imagined, being the young girl that she was,
that her mother’s irritability had been intensified by her hus-
band’s chronic neglect of her. The scars on the back of her hand
remained for a long time, and even after the wound had healed,
three lines were clearly visible. Whenever Fumio looked at the
scars, she thought of her imminent departure for Tokyo.
Nevertheless, Fumio continued to hold her mother in awe and
behaved more submissively than ever in her presence. After the
incident, she attended her other lessons religiously, telling herself
that she had just a little longer to put up with them.
There were no more koto lessons. Hana had been appalled by
the fact that she had caused her own child to bleed. She tried to
banish the memory of that unpleasant incident from her mind.
Nevertheless, less than half a year later Hana again lost her temper,
this time in front of her two younger daughters and the servants
as well. Fumio was again the cause.
The end of her final semester was fast approaching and Fumio
was spending her days blissfully dreaming of Tokyo. She may not
have been the easiest person to get along with, but everyone was
reluctant to see her go. She continued to make startling state-
ments, shocking the conservative residents of Ki province. How-
ever, people were more tolerant than before and were merely
amused. Fumio was delighted to be leaving her birthplace, for
which she had very little genuine affection. She could not have
chosen for herself a new life more suitable than that which the
capital of Japan would provide.
School ended at four o'clock, but she always returned home
after dark. That day, however, it really was too late, even if she
had gone to her lessons.
“Where is Fumio? What in the world could she be doing?”
asked Hana, seeing that her eldest daughter was the only one
missing from the dinner table. Kazumi, Utae, and ten-year-old
Tomokazu, avoiding their mother’s eyes, answered evasively.
Hana was the only one ignorant of what Fumio had been up to
lately. Fumio’s younger brother and sisters and a few of the maids
knew, but no one dared to tell on Fumio. It was not that they
lacked the courage. They were simply trying their best to keep
Fumio’s latest activity from Hana, knowing full well that she
would be extremely displeased. Instead of returning straight
home, Fumio made her way to Shin’ike every day after school.
Borrowing Eisuke’s bicycle, she practiced riding it in the play-
ground of Musota Elementary School. Lately, this had been the
talk of the village. The villagers knew very well that Hana and
Kosaku were on bad terms. Moreover, they were unable to tell on
Fumio, as they felt warmly toward her. They all dreaded the day
Hana would find out about it.
One Friday afternoon, Fumio herself, little bothered by the
concern of others, showed her mother what she had been doing.
Having been buffeted by the cold winter wind, Fumio’s cheeks
were ruddy. She got off the bicycle at the gate and carried it into
the garden. Then, supporting herself against the persimmon tree,
she got on again and began to pedal away.
“Tomokazu, Tomokazu. Come and see me ride the bicycle!”
Fumio cried in a loud voice.
Kazumi and Utae came running out of the house. A few of the
maids peered at her from the entrance.
With all eyes on her, Fumio impressed her audience as she
 SRW Alec

showed off on the bicycle, circling the garden a couple of times.

To show that she was in complete control, she looked back and
flashed a smile. The Matani garden was covered with matting at
this time of year when the tenant farmers presented their rice
crop. It was smaller than the school playground but big enough
for Fumio to demonstrate her newly acquired skill.
Fumio had recently reverted to maroon hakamas. But when
she straddled Eisuke’s bicycle, which had a metal bar connecting
the handlebars and the seat, and pushed on the pedals, the bottom
of her hakama flapped upward in a most unladylike manner.
Moreover, she was wearing white socks and wooden clogs instead
of shoes that day. The sight of Fumio’s sturdy white legs which
were clearly visible caused both Kazumi and Utae to feel faint.
Fumio’s younger sisters had been taught to feel aversion toward
any indecent exposure of human flesh. They were therefore dis-
tressed to see their sister in such a state.
But Tomokazu innocently cheered his sister on.
“How does it feel?”
“Marvelous! When you race against the wind, the world is
completely transformed! I'll tell Father to get a bicycle for the
Young Men’s Association.”
“Will you? Then I’ll ask Father to buy me one too.”
“You should. I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“T wonder ifIcan ride it. Isn’t it a little too big for me?”
“No, it isn’t. Would you like to try?”
She was about to stop when Fumio instinctively sensed some-
thing rushing at her from behind and fell off the bicycle.
“Pumio!”
Hana was standing there. In her haste, she had not bothered to
look for her clogs but had rushed out in her tabi socks. Her face
was pale and the corner of her right eye twitched nervously.
“Where did you get that bicycle?”
“T borrowed it from Eisuke.”
Fumio had no time to think of a plausible lie. Trying to hide her
embarrassment, she got up and brushed the dust from her skirt.
 net
2 faa

“Fumio!” cried Hana, this time shrieking. Hana grabbed her

daughter roughly by the arm and dragged her into the house.
‘Have you been practicing al] this time without telling me?”
“But Mother...”
“You've been riding around the village, haven’t you, you
shameless girl!”
“But Mother...”
“How much longer must you insult me to feel satisfied? Just
how far do you intend to go?”
“T’m sorry, Mother. . .”
Hana gave Fumio no chance to speak in her own defense. She
gave vent to a torrent of almost incomprehensible abuse as she
dragged Fumio in the direction of the storehouse. No sooner did
Fumio realize that she was going to be thrown into the dark room
than she burst into a childish wail.
“Mother, I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I was wrong.”
Sliding open the door with one hand, Hana pushed Fumio
inside with all her might. That a woman who spent her days in
such a quietly civilized way possessed so much strength was
astonishing.
“I promise not to ride the bicycle again.”
Paying no attention to her daughter, who was crying like a
baby, Hana slammed shut the heavy door and fastened the latch.
Fumio’s voice followed her as she rushed back to the entrance,
feeling the cold corridor against the soles of her bare feet. Her
heart was pounding. Her anger, which was greater than her shock,
had still not abated. Nevertheless, she felt she had better first put
away the tabis she had quickly slipped off as she came in from the
garden. Not one of the maids, who were still in a state of shock,
had had enough presence of mind to pick them up.
Hana gathered up the dirty tabis and went into the storeroom
to put on a freshly-laundered pair. She was in the habit of chang-
ing her tabis in the morning, in the evening, and whenever she
had callers. She had been quick in slipping off the dirty pair, but
to put on a fresh pair she went into the storeroom where no one
 sor a

was about to watch her. Then, sitting sideways, she quickly

fastened them on. Rising to her feet, she looked down at her white
tabis and struggled to regain her composure.
“Mother,” pleaded Kazumi and Utae, who were seated at the
entrance. “Please forgive Fumio.” Tears streamed down their
faces.
By this time Fumio, who had been momentarily terrified, had
stopped crying. She grew calm when she realized she had nothing
to cry about. Being put into a storehouse may be an appropriate
form of punishment for a child but definitely not for an eighteen-
year-old girl. Fumio laughed at her mother for having lost her
temper just because she had discovered that her daughter had been
riding a bicycle. She had the feeling that her mother’s anger had
been as great as it was because the bicycle belonged to Kosaku,
whom she disliked so intensely. Was she that resentful of the
Narutaki River which refused to flow into the Ki? Recalling how
she had wailed when first startled by her mother’s outburst of
anger, Fumio could not help but smile sheepishly to herself.
In spite of the entreaties of Fumio’s sisters, Hana’s anger re-
mained unappeased. Fumio had removed her haori before riding
the bicycle. All that physical activity had made her feel warm,
but now that she found herself alone in the dark storehouse she
felt the intense cold and winced. She recollected how tense she
had felt as she practiced the koto in her mother’s presence. Sud-
denly thinking of playing the instrument which had been left in
this room, she made her way gingerly toward it in the semi-
darkness. She removed the oilcloth cover and saw that the eleventh
and twelfth strings had snapped. She did not dare touch her
mother’s koto. To keep herself warm, she thought of spreading
out a quilt. Opening the oblong chest of red lacquer, she found—
instead of bedding—things she had not expected to find.
The first object she came across was a big crimson crape
cushion. She then unearthed an unusually large folding paper-
case and found wrapped inside it an outer robe with crimson
lining. It was the light yellowish green outer robe of embossed
 eka

satin that Hana had worn at her wedding banquet. The small
silvery print of pine needles and cones appeared to float upward.
Fumio pulled out the cushion and the robe and decided to use
them to keep herself warm.
In her search for something of interest, she noticed a bundle of
magazines on the shelf under the stairs. Being fond of reading,
Fumio took the bundle down and dusted it off. It contained about
thirty issues of Women’s World, a journal Hana had read regularly
for a time after her marriage.
Fumio thought that a bright spot was preferable, even though
it would be colder, and so she climbed up the steep, ladderlike
stairs. She set the cushion down near the second-story window.
Then, throwing the robe over her shoulders, Fumio sat down on
the cushion and looked intently through the old magazines. One
issue contained the 1911 proclamation of the Seitdsha Women’s
Rights Organization. The writings of such women as Hiratsuka
Raicho and Otake Kokichi, enthusiastically advocating the
extension of women’s rights, were scattered throughout the
volumes. Fumio found it incredible that her mother had once
read these articles. How was it possible for Hana to have lived
through such a period? After all, she had given Fumio her first
lessons in Sino-Japanese texts, essential English grammar, tea
ceremony, flower arrangement, and the koto. As she leafed
through the pages, Fumio discovered that in both the old Women’s
World and the current Wives’ World, the basic philosophy of the
contributors remained. unchanged. Near the end of a 1912 issue,
she came across the name Kimoto Hanako in a list of writers of
prize-winning essays.
Her mother’s essay, entitled “Family Life,’ had received first
prize. Printed very ostentatiously were the writer’s words:
“Having been graciously informed of this unexpected honor, I
take up my brush, my heart palpitating with joy. I truly feel that
this is but a dream.” Her essay, written in elegant prose, extolled
the woman who married and carried within her the spirit of the
family. Such a woman should try her utmost to become a slave to
 he
DAsyas

and an indispensable part of the family. The essay seemed some-

what inappropriate for a magazine whose aim was to enlighten
the meek, old-fashioned women and to nurture young women
belonging to the modern age. Nonetheless, the editors, in their
capacity as judges, were impressed by its lyricism and rich power
of expression and praised it glowingly. The prize was five yen,
then considered a large sum of money.

Fumio graduated from Wakayama Girls’ School in 1921.

Afterward, accompanied by her father, she made her way to
Tokyo where she took her entrance examination in a temporary
building of Tokyo Women’s College, then located in Tsunohazu.
There were fewer than forty applicants, many of whom were
dressed either in plain handwoven kimonos or well-laundered
dark blue kimonos with a splashed pattern. Fumio, who was
wearing a brocade haori over a kimono made-to-order, felt ex-
tremely self-conscious. There were a number of girls over twenty
who looked very grown-up to Fumio. Although she was taller
than the average Japanese girl, she was painfully aware of the fact
that in every respect she was just a country girl. Observing that
only half of the girls wore shoes and that the others wore wooden
clogs or straw sandals, Fumio felt ashamed: to think that back in
Musota she had boasted about the new women’s movement!
Her linguistic ability was far inferior to that of the girls who had
been brought up in Tokyo and her English examination was,
she thought, a total disaster. Nonetheless, the Women’s College
found a place for her, treating her with unusual generosity. To her
great joy and relief, she was allowed to enroll. Furthermore, she
registered in the English Department.
The dormitories were filled to capacity, and so the college
officials expressed their hope that she find accommodation in a
lodging house. Fumio therefore decided to stay at the Muraki-ya,
an inn which was located in Tameike, and to commute to school
from there. The Muraki-ya, owned by a man from Kii Village,
which adjoined Isao Village, was where Keisaku took up lodgings
 Sor

whenever he was in Tokyo. Mr. Muraki said that he would be

delighted to look after Mr. Matani’s daughter. Only the previous
year, Tokyo Women’s College had obtained a second campus
after taking over the old classroom buildings of the Peer’s School
in Nagata-cho. The college now owned those buildings along
with the ones it already possessed in Tsunohazu. Fumio did not
therefore have far to go from her lodgings to her college.

I am writing to formally inform you that I have been in

love.
Hana received this disturbing news within three months
of Fumio’s departure.
But I have been disappointed in love. Only while he
was in Wakayama did Mr. Tamura’s existence seem so
brilliant! I have been utterly disillusioned! I saw with my
own eyes how, within two years, the man I idolized had
lost his youthful zeal, and was made painfully aware of
the cruel changes wrought by time. However, I still have
my youth before me. I have been deeply inspired by
Yasui Tetsu’s lectures on ethics and attend her lectures
faithfully. Please do not worry about me, as I am reg-
ularly going for my lessons in tea ceremony and flower
arrangement.
Hana breathed a sigh of relief as she folded the letter, which
Fumio had dashed off with a pencil. She then slipped it into the
envelope. Seiichird’s letters were shorter, but his calligraphy was
smaller and neater than Fumio’s terrible scrawl. Hana continued
to worry about whether it had been wise to send her daughter
to Tokyo. She had received word from Mrs. Tasaki that she
would keep an eye on Fumio. Even then, Hana’s anxiety was not
dispelled.

The Matani household was filled with the tranquillity of spring.

 ie dO Soe

Kazumi and Utae were quiet girls who did not rebel against their
mother. Unlike Seiichirs when he was little, Tomokazu was
mischievous; he was reprimanded severely whenever he trampled
the neatly arranged plants in the garden. He would clamber up
the persimmon tree on the south side of the house within the
walled enclosure, shouting:
“This is the siege of Port Arthur. Charge!” He would then
shout orders to the children in the neighborhood whom he had
rounded up.
It seemed incredible that a branch of Kudoyama persimmon
had been sent over to be grafted to the tree. With its healthy
branches, the tree did not even shake, though Tomokazu climbed
it with great aplomb. Fumio had been the only other of Hana’s
children to climb the tree. As she watched her son at play, Hana
thought of her daughter in Tokyo. She remembered that when
she had been pregnant with Fumio, Toyono had predicted that
the child would be climbing the tree. Hana was suddenly assailed
by memories of her grandmother, who had been dead for eighteen
years. “Please tell me how Fumio will turn out,” Hana asked in
vain.
Ume arrived at the gate on an errand for her husband. Seeing
Hana, she grew flustered.
“T’ve been terribly remiss. I hope that you have been well,” she
said, bowing low.
“My, but it’s been ages since I last saw you. I, too, have been
remiss. I do hope you've been well, Ume.”
Hana had not seen Ume in years, and so, overcome by nostalgia,
she greeted her warmly. Ume entered the house and rubbed her
hands nervously over the empty brazier. She was as well disposed
toward Hana as before, butshe could not very well say that Kosaku
kept her from displaying any warmth of feeling. She therefore
sat there feeling awkward and embarrassed.
“I’m afraid these didn’t turn out very well. I don’t know
whether or not you'll find them palatable, but please try some,”
Ume said. Removing the towel covering the plate, Hana saw that
 vai Soa

her sister-in-law had brought some homemade sushi. Ume’s

culinary skill was recognized throughout Musota. After chatting
informally for some time, Ume turned to the real purpose of her
visit.
“My husband sent me over to ask you for Fumio’s Tokyo
address.”
“Fumio’s address? What business does he have with her?” in-
quired Hana, with a cautious look on her face.
“We'd like to send her some bariko when they’re in season.
Kosaku says that he’d like to send her a package containing various
Wakayama delicacies.”
“The season is still a long way off. Please tell Kosaku not to
worry about Fumio, as she is living in an inn where she can eat
her fill of such delicacies.”
Bariko was a kind of fish caught in the waters off the western
coast of Ki province which was cut open and dried. It was con-
sidered a great regional delicacy. When broiled, fish and bones
could be crunched and eaten. It had a wonderful aroma and
tasted delicious. People living along the western shores of the
province were fond of this tiny fish with its large eyes and tiny
mouth. The bariko was, moreover, highly regarded by the
gourmets of Osaka. It was in season from the end of autumn to
winter, and so Hana found it strange that Ume spoke of sending
some of this delicacy to Fumio at this time of year. Furthermore,
Fumio had insisted that she be left alone, so Hana coldly turned
Ume away.
Ume hunched her plump shoulders. She appeared extremely
worried about the prospect of having to report her failure to
carry out her mission. Watching Ume cross the garden and
head for home, Hana wondered why she was trying to mono-
polize her daughter. She also wondered why she had not taken
this golden opportunity to resolve the long-standing estrangement
between Kosaku and herself. How narrow-minded she was in
turning away poor Ume, who had come to visit her in such a
friendly spirit!
 eeu
ae Bags

Hana removed her jade hair ornament and scratched the back of
her head with the pointed end. She had a bald spot under her
chignon which was done up in a married woman’s coiffure.
Keisaku returned home earlier than usual that day. He had been
busy in the Lower House polishing up a proposal for improve-
ments in the River Ki project. He was hoping to have Tasaki
Yusuke present the proposal to the House of Representatives of
the National Diet within the year. Lately, however, there had
been a break in his normally hectic schedule.
“Welcome home.”
“What's new?”
Keisaku had been away in Wakayama City for about five days.
Feeling guilty about his long absence, he avoided looking directly
into his wife’s eyes and played instead with Tomokazu who
demanded his attention.
“There was a letter from Fumio.”
“Oh? What did she say?”
“She asked us to send her an Oshima kimono and some money.
She also mentioned that Tokyo is more of a cultural center than
Wakayama. That was the gist of her letter.”
“She’s a strange one. I wonder how far she’ll go in expressing
herself: Send her the money she asks for. We can trust her.”
“But we already send Seiichiro seventy yen every month.
Fifty yen should be more money than she actually needs.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll manage somehow.”
Hana remained silent for a while, remembering that it was an
indication of a man’s financial success to keep a mistress. She
abruptly changed the subject.
“Your work here has been piling up. Is there something in
Musota that you find unpleasant?”
“Oh, no. It’s just that I usually get through late in the day, so I
remain in the city. I’m even thinking of buying a little house.”
Actually, Keisaku had already bought a house for his mistress
without first consulting his wife.
“But you couldn’t possibly buy a little house.”
 oe EONaes

“I suppose not.”
“T hear that Mr. Karaki is looking for someone to buy his man-
sion in Masago-cho. You will disgrace your name and position if
you buy a house that is any smaller.”
Keisaku had also heard that the imposing mansion, occupying
almost a half an acre of land, was up for sale. However, it had
never occurred to him to buy the place for himself. It surprised
him that his wife, who worried about the seventy yen for Sei-
ichiro and the fifty yen for Fumio, should speak so eagerly about
buying a new house. He was more taken aback than impressed by
the astuteness of his wife who felt that a mansion in town was a
worthwhile investment for the future.
The tiny cottage he had bought for his mistress was located in
Masago-cho. What was really behind Hana’s words? Had she
mentioned Masago-ch6 on purpose or just by chance? Hana had
not once in all this time complained about the nights he spent
away from home, and yet here she was urging him to buy this
spacious mansion in Masago-ch6. Keisaku could not help suspect-
ing that his wife’s words were inspired by jealousy.
“That would be splendid. I wouldn’t want to be thought of as
Matani of Musota for the rest of my life.”
Keisaku said these words casually, but he realized that sweat was
pouring from his armpits. Hastily taking up his tea bowl, he
gulped down some tea and complained that it was cold.
Keisaku rarely complained, as his brother did, about the tea
being either too dark or too light. Now, however, he was speak-
ing out of desperation. Hana sprang to her feet.
“Tm terribly sorry. It was thoughtless of me.”
With quick steps she disappeared into the kitchen with the tea-
pot. Keisaku slipped his hands into the opening of his kimono
sleeves and touched his wet armpits.
“How would you like to live in a house in the city?” he asked
Tomokazu.
“A house in the city? That would be great. Musota is so pro-
vincial,”’ his son said with a precocious air. Keisaku, relaxing for
 foley

the first time since his return home, laughed boisterously.

In the election for member of the Lower House for the con-
stituency of Wakayama City and Kaiso County, Tasaki Yusuke,
member of the Executive Council of the Seiytkai, had con-
sistently been chosen by an overwhelming majority of the voters
in past years. Nonetheless, the general election of 1924 had been
an unusually hard battle, for immediately after the split in the
Seiyikai, the Sakai family—until then staunch Tasaki sup-
porters—suddenly went over to the rival side with Mr. Sakai
himself running as a candidate. Tasaki received 3,478 votes and
was reelected; however, he won by just thirty votes.
“The time has come for Matani Keisaku to take over,” mur-
mured the veteran politician to himself, greatly relieved upon
hearing the results of the ballot count. In his capacity as chairman
of the party’s election committee, this seventy-year-old politician
had rallied his men about him in an impressive manner. He had
been nominated minister of state a number of times but had been
in no great hurry to attain national fame. His sincerity and honesty
showed in his noble profile. Listening to the cheers of victory in
his election headquarters, Tasaki pondered the fighting spirit dem-
onstrated by Keisaku in the recent election. It would not have
been an exaggeration to say that Tasaki was entirely indebted
to Keisaku for his reelection.
The election results strengthened the feeling throughout the
prefecture that it was now time for Matani Keisaku. His mansion
in Masago-chd was most imposing, all but confirming the rumor
that he would run. The Western-style iron gate opened to reveal
a gravel road which led for about 120 feet to the entrance. Visitors
were constantly streaming in and out of the one-storied building,
which occupied 908 square yards, and menservants and maids ran
busily about the place on their errands.
Hana was at the center of all this activity. After the family had
moved to the city, she was addressed by all as madame. In keep-
‘ng with this title of respect, she started wearing kimonos with
 itoadas

smarter designs. Hana, now aged forty-seven, still retained her

former beauty. She looked only about forty; but she made sure
her kimonos were not too conspicuously youthful. On the con-
trary, she had such an air of refinement about her that people
found it difficult to believe that she was a country girl who had
made her way to the city.
When the excitement of the May election had subsided in the
Matani household, Hana suddenly found herself extremely busy.
There was a possibility of a marriage for Fumio, who was still
attending Tokyo Women’s College. Having successfully com-
pleted her first year of preparatory courses, Fumio had been ac-
cepted into the regular undergraduate program and was currently
a third-year student majoring in English literature.
For the past two years, Hana had been very worried about her
daughter’s chances for marriage. She herself had married Keisaku
when she was twenty-two, but she was determined to marry
Fumio off before she turned twenty-one. Hana deeply regretted
having allowed Fumio to attend college in Tokyo, for her
daughter was gleefully striding in the opposite direction from
that which Hana had in mind.
Keisaku often made his way to Tokyo on official business, as
he was now the head of the Wakayama branch of the Seiyikai.
On his return from one of his trips, he found himself alone with
his wife.
“You know, Hana, Fumio has found herself in quite a predica-
ment.” His eyes twinkled as he studied his wife’s reaction.
“What do you mean by that?”
Hana knew that her husband was only teasing her, but she could
not help worrying endlessly about her daughter. When Fumio
first went to Tokyo, she had written regularly describing en-
thusiastically her new life. Within six months, however, she wrote
but rarely. When she sent an occasional postcard to her parents, it
was a request for more money. Seiichiré had failed in the diplo-
matic service examination and was still ensconced in his Tokyo
boarding house. His letters—formal and to the point—were also
 sean Pac

requests for money. The Matanis quickly forwarded the amount

requested, as they accorded their eldest son the highest respect.
Neither Keisaku nor Hana had ever worried about how their son
would spend the money, for they knew that most of it would be
used to buy books and presents for his brother and sisters when
he returned home for the holidays. Seiichird was not at all an
impetuous youth and would never squander money to buy the
favors of geishas or to pay for expensive visits to a house of as-
signation.
On the other hand, Fumio’s demands were puzzling. In the first
place, a girl about to be married should not be spending her
father’s money so freely. Secondly, she described in detail the
exact sum she needed and how she planned to spend it. Seiichird
had never asked for a particular amount of money, although he
would send an urgent letter by special delivery if the amount
forwarded had been too small. Whenever that happened, Hana
would nervously send a larger sum than he could possibly use. As
for Fumio, she wrote the exact cost of each item and requested a
given total. That in itself was all right, but Fumio, who was a
lavish spender to begin with, listed each item and her reason for
wanting it. Furthermore, her requests for money came far more
frequently than her brother’s.
“Fumio has been leading quite an exciting life.”
“Really2”
“Yes, indeed. She says that since men and women have equal
rights, women should go to places frequented by men. Therefore,
she goes regularly to cafés.”
“Goodness! Does she really?”
“{ heard Fumio herself boast about it. She’s really amusing.”
“T don’t think it’s at all funny,” Hana retorted, silencing her
husband. Keisaku sheepishly shrugged his shoulders. After mov-
ing to the mansion in Masago-chd, he often found himself face
to face with his wife. Shortly before the family moved in, he
frantically bought off his mistress, who had been installed in a
uouse less than a block away. In deference to his wife, his amorous
 gid
2 Gas

dallyings became extremely discreet. While he was in Tokyo, the

clerks of the Lower House took care of official business, but Hana
saw to the more obscure duties of a politician which could not be
classified as business. In her capacity as the wife of Matani Keisaku,
Hana carried out her obligations admirably. In time she had
become indispensable to her husband, and so he listened carefully
to her opinions.
“Tt’s no joke.”
Keisaku’s expression suddenly grew serious, and he thoughtful-
ly folded his arms. He was not a heavy drinker, and therefore his
daughter’s words had amused him at the time. Now that he
thought again about her remarks, they certainly were not funny.
Leftist thought which was considered very dangerous was cur-
rently widespread among the young, especially among students.
It was foolish for Keisaku to have abandoned his daughter.
“Dear, you should start thinking about finding a husband for
Fumio.”
Being the daughter of Matani Keisaku, Fumio would not be
lacking in candidates for her hand, despite her reputation for being
somewhat wild. Almost immediately the name of an only son of
an old family in Hidaka County was mentioned as a prospective
bridegroom. Then, through an intermediary, the Sakai family of
Kaiso County asked if their second son, who would be setting up a
junior line, might have the hand of Keisaku’s daughter. For Fumio
to marry into the Sakai family would be an ideal means for recon-
ciling political rivals. ‘The two marriage offers were the results of
Keisaku, the Speaker of the Prefectural House, announcing during
a recess in the official proceedings:
“Do you know of anyone interested in marrying my daugh-
ter?”
Keisaku and Hana decided to reject the proposal from the Sakai
family; however, the Hidaka proposal sounded promising. As a
formality, photographs of Fumio had to be handed over.
“Hana, please go to Tokyo. You're better than I am at reason-
ing with Fumio.”
 gsc Fea

“No, I’m not, but I’ll try my best.”

That summer Hana made her way to Tokyo and saw the capital
of Japan for the first time in her life. Mrs. Tasaki came to greet
her at Tokyo Station and saw to it that she was comfortable
during her stay. A year had passed since the Great Kanto Earth-
quake and Tokyo had not yet been rebuilt to the extent that one
could go sightseeing. But, of course, Hana was far too busy to
pass the time in such a leisurely manner.
Fumio, who remained in Tokyo even during the summer vaca-
tion, worked together with other students to produce a coterie
magazine and was completely absorbed in writing articles. The
words “women’s rights” appeared frequently in her essays. A few
short stories were included in the journal, but it consisted mainly
of critical essays. All of Fumio’s articles expressed her feelings of
indignation toward a society dominated by men. In her essays,
written in a very involved literary style, she vehemently attacked
“members of the same sex who allow men to oppress them.”
Her articles, which were bitter attacks on the apathy of Japa-
nese women, described actual examples taken from society.
The Muraki-ya in Tameike had fortunately escaped being de-
stroyed by the fire that followed the earthquake. The guests
staying there were, without exception, respectable people. In
keeping with its guests, the inn itself—from the stepping stone at
the entrance to the fine quality wood of the corridors—was well
constructed. The place was immaculately clean, having been
wiped and dusted from corner to corner. However, Fumio’s
room was in a state of complete disorder. And it was so filthy
Hana could hardly believe it was a room in the Murakis’ inn.
Hana sighed and set down Women’s Rights. She saw at a glance
that the money for lessons in tea ceremony and flower arrange-
ment—which Fumio had promised to continue—had been
pocketed. The elegant writing table which Hana had personally
selected for Fumio looked as though it had not been dusted for
months. A cottonlike layer, far thicker than ordinary dust,
covered the table, on which were stacked several English-language
 a Rote

dictionaries. Scattered about the room were such magazines as

The Rehabilitation of Women, Japanese Women, and Women’s
Opinions.
Fumio was not in the habit of reading or writing at her elegant
writing table. Instead, she used as her desk a board balanced on
two tangerine crates. Even now she was seated at this makeshift
desk. Placing her hands on her lap, she declared:
‘Mother, I think you'll understand me better after you read
those magazines. I’m leading a full life as a student, you know.”
Fumio was brimming with self-confidence. The expensive
formal kimono she had slung over her shoulders was torn at the
shoulder and lap. Hana could not imagine how her daughter had
managed to tear her kimono in such unlikely places.
Hana was not one to nag. She remained silent and promptly
set to work putting the room in order. When she asked one of the
maids to bring her a broom and some rags, the proprietress, very
much flustered, came rushing in.
“Madame, please tell us what you would like to have done.
I'll have the maids do the actual cleaning.”
Thinking of all the trouble Fumio must have caused at the
Muraki-ya by inviting her classmates over and making a noise
well into the night, Hana politely declined the offer. Getting
Fumio to help, she began the onerous task of cleaning the room.
When she opened the closet, a stench struck her nose. Month
after month Fumio had thrown her soiled undergarments into
the willow luggage. ~
Without telling Fumio the reason for her visit, Hana took her
the very next day to Mitsukoshi department store in Nihombashi.
At the beauty parlor, Hana had Fumio’s casual bun combed out
and put up into a fashionable young girl’s coiffure with a part-
ing. Fumio sat very still, letting the hairdresser do her hair. How-
ever, she was bathed in a cold sweat when the woman scraped her
scalp and lice began to fall off. But the middle-aged hairdresser
wore a cool, professional look on her face as she solemnly combed
out the girl’s hair.
 SSR 137 Soe

Fumio was dressed formally in a long-sleeved kimono of silk

gauze which Hana had hurriedly had made at Takashimaya in
Osaka. The two women then walked up to the portrait studio.
Fumio had until then been practically paralyzed with embarrass-
ment after having her mother see the slovenly life she led. Upon
entering the studio, however, she began to grow suspicious.
When the picture-taking session was over, Fumio asked, some-
what belatedly:
“Mother, is this a marriage-interview photograph?”
“Yes, replied Hana brusquely. So openly did she show her
displeasure that Fumio was rendered speechless.
Hana ordered ten prints each of the photographs of Fumio in a
kimono with a design of paulownia and phoenixes tied with a
sash of embossed brocade. One pose had her standing facing the
camera, showing her from head to toe; another showed her at an
angle facing forward; and a third, at an angle from the back. Hana
left instructions for the prints to be forwarded to Wakayama.
Hana and Fumio then made their way out of the department store
and set out briskly for the Tasaki mansion.
“Thank you very much for coming out to welcome me,” said
Hana to Mrs. Tasaki by way of a greeting.
“Is that you, Fumio? What a delightful surprise! Why, you
look lovely!”
Seeing the girl for the first time dressed up so formally, Mrs.
Tasaki stared in wide-eyed surprise. Hana explained that they
had just come from having Fumio’s formal photographs taken.
Mrs. Tasaki thought to herself that Hana was after all provin-
cial. The latest coiffure with the hair coming down over the
ears would have been far more becoming to Fumio, who was
rather large. Nevertheless, she complimented Fumio.
“What an exquisite kimono! Fumio, it’s so much more pleas-
ing for a young girl to behave like a lady.”
As far as Mrs. Tasaki could judge, Fumio did not care in the
least about her appearance. Generous girl that she was, Fumio
was also of a carefree disposition, and even when she visited the
 look

Tasakis, she did not change into more formal attire. Every time
she saw Fumio, Mrs. Tasaki would draw her attention to her cas-
ual appearance, but even she had failed to get the girl to change
her habits.
The beautician had powdered her face lavishly, and so Fumio
was appropriately made up for paying a formal call. Mrs. Tasaki
mentally compared Fumio with her mother and discovered that
there was a striking resemblance in their features. Nonetheless,
it amazed her that the two women impressed one so differently.
The glowing beauty with which the forty-nine-year-old Hana
was endowed was entirely lacking in her twenty-one-year-old
daughter.
“I wanted above all to have Fumio marry before she turned
twenty-one. However, it was difficult to accomplish this, since
I was in Wakayama and Fumio was here in Tokyo.”
Hana did not disclose the fact that there had been a proposal
from Hidaka. Instead, she tactfully asked Mrs. Tasaki for her
help in finding a suitable husband for her daughter.
“Why, of course. Please let me have the formal photographs
of Fumio,” said Mrs. Tasaki in a youthful-sounding voice,
although she was more than ten years older than Hana. Hana
did not take Mrs. Tasaki’s request for the photographs seriously,
as she had only spoken to her out of politeness and had no real
intention of enlisting the woman’s help.
The two women—one speaking in the Tokyo dialect and the
other in the Wakayama dialect—chatted for a while longer.
Utterly bored, Fumio looked away. She was feeling wretched,
for the sash had been tied much too tightly around her chest,
making it difficult for her to swallow the sweets which had
been served.
Politely refusing the invitation to stay to dinner, Hana and
Fumio returned to the Muraki-ya. No sooner had Fumio entered
her room than she began to remove her long-sleeved kimono.
She was on the verge of making insulting remarks about the silly
attire. However, seeing that her mother was silent, she thought
 el39""*

it best not to say a word. After slipping into her informal kimono,
Fumio noticed her mother was seated properly in a corner of the
room. She looked down at her feet and saw the Takashimaya
folding case, into which she knew she had to fold away the layers
of kimono she had thrown off. They were damp with perspira-
tion, and so the proper thing for her to do would have been to
air them on a clothes rack overnight before putting them away.
However, she was too careless to remember this. As she folded
first the silk gauze underrobe, then the silk gauze long-sleeved
kimono, Fumio felt utterly disgusted with so impractical an outfit.
Was she not trying to break away from the wretched condition
of women in the past, who, dressed in such confining robes, had
been unable to express themselves? Nevertheless, intimidated by
her mother, who never questioned the past, Fumio was unable
to express her defiance. As she folded the kimono in a careless
manner, she thought of how she would love to have her mother
see the revolutionary gym outfit which the Ochanomizu Wom-
en’s College had recently adopted. The paper case rustled as
she stuffed the garments into it.
Now that she had done what was expected of her, Fumio rose
to her feet. Feeling ill at ease in the same room as her mother, she
began to rearrange at random the books in her bookcase. Sud-
denly glancing back, she saw that Hana had opened the paper
case and was neatly folding the long-sleeved kimono. Fumio
stood perfectly still as she watched with intense aversion the
elegant movement of Hana’s hands. A girl who rebels against her
mother usually finds it unbearable to realize that she is no match
for the older woman, and Fumio was no exception. Biting her
lip, she gazed down at her mother with a strange, piercing look.
After all the trouble they had gone through, the photographs of
Fumio, which were forwarded to Wakayama, were of no im-
mediate use. Fumio firmly told her father, who had made his way
to Tokyo upon his wife’s return home, that she absolutely re-
fused to have anything to do with an arranged marriage.
“The thought that my marriage would unite our family with
 ta

that old Hidaka family fills me with revulsion. If you force me to

go through with the marriage interview, I swear I'll become a
newspaper reporter and earn my own living. It'll be a good
chance for me to prove that equal rights means economic equality
as well.”
The ten sets of photographs were passed on to interested parties
and by autumn a number of proposals had come in from the main
branches of distinguished families and important landowners in
Yamato and Shikoku, all of which were rejected.
“What is a landowner? Father, you're a landowner, and so the
blood of a landowner runs in my veins. What a disgrace! Land-
owners have for generations stashed away in their storehouses the
wealth resulting from the hard labor of tenant farmers and have
thus led a life of idle luxury. Besides which, I have grave doubts
about the Seiytikai. Isn’t it just a group of wealthy landowners?”
‘Don’t joke like that. Why, look at all the work I do! Every
group I’ve organized—whether it’s the Water Utilization As-
sociation or the Citrus Fruit Association—has been with the
welfare of the farmers in mind. I’m kept busy every single day
carrying out my duties.”
“You know, Father, I really respected you when I was in
Wakayama. I thought then that through politics you were striv-
ing to bring happiness to the people. But my thinking has
changed since I came to Tokyo. Father, if you are sincere about
wanting to go into politics, you have to start from scratch.”
“That’s nonsense!”
“What is politics? The old Seiyikai split into the Seiya Party
and the new Seiytkai. What was the reason for this division?
Wasn't it a fight for power among its members? The people have
been excluded altogether from politics.”
“Fumio. Let’s discuss this calmly. You keep talking about
politics, but I’m not a member of parliament . . .”
“Mother says that you'll be a minister of state one day. A
minister of state is a politician, isn’t he? You're a politician, all
right.”
 al

“Don’t say such cruel things! I’m not the great man your
mother thinks I am.”
Keisaku, who had no trouble directing the members of the
Prefectural House to do as he wished, had a difficult time indeed
handling his daughter.

“You were absolutely right, Hana. We made a terrible mistake

sending Fumio to Tokyo. When I told her I was taking her back
with me, she said we should think of her as having left home
permanently.”
“If that’s so, why did she send a telegram asking for more
money?”
“What? Has she already sent a telegram?”
“It arrived just before your return.”
After her graduation from the Girl’s School, Kazumi remained
at home and devoted herself to mastering the home-making arts.
Utae, her younger sister, did not seem to have any interest in
continuing her formal studies after leaving school. The Matanis
received a request from an old Yamato family asking for Kazumi
if Fumio were not available. Keisaku and Hana were at a loss, as
it sounded like an excellent match for Kazumi. However, they
feared that Fumio’s future would be dark indeed if she, the eldest
daughter, were not married off first.
“Please go once more to Tokyo to fetch her home.”
“She wouldn’t come—not unless I dragged her home bound
and gagged.”
When she parted with her daughter in Tokyo, Hana had
instinctively sensed that Fumio’s rebelliousness was raging like a
storm inside her. It was now beyond her power to force her
daughter to return home. Whenever Keisaku and Hana found
themselves alone, they spoke of Fumio and went to bed without
deciding what to do with her. People from good families still
frowned upon the career woman. Hana had been familiar with
the term “old maid” for many years. The thought that her
aaughter would become a career woman and eventually an old
 AD

maid nearly broke her heart. Night after night she lay awake,
listening to her husband’s even breathing. Kazumi and Utae,
constantly reprimanded for no good reason, were puzzled by their
mother’s strange behavior, little knowing that Hana was going
through menopause and was therefore unable to keep her ir-
ritability under control.
One morning a personal letter arrived from Mrs. Tasaki
addressed to both Keisaku and Hana. Written on rolled letter
paper in an elegant hand was a conventional greeting. Mrs. Tasaki
then mentioned a bright young man by the name of Harumi
Eiji, an employee of Shokin Bank where their son-in-law worked.
A friend of their son-in-law since they had been students together
in the First High School and Tokyo Imperial University, he often
visited the Tasakis. Whenever Fumio happened to visit while he
was there, she had observed that the two young people got along
very well. She had discreetly investigated the Harumi family and
found that the family was in no way inferior, although they did
not own as much property as the Matanis. Moreover, the young
man’s character was pleating and his future extremely bright.
Her husband had said repeatedly that if Eiji were to be the bride-
groom, he would be delighted to serve as go-between. Mrs. Tasaki
concluded her letter by saying that ever since she had been asked
by Hana, she had been on the lookout for a suitable husband for
Fumio.
At the breakfast table, from which rose the delicious smell of
white miso soup, Keisaku finished reading Mrs. Tasaki’s letter
and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. He was over fifty
and was turning gray. His face, with its strong chin, suggested a
dignity which was in keeping with his age. Using his chopsticks
to help himself to some pickled radish from the bow] in the middle
of the table, he brought the radish directly into his mouth and
crunched it noisily.
Hana had been taught a different set of table manners. When
one helped oneself to anything from a large serving dish, one first
placed the food on a small individual dish before putting it into
 a 443

one’s mouth. Hana frowned with displeasure at her husband’s

rough and ready manners. They would soon be celebrating their
silver wedding anniversary, but the degree of refinement of the
Matani family had yet to reach the level of the Kimotos. Feeling
very irritated, Hana read the letter which her husband had handed
over to her.
“He sounds like a promising young man.”
“I wonder if a person born and raised in Tokyo and a girl like
Fumio could be happy together.”
“I personally would not want Fumio to marry a man who is
not from these parts.”
“We'll have to think seriously about how far away she'll be, if
she marries him.”
Both Keisaku and Hana were opposed to the match. Neverthe-
less, they could not very well turn down this proposal unless they
had a better offer or one which was likely to be accepted. In view
of the goodwill that Mrs. Tasaki had for them, it would be ex-
tremely awkward to reject the offer after having mentioned the
business to her in the first place.
“Hana, you answer her letter.”
“Tl try my best.”
However, before Hana could do so, they received a special
delivery letter from Fumio. She had dashed off carelessly on the
envelope: “Mr. Keisaku Matani. Personal.”’ Her husband was not
at home, and so Hana broke the seal of the envelope. She was
completely taken aback by what Fumio had written in bold
strokes on three sheets of stationery. Here and there—between
such phrases as “the wretchedness of each day,” “freedom in
love,” “freedom in marriage,” “the new age,” and “‘the passion
of youth”—was written the name Harumi Eiji. Hana read the
letter through, scarcely believing her eyes. Fumio had by chance
met her ideal man. This man, Harumi Eiji, was a close friend of
the Tasaki son-in-law. After hearing from Mrs. Tasaki that Eiji
regarded her with special kindness, she had spent many a sleepless
uight tormented by a passion which welled up from the depths of
her being. Eiji was a promising young man who dreamed of going
abroad. There was no doubt in her mind that they were com-
patible in every way. She was informing her father of their love,
hoping that he would give them his blessing. If he turned down
the young man after looking into his family background, she
could not predict at this point just what drastic step she would
take. The tone of her letter was threatening.
“This is tragic! She is really infatuated,” declared Keisaku,
amused by the letter.
Noticing Hana’s look of distress, he turned serious, stating that
since he was planning to go to Tokyo for business, he would leave
a little early and personally speak to Mrs. Tasaki about the whole
affair. Hana cast her eyes downward and in a thin voice beseeched
him to do so. Once again Hana was tormented by feelings of deep
remorse that Fumio had not been married off immediately after
her graduation.
Mrs. Tasaki greeted Keisaku in Tokyo. The first thing she said
was that Fumio had definitely made up her mind. Therefore, there
was no other way to settle.the matter than to allow the couple to
marry. Smiling sweetly, she explained that everything had taken
place just as she had described it in her letter. The two young
people extolled equal rights and freedom in love. However, they
had been brought up in a society where the position of men and
women was not equal. Neither Eiji nor Fumio had ever been
intimately involved with anyone else of the opposite sex. In her
opinion, they were made for each other.
“T really think they make an ideal couple.”
Mrs. Tasaki wore a triumphant look on her face. Keisaku could
not help but feel that here indeed was a politician’s wife. After
listening once again to a detailed description of Eiji’s personal
character, he became quite enthusiastic about the match. Mrs.
Tasaki took care of all the arrangements and personally saw to
Keisaku’s meals during his stay. One night, Keisaku invited Eiji
and the Tasakis’ son-in-law to a restaurant. At first, he had doubts
about Eiji, a fair, good-looking young man who seemed highly
 x 45.5°*

intelligent. Nonetheless, Keisaku, who was practically a teetotaler,

was quick to approve of the man when he saw that Eiji was a
strong drinker.
The elaborate wedding ceremony which united the Matani and
the Harumi families was held in the Imperial Hotel in Hibiya on
February 21 of the following year. Tasaki Yusuke, who had
been appointed minister of agriculture on the seventeenth of that
month, and his wife served as the official go-betweens. The guest
list for the wedding. which united the eldest daughter of a man
of influence in Wakayama and the second son of a poor family
of samurai lineage of Tokyo, was most impressive. The family
status of the Harumis was certainly not inferior to that of the
Matanis, judging from the relatives of the family who offered
their congratulations. For the most part, the relatives were govern-
ment officials and scholars. Among the friends of the Matani
family who spoke on behalf of the bride’s family were members
of the peerage in Wakayama and members of parliament.
The mother of the bride had every reason to be completely
satisfied with all the arrangements. Nevertheless, Hana was not
altogether happy and bowed her head in embarrassment through-
out the Western-style banquet. Not to be outshone by the mag-
nificence of the wedding garments, clothes she was unaccus-
tomed to fitting over her ample figure, the bride sat next to the
groom with her head held high and listened attentively to the
speeches. The attitude of the bride and that of her mother were
indeed a study in contrasts.
Ejiji’s father was an architect, but his stern countenance gave him
the appearance of a scholar of Chinese classics. A stubborn old
man, he looked as though he could easily tackle the young couple
head on if necessary. On the other hand, Fumio’s mother-in-law
was a tiny woman with soft features. Hana was greatly relieved
that Fumio had not married the eldest son. It would have been a
disaster for such a kind and gentle mother-in-law to live together
with a bride as rebellious as Fumio. Hana could just imagine the
uproar in the household if Fumio found herself confronted by
 piso’
tf tae

anyone who argued back at her. Fortunately, Eiji was the second
son. If he continued to work for Shokin Bank, which specialized
in foreign exchange, the couple would be spending a great deal
of time abroad, thereby avoiding serious discord in the Harumi
family.
Under the glittering chandeliers, the white tablecloth appeared
especially dazzling. Hana recalled the details of her own wedding
following the long journey to Musota, part of the way by boat
and the rest of the way in a palanquin. How different was her
daughter’s wedding! Moreover, Fumio had ignored altogether
Hana’s wishes. All that Hana had done was to select her daughter’s
dowry and order her bridal kimonos and trousseau.
Hana had of course been as extravagant as she pleased in getting
Fumio ready. Less than half a year had elapsed since the exchange
of engagement presents, and so Hana had not been able to order a
dowry as elaborate as her own. Nonetheless, she felt that the least
she could do was to order all the kimonos her daughter would
ever need for both daily wear and formal occasions. She had
several outfits made for each of the four seasons and they would
last for the next twenty years, even if Fumio did not look after
them properly. Hana was completely satisfied, because she had
personally seen to all the details that went into the making of the
kimonos. Since the wedding of the Crown Prince the year before,
phoenixes and embossed chrysanthemums headed the list of
kimono designs currently in vogue. The dowry items, from
cushions and bedding to the canvas chest covers, had the chrysan-
themum design. Phoenixes were displayed along the lower half
of the kimonos.
The Harumi crest, consisting of double arrows on a tortoise
shell, was most appropriate for descendants of a samurai family.
Inquiring about the crest for the women in the family, Hana had
been told by Eiji’s mother that it was a plum-blossom crest. She
had the kimono dealer weave curtains with the two contrasting
crests, but they did not harmonize well, the crests having nothing
in common. A family crest with this kind of arrow indicated the
 cs Ve

Mori family line, while the plum blossom indicated a family

related in some way to the Sugawara family. In the maternal line
of the Harumi family, might there have been a descendant of a
family with a plum-blossom crest? But even while Hana was
considering this possibility, she decided on the ivy crest for her
daughter.
Hana was fairly certain that Fumio’s mother-in-law would not
be fussy about the bride’s crest, for Fumio was marrying the
second son. In choosing the ivy crest, Hana was probably express-
ing her hope that her proud and independent daughter would
cling to her husband like ivy. She may also have been expressing
her unhappiness, as the marriage had been arranged with hardly
any thought given to her wishes. Vibrant colors in the urban style
had been selected for Fumio’s long-sleeved kimono. It was
customary in Wakayama for the bride to wear black at the end
of the ceremony; however, Fumio wore instead a celadon green
kimono of Yazen silk embossed with colorful ivy leaves. The
kimono, decorated tastefully with embroidery and gold thread,
was truly magnificent.
In spite of all the effort Hana had put into the bridal garments,
they failed to impress the guests. On the contrary, the guests were
overwhelmed by the ample proportions of the bride, who, in con-
trast to the stylish bridegroom, was five foot four inches tall and
weighed 150 pounds. Fumio’s failure to impress the guests was
no doubt due to the fact that she was unhappy about having to
dress up so elaborately. Fumio lacked altogether the ability to feel
at ease in a lovely kimono. Eiji had said that Japanese women
were at a disadvantage at parties given abroad because of their
small build. Hana sighed and wondered whether Eiji had chosen
Fumio because of her impressive size.
The home of the newlyweds, in Omori, south of Tokyo, was a
little too extravagant for a mere bank employee and his young
wife. It had been bought by the Matanis, who had agreed to
provide money for monthly expenses and the salaries of the
maids. Eiji was virtually an adopted son-in-law from the financial
 sek
To ain

point of view. But it was not at all unusual at this time for promis-
ing young men in the diplomatic corps, the Ministry of Finance,
the Bank of Japan, and Shodkin Bank to marry girls whose dowry
came in the form of money. Both Keisaku and Eiji regarded the
financial arrangement as being a matter of course. As for Fumio,
she was far too busy to question the arrangement. Beside herself
with excitement, she tossed aside all the principles she had upheld
for so long. In spite of all her boasting, she was, after all, a girl
who had never experienced hardship. She had regarded with
distaste the thought of marrying the son of a well-established
family and had chosen for herself a man with no property. As far
as she could see, there was no contradiction in their becoming the
owner of a new house that had been bought by her parents.
While the young couple were on their honeymoon, Hana re-
turned with her husband toWakayama. She felt thoroughly de-
pressed and quite unable to feel a mother’s joy in seeing her
daughter safely married. Aware of Hana’s emotional state, Kei-
saku was very solicitous. He would invite her to join him in the
dining car and would occasionally turn to address his wife as he
viewed the scenery from the window. This was probably his way
of making amends for having sorely neglected her for so long.
“Eiji appears to be a strong drinker,’ commented Hana, ex-
pressing her anxiety. Her statement was totally unrelated to what
Keisaku had been saying to her.
“He is, all right. I wish I could drink like that.”
“You should have cautioned Fumio. A young man shouldn’t
drink too much.”
“Don’t worry. A man who loves his drink will never get in
trouble with other women.”
Keisaku ordered cider or tea at banquets, because he could
hardly drink a half pint of saké. Nonetheless, he had a scandalous
record of amorous dallyings. The men gossiped about him, mar-
veling that he could make passes at women by simply fortifying
himself with tea. Rumor had it that his wife had learned about
his indiscretions and that he had been forced to reform. He was
 se. tae

remarkably good-natured about it all. Actually, Hana had never

rebuked her husband to his face. Nor had she ever, in a fit of
jealous rage, confronted and challenged any of the geishas with
whom her husband was amorously involved. Keisaku had prob-
ably embroidered the facts to amuse his companions, thus start-
ing such gossip.
“What a fright I had when she found out about my affair. I
can’t look her in the eyes any more. Come and see what it’s like
at my house. Why, I’m treated like an adopted son!”’
Keisaku was amused by his own stories. But as his view of
life became more and more optimistic, Hana grew increasingly
gloomy.

“Look! That’s the River Oi,” cried Keisaku and he began to

hum the well-known tune about the river. Still in high spirits
over his daughter’s wedding, he was very much conscious that
he was traveling along the Tokaido with his wife. Hana, however,
found it impossible to match his cheerful mood.
“What a drab river!”
Along the Tokaidd, they passed a number of rivers—the
Tenryi, the Kiso, and the Yodo. At night they finally arrived
in Osaka. None of the rivers had the depth and beauty of color
to charm Hana.
“Dear.”
“Yes. What is it?”
“T don’t think I’ve seen any other river as beautiful as the Ki.”
“You're probably right,” said Keisaku, rather bored; he
tapped his mouth with his hand as he yawned.

Shortly after their return to Musota, Kosaku’s daughter fell

into the Narutaki River and was drowned. Misono, who had
turned eighteen, set out one spring morning and failed to return
home that night. Ume was frantic with worry and Kosaku was
livid. The next morning they were notified that their daughter’s
body had been found. Suicide was out of the question, and the
 see 1) ate

autopsy showed that she had not been murdered. It was generally
believed that she had suddenly slipped and fallen into the river
while strolling along the river’s bank that evening. However,
the Narutaki flowed between Sonobe and Kusumi, and it was
thought strange that on that particular night Misono had been
strolling along the banks of a river located some distance away
from Musota. The villagers, their voices hushed in fear, said the
poor girl had probably been possessed by a fox. There actually was
a place in Musota known as the Fox’s Grave. According to the
old folks, it was haunted. And yet no one had ever died as a result
of being possessed by a fox.
A funeral for the only daughter of the branch family, taking
place immediately after the wedding of the eldest daughter of
the main family, was enough to make even people who were
not blood relations feel uneasy. Summoning a ricksha, Hana
left at once for Shin’ike and saw to the details of the funeral, sub-
stituting for the girl’s grief-stricken parents. Appropriate words
of consolation eluded her. Finding it painful to look at Kosaku,
who in his grief stared at the floor and was oblivious to her pres-
ence, Hana kept herself occupied and gave instructions to the
servants dispatched from the main house. In deference to the main
family, the villagers came to offer incense. However, Hana found
herself too busy to sit quietly with the other members of the
bereaved family.
Hana felt sure that the grief-stricken Kosaku, mourning the
death of his only daughter, would look up at any moment and
impale her with one of his sarcastic comments. Strangely enough,
she, for her part, had completely forgotten the ill-feeling she had
harbored against her brother-in-law all these years and was at
a loss as to how to console him.
Hana remained in Agenogaito until after the funeral service.
She had been away from her old home for quite a while. When
the Matanis moved to Wakayama City, the Matsuis, a young
couple, had come to look after their house. Mr. Matsui was em-
ployed in the Prefectural Government Office.
 Baile

“You must be simply exhausted. After all, you’ve only just

returned from Tokyo.”
“Not at all. It isn’t physical fatigue, you know. It’s just my
mind that’s distracted by all this anxiety. The sensation is really
quite strange.”
A low-watt electric light bulb hung from the ceiling of the
kitchen. Having made plans to return to the city the next morn-
ing, Hana relaxed as she and the Matsuis peeled the tangerines
that had come from a tree which grew in the grounds of the
Masago-ch6 mansion. The tangerine was as big as a summer
orange, but the peel was of a lighter, more delicate hue. Held
in the palm of one’s hand, it was much lighter in weight than a
summer orange and was shaped differently at the top. Grown
in the southern part of the prefecture, almost exclusively in Tasu-
kawa in Arida County, it was the best variety of tangerine. The
fruit itself, which Hana was very fond of, was small; it was also
tender and delicately sweet. As soon as she moved to Masago-cho,
she had had a branch grafted to the tree in the back garden, which
from the year before had begun to bear the delicious fruit. She
had earlier asked someone to take some of the tangerines to Ks-
saku and his wife. At Shin’ike, however, she had been unable
to say anything to Kosaku and had spoken to Ume only. In the
end, afraid of offending the grief-stricken couple in any way,
she had brought the fruit back with her to Agenogaito.
“It’s delicious!’ exclaimed Mrs. Matsui after tasting it.
“They were at their best about a month ago—so much juicier.”
As she slipped a piece of tangerine into her mouth, Hana re-
flected upon the hectic month she had just lived through. The
loneliness experienced by a mother who had given her daughter
away in marriage was like the bittersweet but dry taste of tan-
gerines that were no longer at their best but were still pleasing
to the palate.
Later that day, Hana lay down in bed and suddenly felt intense-
ly lonely. She now realized that Fumio was a member of another
family. She had once deeply regretted allowing her daughter
 ag 1)

to leave home and letting her attend Tokyo Women’s College,

but that emotion was not at all like this empty feeling. Despite
Fumio’s rebelliousness and harsh words, there had been a strong
bond between mother and daughter which had been severed
once and for all.
Hana once again recalled the events of twenty-five years ear-
lier. She understood with utmost clarity Toyono’s reason for
not having made the formal visit to the new bride and not hav-
ing attended the banquet. If Fumio’s reception had been held at
the Harumi residence instead of at the Imperial Hotel and if
Fumio had married the eldest son, Hana would have felt doubly
forlorn. She tried to alleviate her wretchedness with these
thoughts which whirled through her head, but they made her
feel all the more miserable. Tears began to trickle down from
the corners of her eyes.
Hana wept silently for some time. She then collected herself
and went to the lavatory. The weather was already warm, and
so even at night the corridor did not feel cold against the soles
of her bare feet. On her way back to the bedroom, a strange
light in the garden shrubbery caught her eye. The Matanis had
been in the habit of leaving the shutters open from April on, as
sliding glass doors had been installed along the inner corridor.
Hana paused and focused her eyes on a bluish white light which
moved slowly along the base of the greenery. It was the body
of a huge snake which appeared to be at least two inches in dia-
meter. Neither its head not its tail was visible But its scales glit-
tered as it moved. This must be the white snake which made its
home in the ridge of the storehouse at the other end of the garden,
Hana thought. She had often heard from Yasu and the villagers
that this snake was the true master of the Matani household.
Nonetheless, Hana had not seen it with her own eyes in all these
years. Feeling neither frightened nor squeamish, she wondered
why the snake alone appeared so vivid when everything else—
the trees, the stone lantern, and the garden rocks—was indis-
tinguishable in the darkness.
 isd shake

Hana reported the incident upon her return to Masago-cho.

Keisaku remarked:
“Oh? I’ve seen it just twice. It’s huge, about six feet long.
But it’s gentle and wouldn’t harm a soul.”
Looking miniscule in the thick bedding, Yasu had her eyes
closed.
“Did you really see the snake? I’ve seen it twice. It’s about
six feet long. But it’s perfectly harmless. There’s no danger in
letting it live in the storehouse.”
Yasu repeated the story ad nauseam. She was nearly ninety-
one years old and completely senile. During the past year she
had been confined to bed much of the time. She expressed her
deep regret that she had been unable to attend Fumio’s wedding
in Tokyo. Then, as though she had forgotten completely about
the wedding, she remarked to Hana that unless they quickly
found a husband for Fumio, her marriage would be delayed.
This delay would result in grave consequences.
Yasu had been startled when first informed of Misono’s death,
but three days later she had forgotten all about the tragic drown-
ing. This was probably because she had never been very close
to Misono. The old woman took great pleasure in talking about
her girlhood memories and the first few years after becoming
mistress of the Matani family. She promptly forgot whatever
she was told, but the white snake was an exception. She never
seemed to grow weary of relating the incident to the maids who
looked after her and to her three married daughters, who came
to visit her.
“Mother’s telling the story about the snake again,” reported the
eldest daughter, who had married into a family in Nishinosho.
She herself was old enough to have grandchildren and her wrin-
kled face was the exact image of her mother’s.
“Not again! Every time I visit her, she repeats that story.”
“Hana, do you think her end is near? This is a sure sign of se-
nility.”
She then told Hana that, according to family tradition, the ap-
 saat oe

pearance of the snake foretold a death in the family.

“Surely it appeared because of Misono’s tragic death. Mother’s
still very healthy.”
“Hana,” said Yasu with a sigh. “I am truly grateful to you for
treating me so kindly. In my old age, I’ve complained to you
whenever I felt like it. No matter when I die, I’ll die a peaceful
death. I prefer you to my own daughters and feel more at ease
in your company.”
“You can’t mean that.”
“Oh, yes she does. Mother says so all the time.”
Hana bowed her head in silence. A wave of happiness swept
over her. A woman who succeeded in winning the affection of
her mother-in-law had the family under her control. Any woman
would be proud of such an achievement.
And yet Hana would probably never have complete control
over her own daughter. On the morning of the seventh day after
Misono’s death in the river, Hana set out by ricksha for Musota.
Inserted in her tea green sash, which she herself had tied, was a
letter from Fumio received five days earlier. It was the first letter
from her daughter since her wedding. Overcome by nostalgia,
Hana had unsealed the envelope, only to have her eager antici-
pation melt into disillusionment.
Fumio’s letter, which began with a masculine salutation, at-
tacked Hana as before.

I have married a mere bank employee, but his future

is bright. He and I will not be shackled to the past, since
he is not from a distinguished family with an impressive
name and farmlands handed down from generation to
generation. Our motto is ‘a modern life-style.’ Therefore,
I am returning the many useless items included in my
dowry.
Was it necessary for Fumio to be so blunt and cruel? She
might have said that since some of the things in her dowry were
not needed and would be in the way in their tiny new home,
 malo

she was sorry but she was returning them. There was a world of
difference in the two statements, even though they meant the same
thing. Fumio added that she was sending the things to Musota;
and, the day before, Mr. Matsui had notified Hana of their arrival.
Before making her way to Shin’ike, Hana entered the gate
of the Agenogaito house to see what had been returned. Small
green buds were burgeoning on the branches of the persimmon
tree. It was spring and Hana’s heart grew tranquil.
“What a lovely day,” Hana said cheerfully. Mrs. Matsui was
sewing near the entrance to the house.
“Tm sorry to trouble you with all these things.”
There were several carelessly packed crates and parcels in as-
sorted shapes and sizes, all wrapped in straw matting. They had
been left untouched on the concrete floor of the entrance. Hana
immediately summoned two tenant farmers and had them unpack
the crates and parcels. The following items appeared: a decorative
mirror stand lacquered in the Kyoto style; a china chest for the
sitting room; a complete set of gold lacquer perfume containers;
a wickerwork trunk into which were stuffed Fumio’s long-sleeved
bridal kimono and a long scarlet underrobe of figured crape;
and a koto.
“Oh, dear. Look at that wicked crack!” Mrs. Matsui knit her
brows and wiped with a towel the damaged part of the priceless
lacquered box.
“These were packed all wrong in the first place. The cord
wasn’t even tied tightly,” muttered one of the men indignantly.
“Please bring them in here after you've dusted them off,”
requested Hana weakly. When the men had left, Hana smiled
wanly at Mrs. Matsui.
“Would you please help me put the things away in the store-
house?”
“I'd be happy to,” Mrs. Matsui replied. An experienced seam-
stress, she suggested that the kimonos be aired before being stored
away.
“That’s a good idea,” said Hana. In her wretchedness, she
 chs
Lo Geode

moved about sluggishly. Mrs. Matsui, however, was hard at

work. After quickly opening the paper cases, she spread out
Fumio’s wedding kimonos in one of the larger rooms.
“This kimono is really lovely. What perfect taste! The villagers
are so sad they weren't able to see Fumio’s wedding. Madame,
may I show the neighbors the kimonos?”
“No, surely not. It wouldn’t do to have the main house in a
joyful mood when the branch family is in mourning.”
The koto which had been returned was the very one Hana had
brought with her from Kudoyama. The gold lacquer design along
its side panels was old-fashioned. If it could talk, it would have
much to say to anyone who plucked its strings. This was the
koto Hana had played for Fumio in the storehouse.
Hana vividly recalled the time she had struck the back of
Fumio’s hand causing her to bleed. She had given the instrument
to her daughter because of the unpleasant memory associated with
it and she had hoped that Fumio would one day develop a taste
for elegance. Hana was therefore stunned and filled with great
sadness to see the koto back here.
“Madame, we could put these things away when you come
back from Shin’ike. Won’t you please join us for a light meal
before you go?”
Mrs. Matsui went off to prepare dinner. Hana seated herself
in front of the koto and, surrounded by the gorgeous kimonos,
wondered what Fumio’s children would be like.
“I wonder,” Hana Said listlessly as she took up her chopsticks
and mechanically brought the food to her lips.
RYes27
“T’ve been terribly worried lately.”
“You really haven’t been looking very well.”
“I wonder if Fumio is barren.”’
Mrs. Matsui, who was not from Musota, did not know Fumio
at all and was totally ignorant of the long-standing feud between
Hana and her daughter. Not knowing the circumstances under
which part of the dowry had been sent back, she gaily laughed
 a5 78"

and emphatically denied that Hana had anything to worry about.

“Madame, you shouldn’t think of such a possibility. Why,
it’s less than a month since the wedding!”
Hana realized how foolish she had been and smiled wryly,
although she continued to feel uneasy.
Hana’s anxiety, however, proved to be groundless. In early
summer she received word that Fumio was pregnant and that the
baby was due in December.
“That was fast,” remarked Keisaku, beaming happily. Hana’s
joy upon learning that she would soon be a grandmother was
no less than her husband’s, and she promptly sent her daughter
some motherly advice. Addressing herself to Eiji, she requested
that Fumio be allowed to return home for her first child, for she
truly felt that it was the wisest policy. She then asked Fumio to
come home to make a pilgrimage to Jison-in, reminding Fumio
of the ancient practice of presenting breast charms.
A letter arrived from Fumio by return post.
I am entrusting the birth of our child to the gyne-
cology ward of the Japanese Red Cross Hospital in
Aoyama Takagi-cho which is fully equipped with mod-
ern facilities. This is in keeping with the modern age.
I beg you not to confuse the child from the time of his
birth with superstition.
Fumio’s letter did not acknowledge Hana’s goodwill. She
had not taken into consideration the fact that “our child’’ was
Hana’s grandchild as well. However, Hana no longer grieved
over her daughter’s coldness and was quietly resigned to the fact
that Fumio was now a member of another family. After making
a pair of breast charms for her daughter, Hana, together with her
youngest child, Tomokazu, set out for Kudoyama which she
had not visited for well over ten years.
Hana and her son left their home in Masago-cho in a ricksha
and made their way to Wakayama Station where they boarded
a sooty train on the Wakayama Line. They traveled eastward
 ge atthe

along the banks of the River Ki to Hashimoto where they were

to transfer to another train. Along the way they passed Iwade,
Kokawa, and Kaseda, places which Hana would never forget.
At each of these places her wedding procession had stopped to
rest and each one brought back fond memories.
Tomokazu sat next to his mother. He moved his big body and
shifted his legs. Now in his fifth year at Wakayama Middle
School, he was planning to leave for Tokyo the following
year. Hana had brought him along in order to give him a good
chance to see more of the River Ki. It was clear, however, that
he was bored by the seemingly interminable train journey.
“Took, Tomokazu. See how beautiful the Ki is,” cried Hana.
“But it’s such a long way to Kudoyama, isn’t it?”” The boy
showed no interest at all in the scenery.
They had left Wakayama City that morning. Having arrived
in Hashimoto in the afternoon, they still had an hour to wait
before the arrival of the train on the Koya Line of Nankai Rail-
ways.
“Let’s go down by the riverside,” suggested Hana. She walked
down the slope with the happy look on her face of a woman visit-
ing her beloved parents.
Ona map the Wakayama Line appeared to be laid out along the
course of the River Ki; however, it was only occasionally possible
to catch a glimpse of the blue waters of the river from the train
window. Tiny villages and rice fields extended on both sides
between Kaseda and Hashimoto. At this time of year, the fields
were gradually turning gold and the waters of the river were at
a very low level. Hana could scarcely suppress her boundless
affection for the Ki.
“Tcan hear the sound of the river,” Tomokazu cried excitedly
from where he stood on the pebble-strewn riverbank. The Ki
here, near Nara Prefecture, was narrower than it was at Musota
downriver and so the stream was far stronger. The surface of the
river was a tranquil blue, but underneath the surface the current
swept the waters along with such force that the whole riverside
 teeee

reverberated with an unusual booming sound that rattled the

bones of Hana and her son.
“T traveled down this river in a boat when I first came to
Musota.”
“Yes, I’ve heard about that.”
Hana wanted to talk about the past, but the maids had already
told Tomokazu about the elaborate wedding procession. Mother
and son stood silently and gazed a long distance downriver. A
ghostly, bluish haze rose from the water and appeared to tint
the autumn sky. Not a cloud was in the sky.

Considering it her duty as a mother, Hana made her way to

Tokyo when Fumio was pregnant. She remained at her daughter’s
side and helped about the house. After recovering from morning
sickness, Fumio—though she did not have any feelings of nostal-
gia for her old home—developed a craving for certain Wakayama
delicacies. For breakfast she had white miso soup and Wakayama
pickled radish, cut lengthwise in the manner of Ki province. As
it was the season for bariko, Hana had brought a large quantity
of the dried fish for the Harumis. Fumio grilled two of the fish
three times a day and ate the entire fish, tail and all.
“How I’d love some Kada sea bream, Mother. It’s delicious
raw or in soup. I’m really tired of the terrible-tasting fish we have
here in Tokyo.”
“T think it’s the ocean current,” Hana answered. “I’ve never
had any really delicious fish in Tokyo. The Kada fish are raised
in the ocean near Naruto, and so they’re nice and firm. They’re
so tasty in sushi as well as in other dishes!”
“You're quite right! How I'd love to have some sushi from
home. Please ask Father to bring some with him when he comes
to Tokyo, Mother.”
“All right, dear.”
Ever since the wedding, Fumio had worked hard to be a
devoted wife. Now that she was pregnant, she felt utterly ex-
hausted from her efforts to please her husband and behaved like
 Oe

a spoiled child with her mother. Hana was greatly relieved to see
her daughter being her old self again and responded with ease
to her interminable chatter. Nonetheless, when Hana urged her
to clean the toilet, Fumio flatly refused.
“That’s a silly superstition! In this age of science, all you have
to do is follow the instructions of the obstetrician.”
Fumio added that prenatal care was far more effective than
cleaning the toilet, in order to havea pretty child. Every inch of
space in her bedroom was covered with photographs of Rudolph
Valentino and Mary Pickford.
“T concentrate on the photographs of Valentino, as I’m planning
on a boy. Eiji says that if the baby turns out to be a girl it should
look like Mary Pickford, the movie actress. And so he brought
home those photographs.”
It amused Hana to listen to Fumio explain with obvious dis-
pleasure the presence of the photographs of Pickford. She realized
that Fumio too was capable of being jealous. However, Hana
could not understand the so-called “prenatal care’ which called
for putting up photographs of movie stars with red hair and blue
eyes. It would have been far preferable to put up portraits of
Kabuki actors, such as Eisaburd and Fukusuke. At least they were
Japanese. But ever since their wedding, the main form of enter-
tainment for the young couple had been the latest foreign films.
Kazuhiko, Fumio’s first son, was born in late December. Lying
on immaculate white sheets in a room in the Red Cross Hospital,
Fumio proudly announced to her mother, who had come to visit:
“T’m not superstitious, but I’ve had a beautiful baby boy ”
For a brief moment there flashed through Hana’s mind an
image of the white breast charms on which she had written
“Fumio age 22.” However, she did not think it necessary to men-
tion the offering she had made at the Miroku Hall. Fast asleep in
a small crib next to Fumio’s bed was the newborn baby whose
soft, little body was bundled in a white comforter.
“He has a straight nose. Don’t you think he’s handsome like
his father?”
 eLOlya:

“I suppose he takes after Valentino.”

Fumio was very excited because it had been decided to send
Eiji abroad in late spring of the following year. The family
would soon be crossing the sea to a foreign country. Fumio spoke
to her mother of her future plans of raising her little son to be
modern in every way.
But all Hana would say was:
“Tl just wait and see how he turns out.”
Eiji’s first foreign assignment was the Shanghai branch of Sho-
kin Bank. In late spring of 1926—following the demise of
Emperor Taishd and Yasu’s death—the Harumis set sail from the
pier in Kobe Harbor and crossed the East China Sea.

That I should be crossing the sea to go to China a gen-

eration after you traveled down the River Ki is signi-
ficant. Unlike the blue of the Ki which is changeless
throughout the four seasons, the sea is constantly
changing from indigo to green then to a serene blue. As
we approached Shanghai, however, the waters turned a
murky, yellowish brown. The blue of the Ki cannot be
compared with the many colors of the sea. I have spoken
to Eiji about naming our second son Wataru.

Judging from her first letter from Shanghai, Fumio, married

for a year and the mother of a baby boy, seemed to have mel-
lowed considerably. But Hana had to forget about Fumio for a
while and attend to other important matters.

Kazumi was engaged to the son of the Kusumi family, an

old Yamato family, who had sought her hand for some time.
The wedding was scheduled to take place in the spring of 1927.
Hana took great pains to see that no mistake was made in uniting
the two families. She was determined that her second daughter’s
wedding would not be like Fumio’s: outwardly elaborate
but actually very simple in the eyes of a long-established family.
 oe AOe ka

“Tt wasn’t nearly as hectic when we had our daughter marry

a poor student,” sighed Keisaku, observing the chaotic wedding
preparations.
“If you think this is troublesome, you'll never be able to think
about the weddings of the other children.”
“True. I can’t very well tell them to choose their own mates
and elope, can 1?”
Keisaku could joke in this manner, but he was having prob-
lems of his own. Tasaki Yusuke, who had announced that he
would turn over his constituents to Keisaku, had encouraged him
to run in the coming election. Keisaku, who was fifty-three,
looked at his wife and smiled wryly.
“If I had wanted to become a member of parliament, I’d have
run twenty years ago. I have every intention to end my career
as Matani Keisaku of Wakayama. My dream is to develop the
various industries of Wakayama and improve the water and land
resources so that Wakayama will never be at the mercy of Osaka.
I mean, of course, the Water Utilization Association and the
Prefectural Agricultural Association.”
“Everything has turned out just as you planned.”
+ Precisely iklaas 7
“Yes, dear?”
“You've always built me up, saying that I’d one day become a
minister of state. I never shall, you know.”
“Don’t say that. Even now I think that you are as capable as
one
any minister.
“What a difficult woman you are!”
“To me, you’re a man who could have easily become a minister
but who chose instead to devote himself to Wakayama.”
“How well you put it!” Keisaku laughed.
Keisaku was fully aware of the fact that he had come this far
because of Hana’s encouragement. Half of his life had been spent
sailing down a smooth river with an elegant wife at his side who
had always conducted herself with dignity.
 LOS =*

“Ves, dear?”
“T’ve been thinking of taking formal lessons in the tea cere-
mony.”
“Why, that’s splendid!”
“Have the detached cottage renovated into a tea ceremony
cottage and never mind the cost.”
Hana had been getting together a group of ladies, including
Baroness Nanaura and the governor's wife, to practice the tea
ceremony and had formed a fashionable circle of high society
women. She immediately got in touch with her cousin, the may-
ors wife. Without any delay, Hana began to make plans for
the renovation. For a time, she lost herself in a dream of luxury.
Once the extravagant tea cottage was completed, the Masago-
cho mansion would serve as a meeting place for the ladies.
As this dream was slowly being realized, the National Diet
was dissolved in early 1928. Anticipating a general election in
February, both the Seiyttkai and the Minseitd began a vigorous
election campaign. Keisaku, who headed the Seiyikai in Waka-
yama, found himself having to decide on an immediate course
of action.
“Tt’s ridiculous to run for parliament at my age,” Keisaku de-
clared, with a wave of his hand.
However, he could no longer decline to run after Tasaki
Yusuke appointed him a member of the election committee.
“Hana, it looks as though I’m going to become a member of
parliament after all.”
“It was inevitable under the circumstances.”
Keisaku had just returned from a meeting at which it was de-
cided, in consultation with the party headquarters, that he would
run in the coming election.

On February 20, 1928, Matani Keisaku was elected a member

of parliament. Keisaku had been able to concentrate on his elec-
tion campaign, since all business matters had been entrusted to
his secretary, Otake, who had been with him since he entered
the prefectural government. Keisaku received an overwhelming
majority of the votes cast. He had raised the necessary funds by
selling some of his rice land in Musota. This was not at all sur-
prising, for he had long practiced the policy of investing his
own property to promote new plans sponsored by his various
associations.
“You know, Hana, I bought my fame with money,” he
admitted with a sad look on his face.
“Nonsense!”’ said Hana reproaching him. “It’s the land, rich
with the spirits of the Matani ancestors, that has given birth to
Matani Keisaku. If you must insist that you bought your fame, it
was with the land,” she declared with conviction.
Shortly afterward, they received lavish gifts from Shanghai
to commemorate the election victory. Keisaku received a T’ang
ink stick of fine quality and Hana, a luxuriously soft sash of
Chinese damask. They also received a letter from Eiji.
Unlike Fumio’s letters, Eiji’s letter was carefully worded. With
polite turns of phrase, he solemnly congratulated Keisaku upon
his victory. Now that Keisaku had been elected in the First General
Election, it was a new dawn for the Japanese nation.
“He and Fumio are so much alike. They both love to exag-
gerate,” Keisaku said.
“Dear, you ought to read the letter carefully. It isn’t clear
what he means by the ‘new dawn for the Japanese nation.’ He
could be referring either to the First General Election or your
election victory.” *
“What a cynic you are!”
“But Eiji is thoughtful.”
As a member of parliament, Keisaku was asked more often
than before for samples of his calligraphy and on many more
occasions he took up his brush to write Chinese poems on thick
colored paper. Eiji and Fumio had doubtless sent him’ the ink
stick anticipating these requests. Under the bright light, Hana
scrutinized her sash with its checkered design on black, a design
which had been chosen by Fumio. It pleased her exceedingly that
 eg closes

even Fumio had matured into a thoughtful woman who was able
to select a sash for her mother.
“It’s perfectly natural for a woman to settle down a bit when
she’s expecting her second child. Didn’t you yourself suddenly
change after Fumio’s birth?”
“Don’t be absurd!”
“Yes, you did. Think back on it.”
“I wonder.”
But Hana had no time to reminisce. She was now worried
about Fumio’s second pregnancy of which they had been in-
formed by Eiji. The Harumis had Chinese maids to serve them
and were surrounded by foreigners. Was it possible for Fumio to
have a safe delivery in a strange land? Hana thought of sending
them the money for a trip back so that her daughter could
have the baby in Japan. According to Eiji’s letter, however, the
baby was due in late April or early May. Fumio’s pregnancy was
therefore too advanced for her to make a safe journey home
by sea.
“It’s a boy. Both mother and child fine. Harumi.”

They received this telegram on May 4. Two months later they

received a letter and a photograph of Eiji, Fumio, Kazuhiko, and
their second son, Shin. Eiji looked stylish, dressed in a white linen
suit and wearing rimless glasses. Fumio was seated in a chair
carrying Shin who was dressed in a newborn baby’s outfit. She
wore the latest fashion: a sleeveless dress with an open neckline
and frills on her right shoulder and a cloche hat which covered
her ears.
“They’re all so dressed up,’ sighed Keisaku.
“Fumio has lost some weight. She must have had a difficult
delivery,” Hana observed.
Hana tried to read some meaning into Fumio’s thin face. How-
ever, her daughter’s arms and chest were still broad enough and
there was no real sign that Fumio, now twenty-five years old,
was growing weak. On the contrary, large lively characters, like
 eons) aa

those she had written as a college student, pranced gaily through

the letter, which had been enclosed in an envelope. She wrote
that the character for Shin was a slight modification of the first
character in the compound meaning “general” in honor of Kei-
saku’s victory in the general election. They had forgotten al-
together Wataru, the name they had earlier agreed upon while
crossing the East China Sea. Fumio described in detail what life
was like in a concession in Shanghai and occasionally included
some Chinese words she had picked up for a touch of humor.
Now that Fumio was separated from her mother, her remarks
were no longer caustic. At the close of her letter, however, she
proudly announced that Eiji was receiving a service area allowance
and that, as a result, his salary was as high as that of a lieutenant-
general of the army. In a postscript she explained that the fine ink
stick they had sent earlier was worth fifteen yen in Japanese cur-
rency, and the damask sash, seven yen. In Japan, Eiji’s monthly
salary had been eighty-two yen which was by no means a meager
sum. However, after marrying Fumio, his entire salary was used
up by daily expenses.
Fumio ought to have written:
“Thanks to you, we are now able to lead a life of luxury on
Eiji’s salary alone. Please do not worry about us.”
Instead, she wrote:
Eiji does not have an impressive family background nor
does he own any farmland, but he is able to provide well
for his wife and family.

Hana was no longer upset by Fumio’s attitude. Nonetheless,

she felt bad about their having spent all that money on such
expensive gifts and thought of sending an equivalent value in
goods. Fumio’s outfit was an imitation of the way Clara Bow, the
American movie actress, dressed; it was then considered the height
of fashion among the ultra-modern girls of Japan. But Hana
regarded it as being so immodest she could hardly bear to look
at the photograph. Without delay, she made her way to Taka-
 OL.

shimaya and bought two formal kimonos of silk gauze and

matching sashes which she sent to Fumio. However, these articles
of clothing were sent back by return post.
Freshly distilled saké has to be poured into a new
leather bag. Similarly, Western-style clothes are the
most suitable for a modern life-style. Your presents
can only be interpreted as criticism of my attire. In
Shanghai, I shall be wearing the same clothes all year
round. I am therefore returning your gifts. However,
I appreciate all the trouble you went through.
Three photographs were enclosed together with the letter.
One had been taken at the tennis court; it showed Fumio at Eiji’s
side, holding a tennis racket. Fumio had written on the back:
“Have taken up tennis. Sunburned and very dark. The sun in
Shanghai is insatiable.” The second photograph was of Eiji in a
sports cap; he was carrying Kazuhiko, who had a child’s version
of the same cap perched on the back on his head. Eiji had his
cheek pressed against his son’s. The last photograph showed
Fumio in a dress of loosely woven linen carrying Shin, who
had grown quite a bit. She was smiling casually.
Fumio appeared easygoing to some, self-centered to others,
but in the photographs she seemed happiness incarnate. No longer
feeling hurt, Hana put the silk gauze kimonos and sashes away in
the bottom of the paulownia chest in the drawing room. When
she had the chance, she would transfer them to the storehouse of
the Musota house where Fumio’s wedding kimonos had been put
away.
The Masago-cho mansion was located in the heart of the city,
but the garden was spacious and the trees and plants grew tall.
In the lingering heat of summer, the cicadas chirped ceaselessly,
as though they were desperately staving off the approach of au-
tumn. Hana, who was fair-complexioned, did not perspire much
even in summer. But, troubled by the piercing cries of the cicadas,
she recalled the strange words “the sun in Shanghai is insatiable.”
 psoas
5>ras

Hana’s sensibility was such that she could not tolerate such vulgar
phrases. “What offensive words!” she thought disapprovingly.
She tried to get into a more cheerful mood by working on the
plans for their first tea ceremony which was scheduled for early
autumn.
In autumn they received a telegram from Shanghai which said:
“Shin critical. Fumio.” Even though her grandson was dying, it
was not possible for Hana to hurry over to Shanghai. So unex-
pected was the news that Hana, holding the telegram in her hand,
was at a loss what to do. Keisaku was away in Tokyo for a session
of the National Diet. Moreover, Kazumi, who had married
into the Kusumi family, had neglected a cold which she had
caught in early autumn when the weather had suddenly grown
cold. Her condition showed very little improvement. The mental
strain was all that Hana could endure. Three days later Hana re-
ceived another telegram, saying, “Kazumi critical, Kusumi.”
Hana hurriedly got her things together and rushed over to
Yamato but she was too late. Her daughter had already died of
pneumonia.
When Utae arrived with a set of her mother’s mourning
kimonos, Hana studied her face, fearful that she bore the sad
news of Shin’s death. However, Utae kept her head lowered,
ashamed of showing her mother her tear-streaked face. Following
the funeral of the young bride, held only a year and a half after
the wedding, the Kusumi family carried out the ancient practice
of putting on display in the sitting room the items of the bride’s
dowry according to the list presented at the wedding. The
Kusumis said that they would keep only the wedding kimono
and sash and return everything else to the Matanis.
Hana presented appropriate souvenirs to Kazumi’s mother-in-
law, sisters-in-law, and maids in the Kusumi household. Then,
entrusting the packing and delivery of the dowry to otliers, she
departed. Stepping out of the gloomy house and into the bright
autumn sunlight, she suddenly felt dizzy. Kazumi’s remains were
now contained in a small urn. Realizing that on the forty-ninth
 SaesLOD aan

day of mourning Kazumi would be buried in the Kusumi grave-

yard and that not even her spirit would be returning to the
Matani home, Hana’s wretchedness was such that she could not
shed a tear. As Kazumi’s mother, all she could bring back was
what remained of the dowry; she could not bring back a single
bone of her daughter’s body.
Fussed over by Utae and Tomokazu, Hana returned to the
Masago-chd mansion. Removing her slippers at the entrance,
she turned to the houseboy who greeted them.
“Ts there a telegram from Shanghai?”
BY
eS it a
Hana saw at once from the way he hesitated that word had
been received of her grandson’s death. Her foot missed the stone
step as she fell forward in a faint.
When Hana came to, she was lying down in the living room.
Kosaku was seated nearby.
“Oh, it’s you. How kind of you to have come all this distance.”
Hana struggled to sit up, but Kosaku made her lie back.
“Hana, you should lie still at a time like this. You'll only stum-
ble and hurt yourself if you try to get up.”
“Kosaku.”’
“Keisaku is still in Tokyo.”
Hana began to shed tears of sorrow. Never in all these years
had she wept in anyone’s presence. Now, however, she buried
her face in the pillow and wept soundlessly. Kosaku watched her
grief in silence. He looked much older than Keisaku, as he had
turned gray sooner. His eyebrows, gray hairs prominent, were
absolutely still, a sign, it seemed, that he was crying inwardly.
These two middle-aged parents had both experienced the heart-
breaking loss of a daughter and were incapable now of hiding
their feelings.
Fumio was experiencing the same despair in Shanghai. She
wrote a rambling letter describing the events surrounding the
death of her second son. The gist of her letter was that the grief
resulting from the loss of one’s own flesh and blood could only
 spd a

be understood by parents who had experienced a similar loss.

It dismayed her to be writing a letter of this nature to her mother
who had successfully brought up five children. The tone of the
letter suggested that Fumio had lost all her strength. Still grief-
stricken, Hana had not yet informed Fumio of Kazumi’s death.

In the summer of the following year, the bank assigned Eiji

to the New York branch. This time the Harumis decided that
Eiji would go without his family. One reason for this decision
was that Fumio was pregnant again and had expressed a fervent
desire to have the child born in Japan. She also wished to remain
in Japan until the baby was able to walk. A second reason was that
they thought it unwise to disrupt Kazuhiko’s education. Eiji
wrote to the Matanis asking if he might leave his family with them
for three years. Before Hana could send a reply, the Harumi
family arrived in Kobe and quickly made their way to Waka-
yama, for, once a written order was handed down in Shokin
Bank, the families were relocated within ten days.
Fumio confessed to her mother that she felt a deep sense of
guilt that she had caused the death of her son through negligence.
The feeling of guilt was unbearable.
“You may have lost a daughter, but Kazumi married and had
her moment of glory. Moreover, you were not in any way re-
sponsible for her death. In my case, I actually watched Shin fall
ill and die. I feel the bitterest remorse when I think about his
tragic death.” ‘
“But Fumio, I too have experienced deep remorse. My grand-
mother once told me that a bride should never have to travel to
her new home against the flow of the River Ki. But I paid no heed
to her words and sent Kazumi to Yamato. It’s too late now to
do anything about it, but I can’t help feeling that I was to blame
for her death.”
“I didn’t know of such a superstition.”
“As. for little: Shinge sey
“What about him?”
 cara
| ati

“I went to Kudoyama and made an offering of breast charms

at Jison-in when you were expecting Kazuhiko. But I was so
busy when you were pregnant with Shin that I didn’t even send
someone else in my place. I blame myself that the baby wasn’t
given a chance to grow up.”
“Mother...”
Fumio’s eyes opened wide and she held her breath for a mo-
ment, but she said nothing more. A few days later she asked bold-
ly, albeit self-consciously :
“Mother, how do you make a breast charm?”
Using her cotton handkerchief, Hana showed her how it was
done.
“Are you thinking of going to Jison-in?”
“Yes. It may set my mind at ease.
Fumio rose to her feet and walked away. She had a strong
constitution and did not seem to suffer from morning sickness.
That very evening she showed her mother the charm she had
finished making.
“Mother, will this do?”
Fumio, who was clumsy with her hands, had made gigantic
charms, bulging and unattractive. Following the death of her
baby, Fumio had grown so thin that she was a mere shadow of
her former self, but the charms she had made were larger than her
breasts had ever been, even when she was nursing her first-born.
Hana could not very well say that the charms would not do
simply because they were clumsily made. The mere fact that
Fumio, who had even had the maids darn Eiji’s socks, had
taken up a needle and thread for the sake of a child yet to be born
was worthy of praise.
“Yes, they'll do very nicely.”
Hana brought out her inkstone case and set it down in front
of Fumio. Fumio removed the elaborate cover decorated with
gold lacquer and looked down at the two ink sticks lying next
to the inkstone, one of which was the ink stick she had sent from
Shanghai. Fumio studied the expensive ink stick for a long mo-
 ave eo

ment, then took up instead the Japanese one and began to grind
some ink. The T’ang ink stick had reminded her of the time she
had been pregnant with Shin.
Hana watched to see that the ink was of the proper consistency.
“Tet me write the characters,” said Hana.
Fumio silently turned the inkstone case toward Hana. Hana
wrote “Fumio age 26” on the huge charms. When they were
hung up in front of the Miroku Hall, they overshadowed all
the others. So large they could not be held in the palm of one
hand, Fumio’s charms dwarfed the others, all of which were small
enough to be easily gripped. Fumio had stretched her tall body
and hung the pair from the highest point on the pillar. They
looked for the ones Hana had presented in praying for Kazuhiko’s
safe delivery, but the older charms had been exposed to the
elements for so long the characters on them were no longer
legible. There were also some funny-looking charms with cotton
protruding from a tear in the habutaé silk.
Upon their return home, Fumio described enthusiastically
their temple visit.
“I can’t say that I believe in the efficacy of the offering, but
I feel so lighthearted. I think it would be wrong to do away with
superstition altogether.”
Fumio still insisted on rationalizing everything she did.
The situation could have been extremely awkward for Fumio.
She had always derided tradition, so eager had she been to follow
a modern way of life. But Hana did not wish to humiliate her
daughter, and so, instead, she criticized her dress:
“Can’t you do anything about that ugly dress? You look so
untidy. Remember that we have visitors all the time.”
“T don’t care what people think,” retorted Fumio.

On New Year’s Day of 1931, there was an unusually heavy

snowfall in the east of Japan. Even in the west it began to snow
after the lunar New Year, and in Wakayama there was snow on
the ground, a very rare sight indeed. The snowfall was not as
 TD eo

heavy as it was in other parts of the country, but there were about
three inches of snow on the ground. It was an extraordinarily
heavy snowfall for the region. As people offered their traditional
New Year’s greetings, they would say: “Snow for a rich har-
vest, a phrase which had never before been used in the region.
The residents of Wakayama City were in high spirits.
Lying in a room in the Japanese Red Cross Hospital in Taka-
matsu-machi, Fumio gazed out of the window at the snow.
“The snow’s too dazzling. My eyes are beginning to hurt.”
Recalling Yasu’s eye ailment, Hana grew alarmed and quickly
drew the curtains to darken the room.
“Mother, how is the baby?”
“Tt’s doing fine, so relax and don’t worry.”
Fumio’s baby, born a month prematurely, had been placed
in a strange box called an incubator and was being taken care
of by the nurses in a separate room. It had barely uttered a cry
when it was born and was as yet unable to suckle milk on its own.
“Neither the patron deity of Jison-in nor the breast charms
were much good, Mother.”
“What are you saying? Go to sleep now. You'll grow weak
if you don’t get some rest.”
“Ts the baby that weak?’ Then suddenly sitting up, Fumio
cried: “I haven’t lost it, have I? Not again. . .”
“Hush, Fumio! Didn’t the doctor tell you that the baby will
be all right?”
“Please open the window. How can I think about anything
pleasant in a dark room?”
Hana let in some light. Looking at the snow which had begun
falling again, she changed the subject.
“What do you think about the name Yukiko? Harumi Yukiko.
Isn’t that a lovely name?”
“T think you should take a look at this.” Fumio drew out an
envelope from under her pillow and handed it to Hana. It was a
letter from New York. Hana read the sheet of stationery on which
ten boys’ names and ten girls’ names were written. Yoshihiko,
 Sian

Fumihiko, Akihiko, Toshihiko, and Hidehiko were some of the

boys’ names; and Toshiko, Yoko, Chikako, Etsuko, Hanako,
and Kazuko among the girls’ names.
“By the way, Mother, please go to Mr. Kinoshita and have
him choose the best name for the baby before the seventh-day
ceremony.”
Fumio looked down as she shyly made this request.
Mr. Kinoshita was a diviner who knew about directional ta-
boos, gave advice on the building of houses, and selected names
for children. Hana often went to him when she had a problem.
Once she consulted him when Tomokazu came down with a
strange illness. Fumio, who had never believed in divination,
was now asking her mother to have Mr. Kinoshita choose a name
for the baby.
Seven days after its birth, the baby, still inhaling oxygen in-
side the incubator, was given the name Hanako. The name,
although pronounced similarly, used a character different from
Hana’s name.
“It’s a lovely name,” commented Kosaku, who had come to
visit his niece in the hospital and to extend his greetings to her
child.
SPART
Hl
 eee LOOKING DOWN AT the lotus leaves in the moat, Hana
= - {and her granddaughter crossed the first drawbridge
j “amy {and found themselves in the grounds of Wakayama
i— | Castle. Suddenly the castle tower disappeared from
— —-—--! view, a phenomenon—an intentional one—that was
part of the art of fortification. Outside the castle, the white-
walled, three-storied tower could be seen from a great distance.
However, here within the castle grounds, even though the ap-
proach road was built on a steep incline, the tower was barred
from their field of vision by tall stone walls. On their right, an
ancient camphor tree was putting forth young shoots.
“Grandmother, are those cherry blossoms?” asked Hanako
in a high-pitched voice.
“No, dear. They’re peach blossoms.”
To Hanako, the blossoms were very exotic, and so she gazed
steadily at the peach grove on her left. The peach blossoms were
of the late-blooming variety that would be bearing tiny fruit in
early summer. The petals, a sickly shade of pink, were tougher
than those of cherry blossoms. The pink blossoms seemed to tint
Hanako’s pale complexion. Hana tugged at her granddaughter’s
hand.
“You should be able to see some cherry blossoms from the
top of those steps.”
eReallycs
Hana suddenly felt very sorry for her grandchild, whom she
had not seen for six years. After her birth in the Red Cross Hospi-
tal, Hanako had been taken along to the various bank branches
to which her father was assigned. She was now in the third grade,
but she was altogether unfamiliar with the four seasons of Japan.
Hana caught a fleeting glimpse of Fumio in this child who could
not distinguish between cherry blossoms and peach blossoms.
It was quite possible that Hana’s daughter, who had rebelled against
everything Japanese, might have planned to raise her children
in a land of eternal summer, thus alienating them completely
from Japanese tradition.
 "Sed Le a

“Didn’t you see the peach blossoms next to the display of dolls
on Girls’ Day? In fact, most of the blossoms arranged in the al-
cove until fairly recently were peach blossoms.’’
“But I had a fever and spent most of my time in bed. I had no
chance to enjoy the blossoms.”
It was not merely because Hanako, who was now nine years
old, did not speak in the Wakayama dialect that she sounded
precocious. The child was tall and thin as a result of having been
born prematurely; and she was sick so often that she rarely went
to school and spent much of her time reading in bed. Her con-
versation was unusual for a girl her age and often startled Hana.
Nevertheless, Hana was greatly relieved that Hanako had not
inherited Fumio’s rebelliousness.
Following the campaign launched by Margaret Sanger, an
American advocate of birth control, Fumio had had two abor-
tions after Hanako’s birth. However, she suddenly decided to have
another baby in her late thirties, claiming that she was merely
going along with the national policy. In fact, she had realized
very clearly a mother’s function when she found herself pregnant
again after so many years and had wanted very much to have
the baby. Together with Hanako, she had made her way back to
Japan from south of the equator on a sea voyage which had taken
all of two weeks. Upon her arrival, she had had an emotional
reunion with her eldest son. The Harumis had decided to give
their son a traditional education, and so Kazuhiko had been left
with his grandparents. After five years in New York City, Eiji
had been transferred to Batavia, then the capital of Java in the
Dutch East Indies. Both Eiji and Fumio had agreed that the
baby should be born in Japan. It was for this reason that Fumio
had returned to Japan with her daughter.
As in the past, there was a constant stream of visitors at the
Matani mansion in Masago-chd. Keisaku had been reelected
member of parliament for the past eleven years; moreover, he
had been an active member of the Wakayama Agricultural As-
sociation for a good twenty years. Besides being a member of the
 goth
| ea

House of Representatives in Tokyo he held many titles: president

of the Wakayama Agricultural Association, director of the
Wakayama Immigration Association, president of the Wakayama
Livestock Union, president of the Wakayama Sericulture Asso-
ciation, president of the Wakayama Shipping Union, president of
the Farmers’ Insurance Union. These titles were not merely hon-
orary, for Keisaku had personally established and encouraged the
growth of these organizations.
Keisaku did not allow his body to grow weak as the years
went by. Following the outbreak of war with China in the previ-
ous year and the establishment of the Konoe Cabinet, which was
supported by the bureaucracy, the influence of the political par-
ties had declined sharply. Nevertheless, Keisaku endeavored to
work diligently for the good of Wakayama Prefecture rather than
actively oppose the growth of a “military Japan.”
“Father, are you still active in the Seiytkai which has done
absolutely nothing to check the growth of Japanese fascism?”
asked Fumio bluntly.
“I wouldn’t put it that way. The situation was such that all
I could do was look after the welfare of my constituents,” Kei-
saku replied guardedly.
Democracy and liberalism were looked upon as embryos of
Communist thought. Therefore, the government made scape-
goats of all left-wing power groups which took an antiwar stand.
In the provinces, the National General Mobilization Act gave
extensive powers to the military and the bureaucracy and inten-
sified the war effort.
Fumio, still a liberal at heart, understood clearly the seri-
ousness of the situation in Japan from reading the newspaper.
“Really, Father. Why, even the Socialist Democratic Party
dances attendance on the military!”
“You can’t reason with those in power who shout at everyone
to keep silent. The situation has worsened since the February
Twenty-sixth Incident.”
“What do you think will happen?”
 SS 1S

“T really can’t say.”

As a schoolgirl, Fumio had never seen such a gloomy look in
her father’s eyes.
“What is Father thinking about, Mother?”
“T’m afraid I don’t know. When he’s with me, he just laughs
and says that he has the welfare of Wakayama to look after.”
“What do you think about the present state of affairs, Mother?”
“What does Eiji say? It must be easier to view Japan objectively
when one is in a foreign country.”
“Naturally he’s vehemently opposed to fascism.”
“But isn’t Java a Dutch possession? What do the Dutch, who
are at loggerheads with Germany, think of the Tripartite Alli-
ance?”
Hana’s incisive questions prompted Fumio, who had led a care-
free life in a Dutch colony, to stop and consider her own situa-
tion. Experiencing her first Japanese winter in years, Hanako was
ill most of the time. Fumio remained unusually quiet awaiting
the birth of her child, and she was kept extremely busy nursing
her daughter.
Nonetheless, the Matani home was as hectic as ever, and Hana
was at the center of a whirlwind of activities. She already had
several grandchildren, but she handled the complicated business
of running a large household with such spirit that she was the
envy of many a younger woman. She was called Soong Mei-ling
behind her back, so much did she remind people of Madame
Chiang Kai-shek. ‘However, no one was openly hostile toward
Hana, and Hana, for her part, conducted herself as elegantly as
ever.
Keisaku had departed for a ten-day trip to Tokyo and things
had become somewhat quieter at home. So it was that Hana had
thought of viewing the early cherry blossoms and set out hand in
hand with her granddaughter. She and Hanako were the only
passengers in the trolley car as it made its way to Wakayama
Park. When Hanako expressed her wish to see the castle, Hana
changed her original plan and headed for the castle tower.
 sci fbse coin

On this particular Sunday afternoon, the castle was not as lively

as it was during a festival, but stalls selling special rice cakes in the
shape ofpine cones had been set up. It was pleasant to see people
going to the zoo and children running out of the playground.
“Look at this tiger,” said Hanako, coming to a sudden stop.
There, before their eyes, was a life-sized statue of a tiger, which
looked as though it had just crept out in front of them.
“Long ago this castle was called the Castle of the Crouching
Tiger in a Bamboo Enclosure. A statue ofa tiger was therefore
cast in its honor.”
Listening with interest to her grandmother’s explanation, Hana-
ko continued to study the statue.
“There’s something very odd about this tiger. Oh, now I
know! Grandmother, its legs are funny.”
Hanako pointed at the unnatural position ofthe tiger’s forelegs
and hind legs, all four stepping forward simultancously.
“You are observant, Hanako. When the statue was completed,
people made a great fuss over the unnatural position ofits legs.”
“Why didn’t they have the statue recast? Isn’t it wrong to put
on display anything which is not quite right?”
Hana gazed gravely into the eyes raised up toward hers.
“Some people are amused by silly mistakes like this.”
“I find it amusing myself and it doesn’t bother anyone.”
Hanako’s white teeth gleamed as she smiled happily. Hana was
pleasantly surprised by her granddaughter’s quick-witted re-
sponse. Fumio would have investigated thoroughly any mistake.
Hana felt immensely relieved that Hanako was so different from
her mother. She felt that she would like very much to see per-
sonally to her granddaughter’s upbringing, and she recalled her
own childhood when she had been brought up by Toyono.
The second gate leading to the castle tower came into view as
they reached level land. Here the two sat down on a bench to
catch their breath after the exhausting climb up the steep road.
Wakayama Castle had been built high above the city where there
was no danger of it being flooded. They turned and looked out
 eee

over the grove of cherry trees which appeared white and hazy.
‘Are those cherry blossoms?” asked Hanako, sounding disap-
pointed. Growing up in a forcign land, she had picked up infor-
mation about Japan from different sources, such as her parents,
picture books, and her teachers at the Japanese Elementary School.
According to these various sources, the beauty of the cherry
blossom, which was a symbol of the national character of Japan,
was far more spectacular than this. Hanako, who was accustomed
to tropical flowers, did not appreciate the pale pink blossoms,
which she thought were rather insipid.
“The double cherries will be at their best toward the end of the
month, so let’s come back to view them then,” suggested Hana by
way of consolation. She bought two tickets and passed through
the gate with Hanako. They cut across the courtyard and made
their way to the entrance of the tower. Turning to their right in
the dark, they ascended the tower.
The tower had been originally built for warfare, but there was
no trace at all of a castlelike atmosphere. The thick wooden
frames visible here and there in the dimly lit tower were not
impressive. The light streaming in through the small square
windows filtered through the dust kicked up by the visitors to
the castle, one of the national monuments of Japan.
“The air is terribly dusty. I’m afraid my tonsils will get swollen.”
“Let’s climb up to the top. We'll be able to see all of Wakayama
Gity4
Hana had second thoughts as they struggled up the steep stairs.
This spring outing was altogether too taxing for a sixty-two-
year-old woman and her nine-year-old grandchild. Hanako, who
was delicate in constitution, looked pale for a time after arriving
at the third landing. Hana, too, felt shaky and was certain that she
would tire her legs and back. However, the view from the top
was truly breathtaking. On a clear day, one could look over the
entire plain to the mouth of the River Ki.
“Look, Hanako.”
“What a lovely shade of green!” cried Hanako as they both
 perSS ocr

arrived at the top. Hanako tried to describe to her grandmother

the difference between the vivid green of the tropics and the
delicate green of Wakayama.
“There’s the ocean. Grandmother, which direction is south?”
“Beyond that point.”
“Then Father is way over there in Java.”
Hand in hand they strolled around the outer edge of the tower.
Worrying about the child being up so high, Hana held her grand-
daughter’s hand tightly. Hanako laughed.
“It’s all right, Grandmother. There’s wire netting all around
the edge,’ Hanako said, gently rebuking her grandmother in a
grown-up manner.
A ribbon of celadon green flowed to the northwest. The city
extended to a point just this side of the river. A vast expanse of
green lay beyond the river.
“Take a good look, Hanako. That’s the River Ki.”
“What a lovely color!”
The rivers in Batavia were a brilliant blue. Hanako was thus
enchanted by the celadon green of the Ki.
“That’s Musota over there, where your mother was born.”
Hanako looked in the direction her grandmother was pointing.
Slowly surveying the peaceful village surrounded by rice fields,
she suddenly asked:
“Where was I born?”
“In the Red Cross Hospital your baby brother was born in.”
“Oh? How very dull!”
Hana did not know what had prompted Hanako to make this
disparaging remark.
So exhausted were they on the way home that neither of them
could utter a word. Hana fully realized the awkward position her
granddaughter found herself in. This child saw Japan with the eyes
of a foreigner and was always discovering something new, such asa
particular shade of green or blue and the blossoms of cherry or
peach. On the other hand, her grandchild was not really a foreign-
er. She was a Japanese who had no links with Japan’s heritage.
 see
ko Ya

“It’s perfectly natural, Mother. After all, she isn’t even familiar
with the changing order of the four seasons: summer, autumn,
winter, and spring. The four seasons come in that order only in
the temperate zone.”
“Now I know why Eiji left Kazuhiko in Japan. When all of
you return to Java this summer, Hanako will forget all about the
cherry blossoms. What a pity!”
“You shouldn’t feel sorry for her, Mother.” Suddenly feeling
angry, Fumio became argumentative.
“Japanese away from Japan are extremely self-conscious about
being Japanese. You never know when you are being observed by
a foreigner. The Japanese embassies and consulates tell us to
conduct ourselves properly so as not to embarrass Japan. The
education provided abroad by the Japanese Elementary School
implants the true spirit of Japan in the children and carefully
teaches them to be proud of being Japanese. Hanako is not to be
pitied!”
Hana and Fumio were sitting in the sun on the veranda on the
south side of the house sewing some more stitches onto a good luck
“thousand-stitches”’ belt. Hana was fixing in place a five-sencoin.
Pulling a needle threaded with red cotton, she replied slowly:
“T suppose you're right.”
Irritated that her argument had fallen on deaf ears, Fumio
snatched the belt away from her mother. Fumio’s sewing was as
clumsy as before, but even she worked on the belts. She drew the
needle through the next dot, pressed the needle against the
material, coiled the thread around the needle, then pulled the
needle through to complete a tiny red knot. As an officer of the
Women’s Patriotic Association, Hana received almost daily
orders for these belts. Except for women born in the Year of the
Tiger, one woman was allowed to sew only one stitch per belt.
Hana had Fumio, the maids, and the ladies who came to visit
her sew one stitch on each belt. She herself set aside the five-sen
coins, which had a hole in the center, and carefully attached them
to the belts.
 See feet

“Five sen is considered lucky. It means ‘to cross the death

line’. ”’*
“It has nothing to do with luck! The coin simply helps to ward
off shrapnel, that’s all.”
Hana sighed softly as she waited patiently for Fumio to finish
her knot. She then gathered up the belts and rose to her feet.
“How is Hanako feeling?” she inquired.
“She’s feeling fine now.”
“Well then, I'll ask her to help with these.”
Hanako’s tonsils had begun to swell the very evening of their
excursion to Wakayama Castle and she had developed a high
fever. Fumio, who had lost her second son and who knew how
sickly Hanako was, was beside herself with worry as she nursed
her daughter. Three days after the outing, the fever had abated.
Fumio was, therefore, feeling greatly relieved.
“Mother, please keep Hanako company for a while. I’m going
to take Kazuhiko along with me to. . .”
“To where?”
“To the castle.”
Fumio, who had not yet abandoned her tomboyish ways, had
been dying to climb the castle tower after hearing about the ex-
cursion. Three months earlier she had had a difficult delivery;this
time the baby had been late in making its appearance. Her
recovery, however, had been rapid and she was thoroughly en-
joying her first spring in Japan in years. Kazuhiko, who was in his
third year at Wakayama Middle School, felt embarrassed by his
mother’s childlike enthusiasm as they set out for the castle.

Sleep, sleep
A child who sleeps will grow.
If you go to sleep

*Five sen (gosen) exceeded in value four sen (shisen). However, when a different
pair of characters is used, shisen means “‘death line,” and so five sen came to
be interpreted as “crossing the death line (to safety).”
 sia:
KS a

I'll dress you in a red kimono;

If you stay awake
I'll dress you in a striped kimono.

Matsu, the daughter of one of the tenant farmers, had come to

look after Akihiko, Fumio’s baby boy. The girl was singing a
lullaby to while away the time, as Fumio had made it clear to her
that she was not to carry the baby all the time. The girl, knowing
nothing about helping in the kitchen of a busy household, was
of no assistance to the maids.
Slipping past the baby’s room, Hana made her way along the
corridor to the detached cottage where her granddaughter was
resting. She had with her the “thousand-stitches”’ belts.
“Hanako,” she called softly as she opened the sliding door. Her
granddaughter was lying in bed. The girl looked up at Hana in
surprise.
“T’m sorry, dear. I shouldn’t have wakened you!”
“No, you didn’t, Grandmother. I had my eyes closed, but I
wasn’t asleep. I was listening to Matsu’s singing.”
Hanako was a pathetic sight indeed with a white bandage
wound around her neck. Nonetheless, she greeted her grand-
mother cheerfully.
“What have you got there?”
While her grandmother explained to her the significance of the
belts, Hanako studied them closely. Dressed in cotton flannel
pajamas with a print of baby bears, she sat up slowly and reached
out for one of the belts. Her curly hair was sticking out in all
directions and her red lips lent her pale face a touch of color. She
had lost all trace of her precociousness and looked extremely
young sitting there in her pajamas. Hana taught her grand-
daughter how to sew a knot on a “‘thousand-stitches”’ belt.
“Some of the belts have tigers painted on them, Grandmother.”
“Tt’s said that tigers travel a distance of a thousand miles and
back, so they’re used in wishing men good luck in battle. That’s
why only women born in the Year of the Tiger are allowed to
sew the number of stitches equal to their years.”
 see oa
&

“Really?” asked Hanako. “Oh well, the legs of this tiger are in
the right position to allow it to run.”
“Oh, Hanako!”’
Recalling the bronze statue of the tiger at the castle, the two of
them laughed.
“Where does a soldier wear his thousand-stitches belt?”’
“Around his stomach.”
“Are the five-sen coins used to protect him from bullets?”
“That’s one reason for the coins, but...”
Hana again explained that five sen symbolized a soldier’s safe
return. Hanako listened with her eyes aglow. Her lips parted
slightly and she laughed, amused by her grandmother’s explana-
tion. Hanako expressed a desire to attach a five-sen piece to the
last belt Hana had been working on. Hana therefore took out a
coin from her purse and handed it to her. The girl carefully sewed
the coin on the belt. Hana’s only regret was that her grand-
daughter, like her mother, was clumsy with her hands. Neverthe-
less, Hana smiled and gazed fondly at Hanako’s profile.
Keisaku had been detained in Tokyo on business. Two nights
before his expected return, a long-distance telephone call was put
through to the house in Masago-cho. The telephone jangled
loudly through the house, its occupants having retired for the
night. Hana awoke with a terrible premonition. She jumped out
of bed and dashed out into the corridor. The houseboy who had
answered the telephone turned to her and said that the call was
from Tokyo.
Hana took up the receiver.
“Hello. This is the Muraki-ya in Tokyo calling. May I speak to
Mrs. Matani? Mr. Matanihas.. .”
“Hello. This is Mrs. Matani. What has happened to my
husband?”
“He suddenly fell ill. He’s in a critical condition.”
“What is it? A heart attack?”
Keisaku had collapsed in the Muraki-ya. Hana quickly gathered
her things together and went by car to Osaka. She boarded the
 LOO

first train bound for Tokyo the following morning, but even then
she did not make it in time. Not even Tomokazu, who worked
for Mitsui Products in Tokyo, had been at his father’s side when
he breathed his last.
Keisaku had died of a sudden heart attack at the age of sixty-six.
The death of Matani Keisaku, one of the prefecture’s most
senior politicians, was reported fully in the Wakayama news-
paper.
The caption in bold print under the picture of the bereaved
widow pressing a handkerchief to her eyes read: “A moment too
late. Mrs. Matani in tears.” And then the following rather hack-
neyed remarks: “I am unable to think clearly and feel that this is
all a terrible nightmare. I cannot believe that he is really gone.”
These words, so unlike Hana’s speech with its old Wakayama
expressions, did not seem to reflect her true feelings at all.
Kosaku rushed over to Masago-ch6 and received an endless line
of mourners. His white hair stood out most conspicuously above
his black crested kimono. Sorrow pervaded the entire mansion.
Keisaku’s photograph, displayed in the alcove, was enveloped in
the smoke rising from the incense. The man in the photograph
seemed to be gazing at the mourners.
Mr. Otake, a member of the Prefectural House who had been
his secretary when Keisaku was Speaker of the House, took care
of the formal details of the funeral. Fumio worked diligently to
serve as a model for the maids to emulate. The tall woman in
Western-style clothes frantically dashing about the house carry-
ing some object or other was indeed a sight to behold.
“Fumio, do you have an outfit ready for the funeral?” asked
Utae worriedly as soon as she arrived. Fumio’s younger sister had
married into an Osaka family.
“No, I don’t. Pll borrow something.”
“But it'll be difficult to find a woman the same size.”
“Stop nagging me. What’s important now is the fact that
Father is dead, not what to wear to the funeral.”
Fumio then wove her way through the mourners who were
 =
reg.

milling about, before disappearing from view. She had just

returned from abroad and knew little about the kitchen, for all
her life she had taken no interest in housekeeping. She was there-
fore of little help. Worried that Fumio was getting in everyone’s
way, Utae was about to call her away. However, Kosaku stopped
her, saying, “Let her be. She has her own way of expressing her
grief.”
Keisaku’s body arrived in Wakayama City in the afternoon of
the following day in a funeral car hooked onto a train from
Tokyo. The crowds of mourners who came to see the coffin
pass, stricken by the blank expression on Hana’s face as she walked
behind her husband’s body, were unable to offer words of con-
dolence. But Hana bowed politely to each one she recognized.
The coffin was brought into the mansion and arrangements
were made for a private family service to be held late that night.
After it was decided that the official Buddhist-style funeral would
be held three days later, Hana summoned Utae to her.
“Is something being done about an outfit for Fumio?”
Fumio was wearing a black wool suit. It was baggy around the
hips and knees, as she had been sitting on the floor and running
about the house in what had once been a tight skirt. Fumio had
been only partly correct in declaring that as long as she wore black
it would do for the funeral.
Hana had hardly had any sleep for three nights running and
there were signs of tiredness around her eyes and neck. Everyone
fussed over her. They laid out the bedding and made her lie down.
However, when Fumio checked in on her a while later, Hana had
disappeared.
Fumio slid open the door to the detached cottage where
Hanako was sleeping.
“Yes, what is it?” cried Hanako. Being a light sleeper, she woke
up straightaway. Flustered, Fumio said:
“T’m sorry, dear. Do you happen to know where Grandmother
is?”
“No, Mother.”
 PEN YOO eS

“Never mind. It’s late, so get back to sleep.”

Fumio hurried out of the room. She did not want to get others
involved, but no one had seen Hana. Fumio searched desperately
in one part of the house and Utae in another. Fumio then noticed
a light in the storehouse which was supposed to be deserted and
quietly opened the door. There sat Hana with bent shoulders, her
back turned to the door.
“Mother, what in the world are you doing? We were frantic
with worry wondering where you had gone!”
Fumio peered over her mother’s shoulders and saw that she had
her sewing box open. A black mourning kimono was spread on
her lap.
“It’s for you. I’m letting down the hem.”
“Mother, I’ll do that. Please go to bed and get some sleep,”
cried Fumio, raising her voice in anger. Tears streamed down her
face as she got Hana to her feet and snatched the mourning
kimono from her. The full impact of her father’s death, which she
had managed to suppress all this time, had suddenly struck her.
Turning pale, Hana looked on silently, and then stole out.

The funeral service was held on a cloudy spring day. Baron

Nanaura headed the funeral committee and the head priest of
Daido-ji in Musota conducted the service. With hundreds of
mourners in attendance, the funeral of Matani Keisaku was truly
impressive. The coffin was surrounded by floral wreaths sent by
Nakajima Chikuhei, the president of the Seiytkai, and other
notables in government and society. Elaborate floral arrange-
ments had been sent by the associations in which Keisaku had been
very active. They were on display along the pathway from the
mansion all the way to and along the road in front of the house
where the streetcars ran, lining both sides of the street like a grove
of trees.
Dressed in a morning coat with a black band on his sleeve and
pin-striped trousers, Seiichird was seated uncomfortably in formal
Japanese fashion next to his mother in the place set aside for the
 enh
OL ee

principal mourners. Seated unobtrusively diagonally behind him

was his wife, Yaeko. A very beautiful woman, Yaeko had come as
a bride from an old Iwade family. She was wearing a black
kimono which enhanced her beauty, making her stand out even
more strikingly among the other mourners. However, no one
addressed her, the new mistress of the house, as Madame Chokui,
as her husband was only an employee of the Osaka central office
of Sumitomo Bank who had bought a house in Osaka.
The relatives of the deceased were represented by Kosaku and
his eldest son, Eisuke. Ume, who had been confined to bed with
a liver ailment for the past year, did not attend the funeral.
Tomokazu was seated nearby; wearing a navy blue suit, he
looked like a typical salaried man. He was twenty-eight years old
and had just become engaged to the daughter of a member of
parliament from Kyoto. Utae had brought along her eldest son,
an unruly little rascal. This turned out to be a disaster, for he con-
stantly demanded her attention. Sighing, she looked enviously at
Fumio’s son, Kazuhiko, who was seated very properly. Then, sud-
denly realizing that her son had slipped away, she got up to look
for him.
Hanako had a white bandage around her neck and was dressed
in a sailor’s costume which had been hurriedly bought the day
before. Dark colors did not suit her at all because of her pale
complexion. She had no clothes appropriate for the funeral and so
they had had to rush to Takashimaya to buy a ready-made outfit.
Hanako was slender and had long arms and legs. She kept pulling
at the sleeves, which had three white stripes around the lower
edge, since she felt that they were too short. Her collar fit poorly,
and the white bow in front was an eyesore. Hanako was not
deeply affected by her grandfather’s death, as she had rarely
found herself in the company of the busy man. By way of rep-
rimanding her daughter for fidgeting, Fumio said:
“Take a good look around you, Hanako. The Meiji and Taisho
eras of the Matani family have come to a close with Grandfather’s
death.”
 Se 192 +e

These words were not directed exclusively to her daughter.

Fumio was merely expressing her thoughts at that moment.
Feeling uncomfortable in her black crested silk kimono, she wore
a set expression on her face. She was concentrating more on her
father’s photograph in its black picture frame, which had been
placed on the altar covered with a length of white material, than
on the words she would have to say to the mourners who came
to offer incense.
Hanako was suddenly overwhelmed by the solemnity of the
occasion and swallowed hard. She had been pampered all her life.
Nonetheless, here she was confronted by the fact of death for the
first time and not able to cling to her mother’s sleeve as she had
always done before.
Besides friends and acquaintances, numerous other residents of
Wakayama who had had no direct association with Keisaku came
to offer incense. It was obvious that the funeral would not be con-
cluded according to schedule. Hanako felt that the white smoke
which rose interminably as the priest solemnly intoned the sutras
would remain forever in her memory.
Indeed, Hanako’s ties to the Matani family were once again
severed as if by the very smoke rising from the incense. Hanako,
being a delicate child, was almost certain to develop a fever and
end up in bed whenever her mind had been affected profoundly
by an event, such as her grandfather’s funeral. Already weakened
by tonsillitis, she developed a serious case of pneumonia and was
not even able to get out of bed to be present at the ceremony
held to mark the forty-ninth day of mourning.
When Hanako finally recovered, she realized that her grand-
mother had moved out of the Masago-cho mansion and had re-
turned to Musota. Moreover, the day was fast approaching when
the Harumis would be returning to Java, where their father
awaited them. Hana was not there to see them off when their ship
left the port of Kobe.
“Why didn’t Grandmother come to see us off?”’ asked Hanako.
Fumio was somewhat taken aback by her daughter’s question.
 Sreleo

“After all, we'll be returning to Japan in two years. We won’t

be separated for very long.”
“Really?”
“If you're worried about Grandmother, why don’t you write
to her? Now that she has more time to herself, she’ll probably
answer your letter.”
Suppressing a smile, Hanako looked up at her mother. That
very day Hanako began keeping an illustrated diary. Fumio put
it together upon their arrival in Batavia and mailed it to her
mother.

When Hana returned to live in the old house in Musota for the
first time in seventeen years, she turned the room in which she
used to lacquer Yasu’s teeth into her private sitting room. When
guests came she would open all the sliding doors, and if the visitor
happened to be somcone close to her, she never failed to take out
Hanako’s diary.
“This is a game called deck golf at which that delicate child
won first prize,” said Hana to Kosaku. Kosaku was seated on a
cushion placed on the threshold between the room and the
veranda.
“Fumio and Hanako together formed a team, so it wasn’t
Hanako alone who won the prize.”
“It was probably Fumio who hit the ball; she’s still a tomboy
at heart. I wonder if Hanako will be all right after romping about
on the deck like that in the wind.”
“Of course. She'll never get well if you keep worrying about
her health like her mother does.”’
“You know, Koésaku. Now that I’ve seen Hanako I feel
tremendously relieved.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, Iwas wondering what I would do if she turned out to be
as rebellious as Fumio. But Hanako strikes me as being perfectly
normal.”
Kosaku laughed. One of his front teeth was missing. His white
 ag) ake

summer kimono with a splashed pattern, sewn a trifle too wide

for him, covered his thin, bony shoulders like a stiff, sleeveless
ceremonial robe. It was badly wrinkled from the collar down.
Hana, knowing that Ume was sick in bed, wondered whether
he had taken it out of storage and worn it without first airing it.
Kosaku often came to visit Hana now that she was back in Ageno-
gaito, probably seeking some diversion from the dreariness of
having a wife with a protracted illness at home. Hana felt that she
had to entertain him with pleasant conversation.
“Hanako is such a gentle child. Look at this drawing of hers.”
“Blossoms I Remember.’ A very poetic title.”
“She drew this one stormy day when she was immersed in
memories of Japan. She has distinguished between peach blossoms
and cherry blossoms by using different colors. Look at this
drawing, Kosaku.”
Not knowing much about flowers, Kosaku was not especially
interested in the drawing and ignored Hana’s request.
“Now that Keisaku is dead, you have no one to boast about.
Do you intend to brag about your granddaughter from now on?”
Kdsaku’s words sounded far more cruel than he meant them to
and hurt Hana deeply.
Hana wondered if Kosaku were indirectly criticizing her eldest
son for not having amounted to much. So completely over-
whelmed had she been by Keisaku’s funeral that she had lived
in a daze in the ensuing months. Now, however, she was pain-
fully aware of the fact that she had nothing left that was really
hers.
Reflecting upon recent events, she realized that her first big
loss was the Masago-ch6 mansion, which she had sold. Highly
respected in Wakayama City, Hana was popular and had her
own responsibilities which would have made it possible for her to
lead a full life in the city had she wanted to. A large part of the
Matani land had been used to finance Keisaku’s election cam-
paigns, but it was still possible for her to lead a life of leisure
on the income from the land. Nonetheless, Hana had quickly
 racbaat
ey ae

and resolutely moved to Musota, wishing to remain Matani

Keisaku’s Hana. It would have gone against the grain for her to
have become an active woman of the modern age. To act on her
own instead of wielding power in her husband’s shadow went
against all the womanly virtues she still believed in so staunchly.
Hana felt that it would be unseemly for her as a widow to be a
leading figure in such women’s groups as the Women’s Patriotic
Association. To her way of thinking, there was something
wretched about a strong, intelligent woman who did not stand
at a man’s side.
Hana had another reason. She would not have sold the house,
so full of memories of her husband, if she had felt that it would
one day have been of use to her eldest son. Kosaku had been
entirely correct in stating that she had nothing to brag about now.
She had long ago given up any hope of transferring her own
strength to her son.
Seiichird was nearly forty and was employed in the Osaka cen-
tral office of Sumitomo Bank. He and his wife were very happy,
but they had no children. Hana’s two daughters had children,
but they were not Matani grandchildren. Hana often complained
that she did not have any grandchildren by her sons and was ter-
ribly disappointed that Seiichird was not eager to have children
of his own. In fact, he had recently remarked that he would like
to have Tomokazu’s son inherit all that was his.
Hana had dedicated herself to the family all her life and there-
fore regarded it a grave sin for the eldest son not to have children
in a patrilineal family. Her son, however, was very casual about
the entire matter. Even Yaeko seemed unconcerned about being
childless, apparently not taking seriously the idea that the foremost
duty of the wife of the eldest son was to bear children. All Sei-
ichird required of his wife was that she look attractive. Yaeko
therefore dressed up more elaborately than before and boasted
that when she went shopping she was bombarded with leaflets
by members of the National Defense Women’s Society proclaim-
ing that “Luxury is our enemy.”
 soe LOG See

Yasu had entrusted Keisaku entirely to Hana. As for Hana, she

restrained herself from reminding Yaeko that her foremost duty
as a wife was to look after her husband. Seiichird was just an
ordinary bank employee. Hana felt that she could not blame his
lack of ambition on his wife, as he had apparently put little effort
into attaining a higher position.
Hana was puzzled by her son and had no idea what his dreams
and ambitions were in life.
Eiji was also a bank employee. Hana thought the way he
boasted about his hopes and dreams was lacking in taste. How-
ever, Eiji’s ambitions took his wife into consideration. There was
nothing of this in Seiichird. He had absolutely no intention of
looking after his father’s constituents and going into politics,
and not wanting to be overshadowed by his father’s fame, he had
no ambitions concerning the world of business. Hana was at a
loss what to do with all the energy she had until now expended
on her husband.
Reflecting upon the past, Hana lacked the audacity to determine
to what extent her efforts had helped her husband. Nonetheless,
she had been extremely fortunate to have had for a husband a man
like Keisaku who had devoted his entire life to the welfare of
Wakayama Prefecture.
Keisaku’s dedication to the pursuit of one goal in life had
bound Hana closely to him. She remembered that years ago she
had been fleetingly attracted to Kosaku. Dispassionately studying
her brother-in-law; she tried to imagine what it might have been
like had she been the wife of such a passive man. Kosaku was
clever and had, to a certain degree, a mind superior to that of his
brother. After the hills had been turned over to him, Kosaku
had worked hard to plant trees, thus increasing tremendously
the value of the land. He was a shrewd man. All his life he had
been a bookworm and had obviously been more farsighted than
his brother in predicting the great changes they had lived through.
Nonetheless, Kosaku had not lived for anyone besides himself.
Ume, the only woman in Kosaku’s life, had not truly savored
 ses SE as

the rich fulfillment she herself had known, Hana thought. During
her husband’s lifetime, Hana had been extremely careful in her
behavior toward her brother-in-law and had even convinced
herself that she disliked him at one point. Nothing now remained
of her former attraction to Kdsaku. Yet Hana bore no ill-feeling
toward Kosaku, even though in all these years he had given
nothing of himself to anyone.
Hana had no idea how Kosaku was interpreting her long
silence. He rose to his feet and abruptly announced that he was
leaving.
His clogs had been placed side by side an inch apart on the
stepping stone at the entrance. The surface of the clogs had been
wiped clean with a damp cloth. Being excessively fastidious,
Kosaku took note of this.
“You have a very efficient maid.”
Nodding happily, Hana said:
“Yes, I know. Let me introduce her to you.”’ Clapping her
hands, Hana cried:
“Ojichi!”’
A small middle-aged woman came tripping daintily from the
kitchen and bowed when she saw Kosaku. She was fair-complex-
ioned and almost too elegant to be a maid.
“I serve my mistress as best I can.”
Oichi’s speech was crisp and pleasing. Not even Kodsaku could
have found fault with her.
At the time of Keisaku’s funeral, a number of women had come
to offer their assistance. Among them was one woman who stood
apart from the rest because of her extraordinary diligence. Long
after the funeral Hana remembered the woman with the neatly
tied sash. When she asked an acquaintance about her, she was
told that her name was Ojichi and that she had been born in the
city. When she was of marriageable age, her family had gone
bankrupt. She had never married and now lived alone. As she
was skilled at sewing, she did some work for professional seam-
stresses and gave sewing lessons to the young girls in the neigh-
 teh}:ia

borhood. When Hana asked Oichi to become her personal maid,

Oichi consented at once, adding that she would never regret
working for a woman like Hana. For some reason the two women
had taken an instant liking to each other. Oichi, who was still
a virgin, was obsessively fastidious. This pleased Hana ex-
ceedingly. Even after being told that they were to live in Musota,
Oichi was quietly resigned.
As she explained all this, Hana slipped into her clogs and walked
with Kosaku as far as the gate.
“You're very lucky. There will be terrible times ahead, so
you must have people around you that you can trust,” warned
Kosaku with a grim look on his face.
The incident at Nomonhan of 1939 had just occurred, and the
Japanese public had not yet been informed that the invincible
Japanese Army had been defeated by a Russian tank corps. Even
Hana was aware of the turbulence in the international scene.
“I suppose you're right,” said Hana.
“T know I am.”
“Will there be a war?”
“The China Incident is war. The Hiranuma Cabinet can no
longer keep the situation under control. It’s fine to read Hanako’s
diary, but you should also read the newspaper,” said Kosaku in
parting.
Without looking back, he passed through the gate and headed
for home. His thin kimono billowed in the wind, suddenly filling
out the outline of his retreating figure. His thin legs, which showed
below the hemline of his kimono, made his tall, gaunt figure
appear even more forlorn.
BOichis
“Yes?”
“Kosaku said that there’s going to be war.”
“Really?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Well, he’s probably right.”
“What makes you say that?”
 ak Ce aa
“In my opinion, a man of intelligence who remains idle can see
into the future far better than ordinary people who have to work.”
“So you agree with him.”
Just as Kosaku had predicted, Britain and France declared war
against Germany in September, and World War II officially
began. The repercussions were swiftly felt in the world of politics in
Japan. In 1940, Saitd Takao’s antimilitary speech was vehemently
attacked when Naval Commander Yonai Mitsumasa came into
power, and it was not long before the political parties gave way
to the military. The Tripartite Alliance was signed by Japan,
Germany, and Italy. An organization called “The Imperial Rule
Assistance Association”—which brought together the bureau-
cracy, the left wing, and the political parties—was established.
This development surprised even Hana whose knowledge of poli-
tics was limited. The word “emergency,” which Hana felt de-
scribed the situation perfectly, was widely used. A healthy state
of equilibrium no longer existed. Hana privately questioned
the authority of the military to pressure the government into a
war against such powerful nations as America and Russia.
Very worried about the Harumis who were in Java, Hana view-
ed with great interest the international situation and often ex-
pressed her anxiety in her correspondence with Hanako. Fumio
wrote back, reporting that anti-Japanese feeling among the Dutch
had intensified. She also mentioned that Eiji was having great
difficulty negotiating foreign exchange and that even the Javanese
were becoming hostile toward Japan.
Fortunately, Eiji was transferred to the bank’s main office in
Tokyo early the following year. The Harumis arrived back at
Yokohama Harbor and presently settled down in Tokyo. In a
letter to Hana, Fumio announced that they had been able to buy
a much bigger house than the one they had had in Omori. Fumio,
whose self-assurance would probably have been undiminished
if she had lived to be a hundred, invited her mother to come
and see how successful her husband was, even though he had
not inherited property from his family.
 Or

Hana ignored her daughter’s cold remarks. At about this time,

Java was hemmed in by the ABCD Encirclement—made up of
the American, British, Chinese, and Dutch armed forces—and all
Japanese assets in Southeast Asia had been frozen. Japanese-Ameri-
can foreign relations were on the verge of collapse. On December
8, a communiqué was issued from General Headquarters: “The
Imperial Army and Navy at dawn of the eighth entered a
state of war with the American and British forces in the West
Pacific.”
We, by grace of heaven, Emperor of Japan, seated on the
Throne of a line unbroken for ages eternal, enjoin upon
ye, Our loyal and brave subjects:
We hereby declare war on the United States of Amer-
ica and the British Empire. The men and officers of Our army
and navy shall do their utmost in prosecuting the war. Our
servants of various departments shall perform faithfully
and diligently their appointed tasks, and all other subjects
of Ours shall pursue their respective duties; the entire nation
with a United will shall mobilize their total strength so that
nothing will miscarry in the attainment of our war aims.*
The Imperial Rescript declaring war moved profoundly the
hearts of the Japanese people. The pacifists had no other recourse
than to become loyal and brave subjects.
Tomokazu, who was planning to be married immediately
following the period of mourning, had already received his
draft notice. Upon receiving an appointment, he entered the
Army Management School as a military cadet. In the spring of
1942, Tomokazu, dressed in his army uniform, was married in
an austere ceremony held in the Kudan Military Assembly Hall.
As for the bride, she wore a kimono with a simple design. The
photograph of the bride in her bridal hood and a black long-

* McNelly, Theodore. Sources in Modern East Asian History and Politics (New
York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1967), p. 151.
 Be 201 A

sleeved kimono filled Hana with feelings of regret for a long

time after the ceremony. There was also an air of loneliness about
the photograph, for the groom’s father was missing and the
wedding guests in attendance were not as impressive as those
who would have been present at the height of Keisaku’s influence.
A glance at the photograph conveyed the forlornness associated
with the wedding of a second son. Most unbearable to Hana
was the painful reality that such an austere wedding had been
the fate of a member of the Matani family.
“You're so old-fashioned, Mother. Don’t you realize that a
state of emergency exists throughout the entire world? The in-
stitution of the family is about to be totally abolished.”
Dressed in trousers that had been Eiji’s golf knickerbockers,
Fumio was on duty as a member of the Neighborhood Associa-
tion. She held in her hand some circulars on the assignment of
soldiers’ comfort kits and on air raid drills and appeared to be
in a highly agitated emotional state. She had once been a staunch
liberal. However, with the outbreak of war she had been complete-
ly transformed into a brave woman supporting fully the Japa-
nese cause. But Eiji had spent many years abroad and was very
pessimistic about the war.
“Everyone talks about the Greater East Asian Co-prosperity
Sphere, but the countries under Japanese military control have
been thrown into utter confusion, Mother. If we were honest,
we would call it the Greater East Asian Co-poverty Sphere.”
“These are terrible times indeed. I’m afraid one thing simply
led to another.”
“But the war will soon be over.”
“What makes you say that?”
“T’d be called a traitor if I said this outside the house, but Iknow
Japan will be defeated in the end.”
“Then it must be true.”
“Has anyone else said the same thing?”
“Yes. Seiichird. Kosaku also said Japan would be defeated and
was roughed up by members of the Young Men’s Association.”
 est Psat

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Fumio isn’t the only woman who keeps hoping that the war
will end in victory. It’s far more gallant to do one’s best to win
than to do nothing at all because one is so certain of being de-
feated.”’
Eiji stared from behind his glasses. He had caught a glimpse of
Hana’s courage, which Fumio had inherited. Since becoming his
wife, Fumio had demanded much of her husband. She also pos-
sessed the tremendous will to make her husband live up to her
ideal concept of a husband rather than merely observing him
and gauging his ability. Despite her rebelliousness toward her
mother, Hana’s blood ran in her veins.
Hana had made her way to Tokyo for Tomokazu’s wedding
and was staying with the Harumis. The house was indeed much
larger than the one in Omori. Nonetheless, the housecleaning had
been sadly neglected, for the maids had been commandeered.
The sitting room on the second floor, prepared for Hana in great
haste, was in a mess. There were no flowers in the vase in the
alcove. Hana picked up the vase to study it in detail and saw that
it was of fine porcelain. It was yellowish white with an indigo
design and reminded her of Sung vases and Korean porcelain of
the Yi Dynasty.
“It’s Sawankhalok porcelain,” explained Hanako, who followed
her grandmother about like a shadow. The art dealers told us that
it had been dug out of an old grave in Java. I interpreted for
my parents in Malay when they bought the vase.”
Hana realized at once that it was in fact highly prized Thai
porcelain called Sunkoro by Japanese antique collectors. It came
as a surprise to her that Eiji and Fumio had begun to take an
interest in antiques. Hanako opened a cupboard in the split shelf
and announced:
“We have lots more.”
To entertain her grandmother, Hanako took out the objects
one by one. She had her listen to the clear, bell-like sound that
the porcelain gave off when she flicked her fingernail against it.
 200
“What a beautiful sound!”
“It’s peculiar to Sawankhalok objects. This particular piece is
Balinese. It’s colorful all right, but it doesn’t give out that musical
sound.”
Hanako laid out a number of Sawankhalok plates, bowls, and
vases and tested them again and again for the sound. At first she
flicked the objects simply to amuse her grandmother, but grad-
ually she was carried away by her own interest in old ceramics.
“Has Sawankhalok porcelain always given off this bell-like
sound?”
“I would imagine so. It’s really lovely.”
Flicking once more the outer rim of a plate and listening
intently to the sound, Hanako said solemnly:
“Grandmother, do you realize that there were people who lived
in this world centuries ago?”
Hana marveled that Fumio, who had been trying to cut her-
self off so completely from the past, should have a daughter with
a genuine affection for things of the past. She had been feeling
despondent since her son’s wedding, but she suddenly felt her
spirits lifted.
“You're entering Girls’ School next year, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am. I’m now in the sixth grade. But I’ve had a bit of a
problem lately.”
“Oh2”
“In Java the teachers often told us to be Japanese and I studied
hard, never once forgetting that I was Japanese.”
SAndROR ee:
“And when I returned to Japan I found myself surrounded by
Japanese. I feel very strange and don’t know what to dom
Hana could not help feeling sorry for her grandchild. She had
probably been unsuccessful in making friends with her classmates
who had grown up in Japan. Trying to cheer her up, Hana said
brightly :
“Hanako, let’s go shopping. Let me buy you a kimono, since
I’ll be leaving soon.”
 ae”) Sas

“A kimono?”
Hanako’s eyes sparkled. Partly because of having lived abroad
and partly because of Fumio’s convictions, Hanako had never
even worn an informal summer kimono before. She envied her
friends during her second New Year in Japan, but the nation was
at war and Hanako, spoiled as she was, was not one to press her
parents into buying her clothes.
Hanako was truly beside herself with joy. Not wanting to over-
look a thing in the kimono department of the Mitsukoshi de-
partment store in Nihombashi, which she was seeing for the
first time, she peered into every corner. Nevertheless, these
were critical times and the kimono department which strictly
observed the prohibition on luxury had lost its former gaiety.
Displayed on a manikin was a bridal outfit to be worn in the
second part of a wedding, consisting of a narrow-sleeved kimono
over which was worn a garment resembling an underskirt. The
manikin struck a defiant pose. The silk crapes and thin brocades
had been pushed into a corner. However, instead of the cheaper
dyed material, some expensive pongee, whose subdued color had
prevented it from being banned, was placed in a display case.
The sale of kimonos of figured silk had obviously been banned.
Hana, who was not known in Tokyo as she was in Osaka, could
do no better than select a roll of silk crape with a design of white
peonies on a darkish pink ground. When she stretched the ma-
terial across Hanako’s back, the pink color brightened the girl’s
white cheeks and camouflaged her pale looks. Hana then bought a
roll of Oshima pongee for a haori to go with the kimono. The
pongee was ten times more expensive than a roll of silk crape,
but Hanako, who knew nothing about the true value of kimono
material, preferred the silk crape with the peony design and
clasped it tightly to her as they left the department store.
The two women made their way out between the stone lions
standing guard at the main entrance and strolled down the
street. As they approached the Nihombashi intersection, they
were stopped by a middle-aged woman whose kimono sleeves
 00m ~ ;

were tied back with a sash on which the characters “Japanese

Women’s Association” were written. The woman, who was
wearing a dark kimono and had her hair drawn back in a bun,
said in a dry voice:
“Please read this.”
There was not a flicker of emotion on her face as she handed
Hana a leaflet. Printed in bold letters on paper the size of a post-
card were the words:

We must fight to the finish! Please shorten your kimono

sleeves at once!
The Japanese Women’s Association
Tokyo Branch
“What does it say, Grandmother?” asked Hanako, trying to
read the words. But Hana shook her head and tucked the leaflet
into her sash.
““Hanako, let’s go home.”
Hanako romped about in the taxi they had taken, enjoying its
luxurious atmosphere, and thought back to her life in Java when
her family had a private car. Hana, on the other hand, was deep
in thought. Twisting a white handkerchief which she had taken
out of her one-foot-three-inch-long sleeve, she wondered how
material cut off from kimono sleeves could possibly be of any
use. That sort of pedantry was more than she could swallow.

Eiji had insisted that there was no need to evacuate his family,
so sure was he of Japan’s imminent defeat. However, the war
situation worsened and the Japanese military persevered longer
than he thought they would. Eiji became more pessimistic than
ever. Tomokazu, now a second lieutenant, came to visit the Har-
umis.
“You know, Eiji, Japan no longer possesses a single aircraft
carrier,” Tomokazu said grimly. He had, in fact, just divulged
a military secret.
Eiji looked pale.
 2 206 6

“Will we have to fight to the finish on Japanese soil then?”

“Yes. The army is insisting on it, although the navy disagrees
strongly.”
The war front in the South Pacific was already closing in on
the home islands. The Imperial Headquarters had issued a com-
muniqué which stated that Guadalcanal had been the turning
point in favor of the Japanese, but most people interpreted the
bloody battle as a retreat. Before long the annihilation of the
forces defending Attu Island was reported.
People were shouting hysterically: “Fight to the finish on Ja-
panese soil! A hundred million brave lives lost.” In late autumn
of 1943, Eiji and Fumio finally decided to evacuate their children.
By that time half of Hanako’s classmates had transferred to schools
in the countryside.
Kazuhiko was enrolled in the Literature Department of Tokyo
Imperial University. The draft exemption—the last privilege
permitted to students—had been extended to the autumn and then
terminated. It was therefore not known when college students
would be drafted. Fumio, who claimed to care little for the
family, nonetheless remained behind in Tokyo with Kazuhiko,
in deference to his position as eldest son. Hearing that Utae’s
children had been entrusted to Hana the previous month, Fumio
sent Hanako and Akihiko to Musota.
“Mother, just what is a family?’’ inquired Fumio unexpectedly.
“T really wonder about it myself at times.”
Determined not to start an argument with her daughter, Hana
gave an unprovocative answer and continued her work. She was
stitching together a sandbag which would eventually be used for
fire-fighting purposes. The sand with which the bags would be
filled had been fetched all the way from Isonoura by the members
of the Young Men’s Association and was piled high near the
Village Office and in the school ground. Following the first air
raid of April 1942, air raid drills were conducted regularly even
in the countryside.
“Seiichird vacated his house in Osaka and is commuting to
 ay 20g

the bank from the home of his wife’s parents in Kishiwada.

Tomokazu’s wife fled with her baby to Kyoto. Even Eiji’s older
brother has evacuated his children to his wife’s home. Don’t you
think that this is all very strange? The only ones returning to the
Matani house are Utae, myself, and our children. Mother. . .”
“What is it? And please don’t raise your voice.”
“Tt was quite natural to have a matrilineal family in primitive
society, don’t you think? After all, it’s the woman’s family one
can rely upon in an emergency.”
Taken aback, Hana looked up at Fumio, struck by her words.
She had analyzed her feelings as a widow’s grief, but here was
Fumio exposing the real cause of the intense loneliness she had
experienced of late. Hana could not tolerate having her eldest
son live with his wife’s parents. Not wanting to admit to herself
that she was a jealous mother-in-law, she had tried to convince
herself that Kishiwada was closer and therefore more convenient
for commuting to Osaka. Nevertheless, she could not help resent-
ing Yaeko for having snatched Seiichird away from her. What
was more, even though she felt that it could not be helped in view
of the times, she resented the fact that Tomokazu had joined the
army. And Tomokazu’s daughter, who was Hana’s first Matani
grandchild, had been carried off by Tomokazu’s wife to her
parents’ home. Indeed, as Fumio had pointed out, the heir, the
second son, and their families had stayed away from the Matani
house. At this critical stage of the war, those gathered about her
were her daughters and their children.
The matrilineal line. The woman’s family. Hana had observed
at first hand this strange phenomenon but had been unable
to explain it as precisely as Fumio had. Hana had firmly be-
lieved in and had herself lived according to the precept that
a woman severed her ties with her parents once she married.
As a younger woman, she could never have returned to the Ki-
motos with her husband, even if a natural calamity had devastated
Musota.
Indeed, a great change had taken place. Hana felt that she too
 aL

had changed. But her own upbringing made it impossible for her
to keep up with the times like Fumio. It was one thing for the
head of the family to be buffeted around by the affairs of the day,
but Hana knew her place was at home. She would remain quietly
ensconced in the sitting room until the sturdy beams started
cracking and the house itself collapsed.

With two of Fumio’s three children, Hanako and Akihiko, and

Utae’s children Gord, Yoko, and Etsuko, surrounded by these
five grandchildren, ranging in age from five to fourteen, Hana’s
daily life was once again extremely hectic. To make matters
worse, the tenant farmers had been called away to war, and so
their wives no longer came to help with the housework. The
only one left to help Hana—apart from the old men still living in
the quarters near the gate—was Oichi.
“Madame, doesn’t it seem as though the house is turning into a
kindergarten?” laughed Oichi, who never once showed any sign
of displeasure.
Hanako enrolled in Wakayama Girls’ School. She set out for
the city every morning with her first aid kit slung over her right
shoulder and her air raid hood over her left. Hana, Fumio, and
now Hanako had all studied at the school. Hana, her hair combed
up in a young girl’s parted hairdo and dressed in a long-sleeved
kimono, had attended the school fifty years earlier. Twenty years
ago, Fumio in a hakama with white trimmings had attended the
school. And now Hanako, dressed in pantaloons, was studying
at her mother’s and grandmother’s alma mater.
Every morning the students lined up in the school yard for the
roll call, the flag-raising ceremony, and the reading of the Im-
perial Rescript declaring war. The girls then marched in mili-
tary fashion to their classrooms, where not a book was to be
seen. Everyone was a member of the Students’ Patriotic Corps.
Day after day in the classroom building which had been turned
into a sewing factory, Hanako was made to sew collars on khaki
uniforms. It was an assembly line method of production: those
 a UO

who sewed sleeves sewed only sleeves, while others sewed only
trousers, or pockets, buttons, or buttonholes. All day the girls
were kept at this work.
Even while attending school in Tokyo, Hanako without fail
used to fall ill once a week and have to miss school. After trans-
ferring to Wakayama Girls’ School, she found herself spending
each day sewing on khaki collars, work which she detested. Her
constitution was such that, if she had to do something she dis-
liked, she would conveniently develop a fever. For this reason,
she missed three consecutive days of school. When she returned
to school, however, she was reprimanded severely by the teacher
in charge. He said that if she had been in the army, her punishment
would have been a long imprisonment. Hanako was the only
one in her group who sewed on collars; therefore, as a result of
her absence, there were over a hundred uniforms without collars.
IlIness was no excuse for being absent, she was told. Japan was
now fighting to the bitter end, and anyone -who fell ill was
showing weakness of spirit.
Because she was so weak, Hanako had been spoiled by her parents.
Besides which, she had grown up in a Dutch colony. All this made
it very difficult for her to abide by the strict rules of the Students’
Patriotic Corps.
“Grandmother, I don’t want to go to school any more. If I
can't quit, I’m going back to Tokyo,’ Hanako declared. But
Hana, who until now had always been very kind toward her
granddaughter, shook her head.
“Aren’t you afraid of the air raids?”
“Not at all. I prefer them to the uniform factory. I’ve had
enough of sewing on khaki collars day after day. ’'d much rather
be killed by an incendiary bomb in Tokyo.”
“Hanako!”’ cried her grandmother. “How can you even think
that when the entire nation is fighting a war?”
“But I’m not well. I have a fever.”
“If you're that weak, you won't be of much help, so go right
ahead and die.”
 aoe
A ei

Hanako looked up incredulously, but her grandmother carried

on in an offhand way:
“It doesn’t matter whether you die here or in Tokyo. I'll serve
as witness, so you can die right here.”
Hanako grew pale and stared for a long moment at her grand-
mother. Then, choking back her tears, she dashed out of the room.
“Madame, weren't you being a little too stern with her? She’s
still crying her heart out.”
Worried about Hanako, Oichi went back and forth between
the storehouse and the sitting room. Hana ignored her, asking only
that she leave the girl alone.
Hanako had run blindly to the far end of the corridor, where
the storehouse door had been left open. There she sought refuge.
Avoiding the light which streamed in from the second-story win-
dow, she lay down in the semidarkness between the rectangular
chests. She had been cornered, and, in her desperation, she writhed
as she wept. So loud was the sound of her crying that it seemed
as if the objects which had been stored away for years in the
chests might be shattered into tiny pieces. And so violent was her
weeping it seemed as if the heavy air might begin twisting itself
into a tornado at any moment.
“Madame . . . she’s been crying for over two hours.”
“She'll be all right, Oichi.”
“What do you mean?”
“A child who can cry like that can’t be very sick.”
“How true. She wouldn’t be able to cry this long without a
break if she weren’t healthy.”
Thus reassured, Oichi made her way back to the kitchen.
Thinking that Hanako, who usually had a small appetite, would
be famished after crying like that, she cooked an extra cup of rice
for dinner. Hanako really was kicking up a din: Oichi could hear
her from the kitchen sink. Shaking her head in wonder, Oichi
reflected upon Hana’s words.

In the spring of 1945 the house in Tokyo which Eiji had bought
 iti Poh

was bombed and burned to the ground. The family fled to the
home of Eiji’s aunt. In hot pursuit came a draft notice for Kazuhiko.
“Mother, I told him not to do anything rash, like being the
first to charge or trying to distinguish himself. I also begged him
to come back alive no matter what,” said Fumio, going over with
Hana in Musota what she had told her son when she saw him off.
Eiji had declared that he would stay with Shokin Bank until the
end, which was, after all, his duty as an employee, and remained
in Tokyo. As for Fumio, only once the Harumis had been burned
out of their home and Kazuhiko drafted into the army, did she
finally join her mother in Musota.
“You were perfectly right. I say the same thing to the young
men who come to see me before going into battle. How can one
wish anyone’s death?”
“Mother, what do you think will happen to Japan? Wakayama
is still peaceful, but it’s like hell on earth in Tokyo.”
“These are indeed terrible times.”
Fumio described briefly the situation in Tokyo to Hana, Oichi,
and Kosaku. She finally drifted off into a deep sleep in the bedding
spread out for her between Hanako and Akihiko and did not wake
up until the sun was high in the sky the next morning. What
with being burned out of one place and fleeing to another, Fumio
had been in desperate need of rest.
Several days later Fumio was completely rested and finally able
to have a long chat with Hana.
“Mother, I can’t believe that Hanako is so well! Her legs were
never very strong, so we sent her to a school near home in Java.
It’s incredible that now she’s able to go all the way to the city from
here.”
“Didn’t you yourself walk to Wakayama Girls’ School?”
“Yes, but I was as strong as a boy. And, of course, in those days
we had to walk: there wasn’t any public transport then. It must
be the country air that has done so much good for Hanako’s
health.”
Hana did not tell Fumio about the way she had told Hanako
 aS 212

to go ahead and die, for it was a time when people were abnor-
mally sensitive to the word death.
Fumio had remarked that Wakayama was peaceful. But, be-
ginning in June, Wakayama City became the target of frequent
bombing raids. In the dead of night on July 10, the city sustained
a massive bombing attack and was practically razed to the ground,
That night was a night of great confusion even in Musota.
“The air raid shelter won’t do!”
“Get your things and run!”
“Take to the hills!”
The leaders of the Neighborhood Association ran frantically
about the village calling out individual names. Hana held on
tightly to Hanako’s hand and Fumio and Oichi each took hold of
two of the children. They all raced along the footpath through
the rice paddies past Shin’ike and in the general direction of Kita-
yama.
“Look! The city’s burning.”
“Why, it looks so close! I wonder if the fire will spread to
Musota.”
“It’s hard to tell.”
Looking from Musota, Wakayama City appeared like a sea
of flames. Within this area of red, the castle became a dark
shadow and then itself turned red as the flames flickered up to
the tower.
“Oh, the castle. . .,” gasped Fumio. In that same instant
Hana, too, noticed that the castle had caught fire. The tower was
spouting flames which shot up to the sky. Then, a moment later,
the castle crashed to the ground.
“Grandmother!” cried Hanako in alarm as Hana, who had been
holding her hand, staggered and fell to her knees.
“Tm all right,” said Hana in a firm voice.

In the small villages outside Wakayama City that had escaped

war damage, the landowners’ livelihood remained in a state of
collapse long after the surrender. But in the war-ravaged cities
 RD Alia heah ;

people did their best to forge a new life for themselves. Mean-
while, Hana remained idle in Musota.
Utae, whose home in Osaka had not sustained any damage,
came immediately to fetch her children and carried back some rice
with her. Eiji, whose house had been burned to the ground,
summoned his family to Tokyo in the spring of the following
year. As for Kazuhiko, he had joined a corps without any weap-
ons. Shortly before being demobilized without sustaining a
single wound, he had been digging foxholes along a beach in the
Bodsd Peninsula. Eiji became a trustee of Shokin Bank when it
was dissolved. As a result of soaring inflation and frozen bank
accounts, he went through a period of hardship, ultimately
losing all that he owned.
Juice and sugar were rationed as a substitute for rice and in
order to obtain enough food to live on, there was little choice
but to barter one’s possessions. Fumio, Kazuhiko, and Hanako
survived from one day to the next. There had been no time
during the hectic war years to have a kimono sewn from the
material Hana had bought for her granddaughter. The lovely
material had been sent along with their things from Tokyo to
Wakayama, then from Wakayama back again to Tokyo. It was
traded for food before Hanako had a chance to see it become a
kimono.
Hanako went shopping with her mother to Nerima in the west
of Tokyo and saw before her eyes the colorful silk crape with its
peony design exchanged for a few pounds of barley. She called
silently on her grandmother as she watched the brown, gnarled
fingers of a farm woman unroll the lovely material and examine
the colorful design. Hanako had desperately wanted to keep it
as a souvenir of their shopping excursion to Mitsukoshi during
the war. The broken pieces of Sawankhalok porcelain lay scattered
in the scorched earth. And now this precious gift was about to be
handed over to a complete stranger. It hurt Hanako to realize
that, young as she was, all that remained now were memories.
“People talk of food, clothing, and shelter in one breath, but
 age
| aie

don’t forget, Hanako, that food is by far the most important of

the three.”
Hanako would not be consoled—even though she was well
aware of her mother’s attempts to convince her that it was wrong
to be sentimental about a luxurious roll of material when they
were practically starving.
“T wonder how Grandmother would feel about this.”
“Naturally, there would be other things to sell if we were in
Musota. If you had remained there, you would never have had a
taste of harsh reality.”
Hanako did not wish to face the reality of having to tote barley
and sweet potatoes. She expected her mother to express her sor-
row at having been forced to sell her daughter’s clothing. Her
grandmother would surely grieve to learn that the fine material
had been traded for food. She would be the best judge as to
which was more painful from a woman’s point of view: to part
with antiques or to part with one’s kimonos.
Fumio glanced timidly at her daughter who had sunk into a
moody silence. She had traded the kimono material because of
the impoverished state the Harumis had been reduced to by the
war. Nevertheless, she felt uneasy. Never having formed a deep
attachment to her own clothes, Fumio did not feel too sad about
parting with them. But, as a parent, it was painful to have to sell
that which by rights belonged to her daughter.
Fumio remained silent to avoid further strain in her relationship
with Hanako. So distressed was she by the poverty which had
forced her to trade clothing for food that she was unable to articu-
late her feelings.

Before the war, she had been in a position to send not only rice
but clothes and bedding as well, Hana thought as she took up the
newspaper. She was very much distressed to learn about her daugh-
ter’s troubles but was also painfully aware of the fact that the
Matani family was no longer wealthy. The farmlands had been
confiscated, and the tenant farmers released from their obligations.
 sis love
-

Landowners without land that they themselves cultivated had to

live on rations in the same manner as city dwellers. Seiichird
and Utae came from Osaka to buy rice. The villagers, feeling
obligated to Hana, could not very well sell the rice at unfair
black market prices, but they were very reluctant to dole out a
large quantity.
“Tsn’t it infuriating, Madame?” asked Oichi in a loud voice.
“They say that Matsu’s son in Misegaito owns five wristwatches.”
“People from the city probably came to trade them for food.”
“But there’s such a thing as a man’s place in society. What good
are five wristwatches to a farmer? It’s ridiculous!”
“You must remember, Oichi, that the farmers are forced to
barter. Blaming Matsu’s son will do no good.”
“Tm not blaming anyone in particular. I’m just infuriated by
this absurd world. These are difficult times, but it’s absurd that
Madame Chokui should be eating rice mixed with barley.”
“Japan has been defeated in war, Oichi. No one today pays any
attention to names like Chokui and Matani. Some people have had
their houses burned down, others have lost a member of the
family. Still others have suffered terribly from the atomic bomb.
When I think of such unfortunate people, I really have nothing
to complain about.”
“But Musota escaped war damage. In fact, no other place has
become as well-off as Musota since the end of the war. We’re
near the city and we’re near the mountains, and so people come
here to buy their rice and they come here to buy timber and
they don’t even stop to think of the price. The ones who are
making money now are the farmers around here and they used
to be tenant farmers of the Matani family. But look at them now,
the upstarts, declaring that landowners were members of the
exploiting class!”
“Fumio said the same thing thirty years ago. That idea isn’t
exactly new, you know.”
“But why must they pick on the landowners? Look at your
brother-in-law. He’s making a tremendous profit because his
 asa ils

trees sell so well. Frozen bank accounts don’t bother him in the
least. After all, the money he makes is far more than the income of
an ordinary farmer. He loaned Hachi, who plans to start a flour
mill, some money, and charged him a high rate ofinterest.”
“He’s just a shrewd businessman.”
“Well, if you ask me, he’s crafty. He took all the hills from the
main family and then has the gall to come occasionally with some
Kada fish and Hidaka eels, with that obsequious look of gratitude
on his face!”
Hana was quietly resigned to her fate, but Oichi resented
Kosaku and bore him no goodwill. She went about the house
all day long performing her chores with a vengeance, as though
her anger had become a source of energy. With only Oichi to
run the houschold, the housecleaning alone took until nightfall.
Furthermore, the rice rationed to them was unpolished, and so
one of Oichi’s duties was to have the rice hulled by a farmer who
lived in the vicinity.

“We've been having fine weather lately,” remarked Kosaku,

the only caller Hana had these days.
“Do come in,” said Hana, greeting him graciously. She was
seated on the veranda reading The Tales of the Heike. He took off
his clogs without a word and entered the house.
Oichi refused to make an appearance when Kosaku came to
call; therefore, Hana rose to her feet and offered him a cushion.
As she was about td go to prepare some tea, Kosaku said:
“Tl have some persimmon instead of that awful tea. This year
is specially good for persimmons. They’re a beautiful shade of
orange now.”
He then pulled out two persimmons, one in each hand. He had
picked them as he passed through the gate and slipped them into
his breast fold.
Hana returned from the kitchen with a plate and a kitchen
knife, for she no longer used special plates and paring knives
for fruit. In fact, she believed that persimmons were tastier when
 me ie

they had been peeled thickly with a vegetable knife.

Hana wiped the dust off one of the persimmons with a dish-
cloth and skillfully pared the fruit. She then offered it to her broth-
er-in-law. Kosaku helped himself to a piece and chewed on it
for a long time. Almost seventy, he had aged quickly; his gray
hair and emaciated body had not changed in the least in the past
ten years. However, it seemed that his false teeth no longer fit
well. It took him ages to chew and swallow the small piece of
fruit.
Hana peeled the second persimmon but curbed a desire to sink
her teeth straight into it. For it was one thing, she thought, to
watch an old woman sucking on the soft, well-ripened sort of
persimmon, but it was not at all pleasant to have to watch an old
woman struggling to get her teeth through the crisper kind of
persimmon. Realizing that the persimmons from the tree with a
branch grafted from Kudoyama were altogether too crisp for her
to be able to eat, Hana became painfully conscious of the passage
of time. Kosaku stared pensively at the book on Hana’s lap. He
seemed to be thinking about what to say next.
“That’s an old classic you have there. Have you been com-
paring the fate of the Heike with that of the Matani family?”
“Oh, no. It’s just that there’s nothing else for an old woman
to do but read.”
“A number of new magazines are being published now. I'll
bring you a few the next time I come.”
“Thank you. I’d like very much to borrow a few.”
The next day Kosaku came with two large bundles, one in
each hand, and set them down on the veranda. He unwrapped
one of the bundles which contained over ten magazines. Besides
the new issues of Kaizd and Chad Kéron, there were several new
magazines, such as Sekai, Ningen, and Tembd. Hana was glad that
magazines were being revived, but she was more impressed by
Kosaku’s financial ability to subscribe to them. Turning one of
the magazines over to check the price, she saw that it was far more
expensive than she had imagined. People living in a place like
 saa abies

Musota were not affected as much by inflation as were people

living in the city.
“Why are you so surprised?”
“These magazines are so expensive!”
“If you're surprised by the price, you'll be even more surprised
by what’s inside. We’re in for an even worse time than the war.
Before leaving, Kosaku untied the other bundle.
“l’ve brought you some eggs. It'd be a shame to let them rot
at home.”
It was because Kosaku spoke like this that Oichi felt disgusted.
Unable to close his eyes to Hana’s impoverished state, he tried
to show his goodwill in this manner. Kosaku had always spoken
sharply, as though he felt compelled to be perverse.
“Be sure you're well nourished before you begin reading these
magazines. You have to maintain a healthy balance between the
spirit and the flesh, you know. These magazines will not provide
you with any nourishment.”
Touched by his thoughtful concern for her well-being, Hana
meekly accepted his presents. Leading an uneventful life with
Oichi in the huge mansion, Hana feared that her mind and body
had atrophied. With the younger members of the family busy
earning enough money to live on, Hana could well understand
Kosaku’s strong feelings about the old taking care of each other.
After Kosaku had left, Hana picked up one of the eggs. She
tapped the eggshell with a jade hair ornament from her chignon.
Once she had managed to pierce a tiny hole, she quickly broke
the membrane with her finger and put the egg to her mouth.
The egg white combined with the yellow yolk tasted sweet. As
she swallowed the mixture, she felt the nourishment Kosaku had
mentioned run through her body. Hana helped herself to another
egg. Having obediently carried out her brother-in-law’s pre-
scription, she began to read the first page of Ningen.
“Madame, it’s dark outside and you're still so engrossed,”
remarked Oichi, switching on the light as she entered the room
with the dinner tray. Due to the food shortage, the wall of
 ONS Nea

formality between the two women had crumbled considerably.

Oichi’s speech was not as formal as it had been before the war,
and Hana addressed Oichi far too politely for a woman talking to
her servant. One reason for this change in attitude was that Hana
felt apologetic about being unable to do enough for Oichi.
After all, she had practically dragged Oichi home with her,
never dreaming that she would one day find herself in such re-
duced circumstances. On her part, Oichi had come to regard her
mistress, who had grown old graciously, as a dear friend to be
looked after with love and tenderness.
“Oichi, see what Kosaku has brought me.”
“Why, they’re just old magazines.”
“But I can’t afford to buy any. How much do you think a
single volume costs?”
On Hana’s dinner tray, there were two varieties of bean curd,
a sardine and parsley broth, a Chinese cabbage which Oichi had
grown, and pickled eggplants. Oichi served Hana rice mixed
with barley in a bowl with a morning glory design, serving
her just like a maid in attendance upon her mistress. Their re-
lationship was no longer as formal, but Oichi adamantly refused
to take her meals with her mistress, however often Hana urged
her to.
“Kosaku brought us some eggs.”
“Shall I fry one for you?”
Hana was unable to confess that she had had some raw.
“That won't be necessary, as I have the Koya bean curd. Please
put one in the soup tomorrow morning.”
“As you wish. I shall not be having any.”
“You're just as stubborn as Kosaku is. He isn’t as bad as you
think. He was so worried I would be shocked by the magazines
that he advised me to get some nourishment first. He’s genuinely
concerned about my health. It distresses me to see you so sullen
and uncivil when he comes to call.”
Hana was not so much lecturing Oichi as speaking up for her
brother-in-law. In her own defense, Oichi said curtly:
 eee Boe

“It’s disgusting to see a widower making a present of eggs and

telling a widow who is living alone to get some nourishment.”
Hana almost dropped her chopsticks. A chill ran down her
spine and her stomach contracted. She very nearly vomited the
eggs she had eaten a little while back.
‘Madame, you seem to be in pain. Didn’t the dinner agree
with you?”
“Tt isn’t the dinner. These new magazines are a bit too much
for me and they’ve made me feel a little dizzy, that’s all.”
Halfway through the meal, Hana told Oichi to lay out the
bedding for her. She had not been exaggerating. The magazines
were full of erotic stories with many a lurid turn of phrase. Hana
had been very shocked.
In an effort to understand postwar Japan, Hana read these maga-
zines and found herself confused and exhausted by their unbridled
attacks and wondering why the magazines sold at all. She was
both amazed and displeased that Kosaku bought such trash. Hana
found it unforgivable that there should be such a gulf between
the intellectual level of the critical essays and the low quality of
the fiction in the same magazine. Realizing that the elegance and
refinement which she so appreciated in literature had disappeared
altogether in modern Japan, Hana felt herself drained of all her
vigor.
Ume had died two years after the surrender. Kosaku now
lived with his son, Eisuke, and several grandchildren. As she lay
in bed, Hana thought of how her family had changed, of the
deaths and of the young additions to her family. She suddenly
wondered what Hanako, who was in Tokyo, was thinking about,
for among the grandchildren who had lived with her during the
war, Hanako was the only one who wrote to her regularly. Eiji,
whose heavy drinking had finally taken its toll, had died
unexpectedly this past summer. He had lacked the strength to
survive in the difficult postwar period.
Dear Grandmother,
- How are you? As I write to you from our little house
 ig 7A aaa

in Tokyo surrounded by poverty, I wonder why I think

back so fondly to the life I led in Wakayama. In those
awful years during the war and after the surrender, we
had a struggle finding enough food even in Musota. And
I was busy in the Students’ Patriotic Corps, sifting
through ruined houses and growing sweet potatoes. I
never even had any chance to enjoy myself in all that
time. And yet I look back on Wakayama with great
fondness. Is it because I was born there? Or maybe it’s
because, while life in Musota during the war was just
as hard as in Tokyo after the war, Musota is surrounded
by all that greenery. I realize, though, sitting here in our
wretched little house and going back over those years,
that it’s not because I’ve forgotten how much we suf-
fered in those days.
I think that I was happiest in Musota because I was
with you. I wonder if that is why I feel so fond of the
place, although I don’t think that’s the main reason.
It puzzles me that I should feel so attached to you, for—
as Mother is always saying—you are so much a member
of the Matani family.
Unlike Mother, however, I do not have any strong
feelings against the “family.” Mother rebelled so much
that you don’t need to worry about me feeling the
same way she did.
Grandmother, I was reminded recently of the word
“atavism.” Because of Mother, I was able to be closer to
you than any of my cousins. You yourself often said so.
As you know, I’m studying at Tokyo Women’s
College, Mother’s old college. I’m enrolled in the En-
glish Department like she was, but I think that my at-
titude must be very different from Mother’s. After all,
I’m working my way through college. Since Father’s
death, I have been receiving scholarships and working
part-time to pay for my tuition and clothing. I don’t
 ge) has

mean to boast; it’s considered quite common in Tokyo

these days. I mention this only because Mother is full of
remorse that even though she received a generous al-
lowance from Grandfather and you, she rebelled against
you.
In my study of English literature, I came across the
words of T. S. Eliot, who said that “tradition” should be
positively discouraged. I cannot understand tradition as
he describes it. According to Eliot, tradition negates all
that preceded it and will be negated by all that follows.
And yet I feel I know what he means when I think of
the bond between you and me. The “family” has flowed
from you to Mother and from Mother to me.
Please don’t laugh at me. One day I shall marry and
have a daughter. It amuses me to imagine how my
daughter will rebel against me and regard her grand-
mother with affection. And then, I shall think that, just
as people lived in the distant past and will continue to
exist in the years to come, however difficult the present
may be for me, I must live for tomorrow.
Now I know why I feel nostalgic about Wakayama. I
could not have made this discovery or experienced this
peace of mind and happiness if I had never been close to
you.
Hana wrote a reply to her granddaughter’s letter using brush
and ink. Instead of writing on beautiful Japanese paper, however,
she wrote on ordinary stationery. Hana did not even attempt
to explain the special bond between Hanako and herself. She
merely described her daily routine, choosing characters so her
message would fit on a postcard. Her letter was terse, but the
sheer beauty of the calligraphy made Hanako feel that it was
brimming with news.

After graduating from college, Hanako found work with a

 5203 8,
publishing firm and decided to start saving some of her salary.
“Besides paying for your meals at home, you'll need more
money for clothing than you did as a student,” argued Fumio.
She then asked her daughter what she was saving up for.
“It’s for a round trip ticket to Wakayama.”
“And just when do you plan to make this trip?”
“I don’t have a particular date in mind, but I'd like to go
back again one day.”
Kazuhiko, who worked for a business firm, was married. Fumio
kept a close eye on her bank account and her widow’s pension,
whose present value was greatly reduced because of the drastic
devaluation of the Japanese currency. She felt that she had to be
very frugal with her money until Akihiko had completed his
university education and had entered a firm. This sacrifice was
extremely painful for her. Recalling her own youth, she found it
unbearable to be unable to buy her children the things they
needed. To make matters worse, she had to rely on them for
financial assistance at times.
“Tt doesn’t do any good to talk like that, Mother.”
“But I’ve been thinking things over lately. I was hostile toward
landowners because I felt sorry for the people who worked for
me. In other words...”
“That’s right. It was because you were a landowner’s daughter
and didn’t have to work. I work, so I don’t have to feel sorry for
others who work.”
“I didn’t mean to seem in any way presumptuous.”
Fumio was over fifty years old. She had experienced hardship
and the loss of her husband following Japan’s defeat and had
suddenly aged. She had lost all her former vitality and had no
desire to argue with her daughter, who candidly voiced her opin-
ions.

At about this time they received word that Hana had suffered
a stroke. Fumio, in response to the promptings of her sons, rushed
to her mother’s side. However, she returned to Tokyo ten days
 aie
7,ae

later after learning that the stroke had been a mild one and that
Hana would be all right. Fumio later confessed that she had been
completely stunned by the ruins into which the Matani mansion
had fallen in the ten years since the war. She had hurried back to
Tokyo, because she could not bear to remain in the house any
longer. Shortly after the death of his beautiful wife three years
earlier, Seiichird had resigned from the bank and was now living
with Hana and Oichi. He was nearly sixty years old. He had
stopped working, it seemed, in a vain attempt to uphold the
dignity of an old family.
“I felt as if |were looking at the ghostly ruins of an old house,”
said Fumio in the Wakayama dialect. Hanako listened to her
mother, wondering if it were indeed painful to view the ruins of
a house in which one had grown up.
When Hana had her second stroke, Fumio received word
from both Utae and Tomokazu that this time her condition was
critical. There was not enough moncy for both Fumio and Hanako
to make the trip, so Fumio refused to go.
“T’ve already gone. You go this time, Hanako.”
“All right, Mother. I’ve saved enough money for the trip.”
It was the middle of summer, the hottest summer in ten years,
and the city pavements broiled under the midday sun. How
ironical it was that Hanako was escaping from this infernal heat
because her grandmother had fallen critically ill! With mixed feel-
ings of sadness at the approach of her grandmother’s death and
joy at returning to her place of birth, Hanako left Tokyo on the
night train. She transferred to a Wakayama-bound train in Osaka
and at noon the next day was walking along the narrow country
road in Musota.
In Tokyo, more than ten years since Japan’s surrender, modern
buildings were appearing everywhere and the city changed face
from one day to the next. But Musota appeared unchanged from
the time Hanako had sought refuge there during the war. The
waters of the River Yu, a tributary of the Ki, gurgling as they
always had, flowed between the rice paddies and filled the irri-
 pee '

gation ditches which Keisaku had suggested digging to prevent

flooding. Wakayama was as hot as Tokyo. As Hanako walked
along with her head bowed low, the sun beat mercilessly upon
the nape of her neck. The temperature was so high it seemed the
puddles of water would begin to boil. But the waters of the Yu
were cool and clear. When Hanako stooped down and placed
her hand in the water, it felt as cold as melted snow. Hanako
wondered how the river, whose waters were drawn from Iwade
Dam, had been given its name, which meant “boiling water.”
Along the way she passed an ox with a basket covering its muzzle,
but she had no recollection of having ever seen the young cow-
herd’s face. After all, even a child born in 1945 would now be
thirteen. Hanako reflected upon the years which had slipped by
since she moved back to Tokyo. In all that time she had not seen
her grandmother.
The ancient wooden gate of the Matani mansion was tightly
closed. Hanako leaned against the small side gate which opened
noiselessly. She was tall like her mother and grandmother and so
had to stoop to pass through the gate. When she looked up, all
she could see was green. It was as if she were being greeted by the
green leaves which were growing luxuriantly on the branches of
the persimmon tree inside the gate. They appeared transparent in
the sunlight. The heat had drained her of all energy, but now
Hanako felt fully recovered. She ran across the courtyard and
entered the house.
“Is anybody home? It’s me, Hanako,” she called out in a loud
voice. She could hear the sound of people moving about inside.
“May I come in?” she asked.
“Why, it’s Hanako!” cried Utae from the front door. Then im-
mediately she asked:
“But where’s your mother? Hanako, didn’t she come with
you?”
“No, she didn’t. Mother isn’t coming this time.”
“Just like her! She left so abruptly last time we were all taken
aback!’
 eee

“How is Grandmother?”
Utae’s expression grew serious as she explained the doctor’s
diagnosis. It was only a matter of time now. The right side of
Hana’s body was totally paralyzed. The best he could do was
suggest she rest quietly. Hana herself could no longer distinguish
between night and day.
Her mother had described the house as being dilapidated. Hana-
ko noticed, however, that the tatami straw mats were new and
that an air of opulence—as though money had recently been
lavished on the place—pervaded the entire house, which was
dimly lit under its old roof. Hana, realizing full well that her end
was near when she had her first stroke the previous year, had
suddenly begun to sell the objects in the storehouse to an antique
dealer. Oichi alone knew about this. Hana had had various re-
pairs carried out in the house and had even had some new cushions
made for her guests. Hanako ran into Oichi along the corridor
which led to the back of the house.
“How good of you to come! Madame talks about you all the
time. She’ll be so delighted to see you!”
Oichi was ten years younger than Hana, but she was now
seventy and bent with age. She stood there with her body thrown
forward from her stomach to her chin as though she were breath-
ing deeply.
“Ts it all right for me to go in unannounced? May I talk to her?”
“Why, of course. She’s longing to have someone to talk to.
Here, let me show you in.”
The two women entered Hana’s room at the end of the corri-
dor. It had once been used as a sitting room but had now become
Hana’s bedroom. Even though it was midsummer, the sliding
doors were tightly closed and dark curtains had been hung up all
around the room to keep out the light of day. As Hanako fol-
lowed Oichi into the room, her nose was assailed by a smell of
hospital, despite the fact that no disinfectant was being used. A
small light bulb cast an eerie light across the large room. Hana
lay on her side in the middle of the room, which was so dark one
 ae OA Sa ,

could not tell whether or not the sheets were white. In the dark-
ness, Hana’s face appeared small and shriveled. Hanako, suddenly
reminded of a mummy in a museum, stood still for a moment.
“Madame, Hanako has come all the way from Tokyo,” an-
nounced Oichi in a loud voice.
“Oh? Is she really here?” asked Hana without moving her
head or her quilt.
Hanako was worried that Hana, like Utae, might ask why Fu-
mio had not come, but all Hana said to her granddaughter, who
was kneeling down at her bedside, was: “It’s you. How kind of
you to come!”
Hana’s small eyes stared vacantly.
“Hanako. How old are you now? Twenty-seven? You'll make
little progress finding a husband on your own. Your mother be-
lieves that hers was a love match, but actually she was caught in
a trap set by the adults around her. A woman should not become
a career woman and remain unmarried.”
“Well, I’m certainly not opposed to marriage.”
“Your mother was twenty-seven when she had you. She made
such a big fuss then, even in front of the nurses in hospital. She
cried so much just giving birth to a tiny baby! All that lofty
talk about freedom and her attacks on feudal institutions. But
when she cried in labor, I knew she would never be a match for
the women of the past who stoically bore their pain. I was so
amused!”
Hana’s face was sadly ravaged by time, but her voice was
steady. Hanako, realizing that it would not do for Hana to talk
too much, worriedly glanced back at Oichi. How could she si-
lence her grandmother?
“She’s like this when she has her eyes open. Please sit with her
for a while.” Oichi said a few words to the nurse, who was
sitting at the foot of the bed massaging Hana’s feet, and left the
room.
One of the side effects of a stroke is that it produces a vivid
recollection of past events. Just when everyone had grown tired
 er eee

of listening to her, Hana had found a new listener; she therefore

began to chatter endlessly about all manner of subjects. Hanako
learned a little political history and heard in detail about the state
of the nation during the Sino-Japanese war of 1894 and the
Russo-Japanese War and all about World War I. She was even
told that her mother had been born feet first.
“Because of this, Fumio constantly rebelled against us from
the time she was a child. If she had been a boy, she might have
become an active member of the Socialist Party!”
“You mean the Liberal-Democratic Party, don’t you? Re-
member, she was receiving money from a landowner.”
Hana’s throat shook as she laughed a metallic laugh. When
Hanako’s eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she noticed that her
grandmother appeared younger than her eighty-one years. There
was still a faint trace of her beautiful features and fair complexion,
even though her face had withered with age. Her gums had shrunk
and so her false teeth forced their way out of her mouth whenever
she spoke, making it difficult for her to talk.
“Grandmother, hadn’t you better remove your false teeth?”
“Oh, no. It’s bad enough that I’m old. How much worse I’d
look without my dentures.”
Her grandmother must have been a very vain young woman,
Hanako thought. She still worried about her appearance even
though she was bedridden. Never once had Hana worn panta-
loons during the war years; she had insisted on wearing silk kimo-
nos with unshortened sleeves to the very end.
“Fumio, why did you leave so abruptly last time?” inquired Hana.
“Grandmother, Mother couldn’t come this time.”
Hana gave her granddaughter a strange look.
“Ts that you, Hanako?”
As her recollection of the distant past became increasingly vivid
recent events seemed unreal to her.
From the day of her arrival, Hanako was in constant attendance
upon her grandmother. After becoming ill, Hana had become
very self-indulgent and spent money as lavishly as when Keisaku
 sansa
1aoe

was alive. She presented all her visitors with gifts. Kawaguchi
Norio, who had inherited Keisaku’s constituency, had become a
member of parliament and had been appointed minister of state
in the previous year. During one of the minister’s visits, Hana
instructed Oichi to hand over to him fifty yen for his campaign
funds. Hana was totally confused about how the value of money
had changed. When someone tried to explain it to her, she re-
fused to listen and stuck to what she had said. She would lose
her temper when Hanako was not at her side. Informed that her
granddaughter was resting, she complained:
“Tsn’t an invalid more important?”
Hana took regular naps during the day, which meant that she
was wide-awake at night and very impatient with anyone who
felt sleepy. It upset her terribly when a person she summoned did
not come to her at once. She would then call for all the people
she could think of, demanding that they come to her in shifts.
Those summoned frequently—and promptly dismissed—were
Seiichird and Tomokazu. Seiichird depressed her. Tomokazu was
far too attentive and only succeeded in annoying her. Instead of
listening quietly to Hana, he often scolded her in teacherly fash-
ion for talking too much.
“Why do you keep telling me to be quiet?’” demanded Hana
defiantly.
“But it’s for your own good. You'll tire yourself out if you
keep talking like that, Mother. Why can’t you rest quietly?”
“I haven’t been out of bed for over ten days. I don’t feel like
eating anything, and I can’t see what I want to see. If you tell
me not to talk, what in the world have I left to do?”
“Don’t think about anything and rest.”
“But you need discipline to make your mind a complete blank.
Do you think it’s possible for someone as sick as I am to sit in
religious meditation?” Hana asked angrily.
The doctor had said that it was just a matter of time. He advised
the family to restrain Hana from talking, as it would be debili-
tating for her to talk too much.
 ane

“Talk about subjects that won’t provoke her. The best thing
to do would be to have the person nursing her monopolize the
conversation. The next best thing would be to read to her.”
In a separate sitting room were gathered Hana’s children,
relatives, and old farmers and landowners who had been asso-
ciated with Keisaku. Eisuke from Shin’ike sat among them; K6-
saku, his father, had died two years earlier. They all agreed to read
to Hana. Tomokazu shook his head when it was suggested that
they read to her the best-sellers Hanako had brought with her.
“Don’t you think the stories will upset her?”
Utae agreed.
“Mother is fond of reading modern novels which have been
well reviewed. But it would be too tiring for her to concentrate
while they were read aloud to her.”
Someone then suggested that they read to her her old favorites.
They all agreed that this was a splendid idea but were at a loss
as to which books to read. After a long pause Seiichird spoke:
“I suppose we ought to read to her works like The Tale of Genji
and The Tales of the Heike.”
Everyone looked a bit dismayed to hear she would be read
something in classical Japanese. Some of them had never even
read The Tale of Genji but were under the impression that it was
terribly difficult. Seiichird suggested another possibility.
“Mother was reading the historical work Masukagami before
she fell ill.” ,
“Masukagami?”
A few of those gathered together in that room nodded know-
ingly as though they were familiar with the work. It was there-
fore agreed that Masukagami would be read. Misled by the casual
manner in which the selection was made, others who had never
heard of the classic assumed that it was an easy book to read.
Hana’s face broke into a rare smile when it was announced that
Masukagami would be read to her.
A glance at the book which Seiichirod had fetched from Hana’s
desk was enough to make everyone regret their hasty decision.
 ues lee

The old headman of a neighboring village disclosed the fact that

he was an ex-farmer and raised his hands to show how rough
they were. It would have been expecting too much to ask such a
person to read to Hana, even though he did not actually come
out and say that he could not read the text. It was finally decided
that Seiichird, Tomokazu, and Hanako would take turns reading
to Hana. Hanako was graciously resigned to being the one to read
to Hana all through the night.
“Grandmother, let me read to you.”
“T'd like that very much.”
An old lamp had been fetched from the storehouse and placed
at Hana’s bedside so that its light shone on the book. Hana began
to read aloud the first page.

The retired Emperor Go-Toba was the eighty-second em-

peror since the establishment of the imperial line. His given
name was Takahira, and he was the fourth son of the retired
Emperor Takakura. His mother, Shichijd-in, was the daugh-
ter of Suri no Daibu Nobutaka. When she was known as
Lady Hyde no Suke, she had been in attendance upon Her
Imperial Majesty during the reign of Emperor Takakura.
Having secretly received His Imperial Majesty’s favor, she
gave birth to Takahira on the fifteenth day of the seventh
month of the fourth year of the Jijd reign period (1180).
The opening pages of the work—like the Bible and The Records
of Ancient Matters—were extremely boring, but Hana seemed to
be listening with great pleasure. Having majored in English
literature, Hanako was not very good at reading classical Japa-
nese texts. Nonetheless, she was curious to know more about the
author and the content of the work and so took her assignment
seriously. When she came across passages she could not under-
stand, she held her breath and read as fast as she could. Now and
then she would come to a long string of kana syllabary and not
know where to pause for breath. At such times, she recklessly
attacked the passage.
 i PLT
7

“Hanako, I think you read the passage incorrectly.”

Speaking in a loud distinct voice, Hana did not hesitate to in-
terrupt her granddaughter. After twenty minutes of reading,
Hanako realized how difficult her task was. To begin with, the
text was far from simple. Furthermore, Hana was very strict about
having the work read accurately.
“l’m completely exhausted. Please let me rest for a while.”
“Why, of course,” said Hana, who could be reasonable at times.
The nurse, who had been massaging the lower half of Hana’s
body, had slipped away. Since Hanako could not very well leave
her grandmother unattended and go out of the room to brew
some tea, she put the book down and sat there idly. Looking over
at her grandmother, Hanako noticed that she had her eyes closed,
although she did not appear to be asleep. The old woman’s hair
lay disheveled about her face. In the past Hana had seated herself
in front of the mirror and had taken great pains in combing her
hair so that not a single strand was out of place. Now, however,
her tangled hair appeared as though it had not been combed in
days. Instead of feeling repelled by the sorry state of her grand-
mother, Hanako longed to do something about the situation.
“Grandmother, would you like to have me comb your hair?”
“Yes, please. It’s so very dry,” responded Hana happily.
The white hair was as stiff as wire from its very roots and
refused to stay down even after being carefully combed with a
boxwood comb. Recalling that she had seen Seiichird’s pomade
in the lavatory, Hanako ran to fetch it. When she returned with
the jar, Hana was stroking her hair with her left hand. It was such
a thin arm! Fascinated, Hanako watched her grandmother’s hand
pass again and again through her hair from her forehead back to
the back of her head. Hanako held her breath for a long moment,
keenly aware of the vitality that Hana still possessed. As she nursed
her grandmother, Hanako felt that she saw in her emaciated body
a chart of the decline of the Matani family. It astounded her to
discover that Hana had not yet lost the desire to make herself as
presentable as possible.
 eA,
iYea

Hana’s sense of smell was still as sharp as ever. When Hanako

removed the lid and rubbed a small quantity of the pornade into
the palms of her hands, Hana remarked:
“It smells terrible. What is it?”
“Just some pomade. I thought it would help keep your hair
in place.”
Hana no longer complained as Hanako rubbed a generous
amount of pomade into the white hair.
“Didn't they use a special kind of hair ointment years ago?”
“Yes, indeed. It also had an awful smell!”
As though trying to picture her grandmother as a beautiful
young woman, Hanako gently combed Hana’s hair so as not to
scratch her scalp. Hana was so pleased she plunged into another
long soliloquy.
“You've never combed my hair before. Fumio, you're already
over fifty. How fortunate you are to have such a fine daughter!”
Hana again confused the two women and spoke to Hanako as
though she were Fumio.
“T’ve always let you speak your mind and do as you pleased.
Have I ever failed to send you the money you requested while
you were in college and even after you married Eiji? And yet how
you ranted endlessly about independence and freedom! Hanako
would laugh if I told her all about it. Both Kazuhiko and Hanako
are such wonderful children. You must have been a good mother
after all. One can never judge whether or not a woman has been
successful in life without observing how her children turn out.
Fumio, you've always rebelled against me, but I wanted you so
much to remain near me. Seiichir6 was unreliable. Tomokazu
used the excuse that he was only the second son and let his wife
run his life. How depressing it was to look after the Matani
household all by myself! As a woman grows old, the thing she
wants most to do is spend money extravagantly. It was the one
thing I had not been able to do in recent years. That’s why I’ve
been so extravagant since I had my first stroke and realized that
death was around the corner. You probably don’t know about
 sao hae

the lavish celebration I had after the mats were changed. Now
many people come to see me when they hear that I’ve had a
stroke, because they know I’m very generous. You've always
disliked the old-fashioned custom of exchanging presents, but it’s
really great fun.”
Hana laughed a laugh that was both throaty and nasal.
“The family fortune began to dwindle from the time your
father spent money as he pleased. Even if there had been no war
and I had lived frugally, the family fortune would have been
exhausted in Seiichir’s generation. The Matani family from
which you ran away years ago has already become stuff for the
history books. Take a look in the storehouse. All you'll find there
are a few worthless objects. The only thing of value is my mini-
ature screen.”
The miniature screen was of the sort that was propped up in
front of an inkstone for decoration. Hanako remembered helping
her grandmother take care of it during the war. Even a large screen
of this kind would be only about four inches high. The one in
Hana’s possession was of exquisite craftsmanship with an elaborate
design of jade and ivory. Nonetheless, it was of almost negligible
value and so, if sold, would hardly bring in any money at all.
Hana suddenly laughed.
“The storehouse is empty now, you know. Fumio, you often
said that you couldn’t stand seeing a woman so completely de-
pendent upon her husband and eldest son. You also said that being
submissive was ridiculous. But I never thought of myself as being
submissive. All I’ve done was to work as hard as I could. When
your father was Speaker of the House, I did my best as the wife
of the Speaker of the House. When your father became a member
of parliament, I did my best as the wife of a member of par-
liament. And when Seiichird entered Tokyo Imperial Univer-
sity, I did my best as the mother of a student attending Tokyo
Imperial University. I really tried to do everything I could for
Seiichir6 until [ realized that he was just a pale imitation of your
father. There was nothing more I could do.”
 es Fea ide

At what point and to what degree had Hana been disappointed

in her eldest son? She remained silent for a while, unable to crystal-
lize her feelings of disappointment. When she had finished comb-
ing her grandmother’s hair into a neat bun, Hanako returned
to her usual place. She used several sheets of tissue paper to wipe
off the oily pomade whose smell clung tenaciously to her fingers.
The cold night air pierced her body, causing her to shiver.
“Your father once said that he wished you had been a boy.
Seiichird had disappointed him relatively early. After that I did all
I could to see that Seiichird did not disgrace the family. Fumio,
I felt so lonely when you ignored my efforts.”
In the hectic days following Japan’s surrender, Fumio had not
had a moment to think about the Matani home. She had of
course requested money and had turned over her children to
Hana, thus preserving on the surface the natural bond between
mother and daughter. All the while, however, she had continued
to rebel against her mother. Hana had therefore kept a lonely
vigil over the dwindling family fortune. It was difficult for young
Hanako to comprehend fully the intense loneliness her grand-
mother had experienced. As Hana continued her monologue,
her teeth protruded from her mouth and a smile spread across
her wrinkled face.
“That’s why I was so happy when our land was confiscated. I
knew then that the Matani fortune could never be restored, so
there was no reason to feel apologetic toward our ancestors.
Instead of feeling that all Ihad worked for was in vain, I felt elated
and wanted to cry out your name. I gave the excuse that it was for
tax purposes and sold all the objects of value. Now that! didn’t have
to worry about what would happen after my death, a heavy burden
was lifted from my shoulders and I was filled with great joy.”
Once again Hana laughed.
Indulging a desire which she had held in check all her life, Hana
had begun to lead a life of limitless extravagance soon after suf-
fering her first stroke. She had grown cheerful and had lavished
money on herself just as money had once been spent freely on her
 FO

husband, paying no attention to her widowed son. Tomokazu

took a dim view of her behavior, but Utae could not help being
impressed. As for Fumio, she had simply shrugged her shoulders
when she heard about her mother’s wild spending. Everyone had
misunderstood Hana. Seiichird, the only one who was unwilling
to have his daily routine disrupted in any way, continued to live
quietly with his mother. He had resolved to die an idle man, up-
holding to the end the dignity of an old family.
Hana, however, did not wish to cling tenaciously to her chil-
dren in the little time remaining for her. She spoke of what would
happen upon her death.
“You'll be receiving a great many obituary gifts. But you won’t
be able to do anything in return. It amuses me no end to think of
how all of you will panic after my funeral.”
Her gay laughter filled the dimly lit room. Hanako felt
keenly the cold night air in her bones. Fearful that her grand-
mother would be completely exhausted if she continued to talk
like this, Hanako took up Masukagami.
“Let me continue my reading.”
“Yes, please do. Read chapter seventeen of the last volume.”
Chapter seventeen. Parting in spring. From the end of the
fourth month, the illness of the retired Emperor grew critical
and the whole world was greatly distressed. His Imperial
Highness was sorely grieved. The prayers and incantations
were intensified, but there was no sign they had any effect.
The retired Emperor grew steadily worse as day and night
people came to inquire after the state of his health. Young
courtiers, wearing folded caps, scurried about. Not distin-
guishing between night and day, they spurred their steeds,
obtained from the Bureau of Horses, to far-off Sagano. Upon
hearing that the retired Emperor was critically ill. . .
Hanako looked up from her reading and saw that Hana’s eyes,
nestled in her deeply furrowed face, were open, unblinking,
reflecting the dim light from the lamp.
 73 baie

A strange sensation swept over Hanako when she thought of

Hana’s blood running through her own veins. The spirit of the
Matani family still lived within her. There was indeed a powerful
bond linking Toyono to Hana, Hana to Fumio, and Fumio to
Hanako. Hanako felt that her grandmother’s heartbeats were
pulsating in her own breast and no longer sought to decipher the
cryptic text she was reading aloud. Had the Buddhist priests—
who for thousands of years had chanted the sutras before the
statue of Buddha, the object of worship of hundreds of thousands
of men and women—experienced a similar emotion? No longer
did Hanako feel that she was reading the text as a devoted grand-
daughter. Believing that this was what was required of her in
order to inherit from Hana the vitality of the countless women
who had lived and died in the family, she read as one possessed,
not realizing that she had raised her voice.
The door slid open.
“Hanako, Mother will be thoroughly exhausted if you read
to her like that.”
The blurred outline of Tomokazu’s face peered into the room.
His eyelids were swollen.

Hanako awoke one morning well past noon. As she washed her
face with cold water drawn from the well, she suddenly thought
about how long she had been away from Tokyo. She was com-
pletely exhausted and her eyes were sunken. Hanako reflected
upon the life she had been leading as she awaited her grand-
mother’s death. She took a bite of the tasty pickled radish which
was a regional delicacy and thought that she could not be ex-
cused indefinitely from her job.
Oichi, all on her own, was busily drawing water, and then
throwing firewood into the fire in the stove. A visitor appeared
at the entrance. People came to visit Hana daily and after visiting
with her, they stayed a while to chat with the other members of
the family. Finding themselves generously treated to saké and
refreshments, they returned home wearing puzzled looks on their
 a 0 oe

faces. Even the members of the household who had been told by
Hana to serve the refreshments appeared perplexed. Hana’s illness
showed no noticeable change, but the family were worried that
her condition might worsen at any time. Meanwhile, they had
little to occupy themselves with. Oichi alone was kept busy
taking out and putting away saké bottles, lacquerware, and
Kutani plates. She popped in occasionally to serve Hanako, who
was sitting at the dining table in the kitchen, but did not pause
to chat as she rushed around taking out old saucers and tea
bowls from the shelves and cupboards. Hanako was familiar with
these objects which she had often seen during the war years. Hana
was very fond of them and in this dark mansion each object ap-
peared restless. The plates and glasses in Hanako’s house in Tokyo
all had the quiet air of inanimate objects about them, but here
every tea bowl seemed to have a story to tell. This was true of the
other things in the house as well: the stout pillars which reflected
a somber light, the ceiling, the sliding doors with their large
frames and deep grooves along which they ran, and even the
badly scratched walls of yellowish brown. Everything in the
house Hanako could see seemed to be whispering to her. The very
food she had just eaten seemed to weigh heavy in her stomach.
Hanako went into the storeroom and changed into a colorful
dress. She had brought with her a number of more sober dresses
and had begun to feel depressed after wearing them day in day
out. Hanako now had on a cotton dress with a bold print of
tropical flowers which fit her perfectly; it also suited better the
mood she was in and she soon found herself feeling positively
cheerful.
The family members who had gathered in the drawing room
had apparently run out of things to talk about. Over and over
again they had listened to the same stories and had had enough of
them by now. Seiichird, who sat there among them, a benign
look on his face, had not taken part in the conversation.
“Uncle, won’t you join me for a walk?”
“Yes, why not?”
 Everyone in the room was taken aback, especially since Seiichiro,
who rose slowly to his feet, and Hanako in her gaily colored
dress made such a study in contrasts.
In Tokyo, it would have been a little too early in the day for a
walk, but here the air—free of smoke and dust—felt pleasantly
bracing and the strong sunlight pleasantly warm. Seiichird
walked along in complete silence, unaffected by his niece’s rather
forthright appearance.
“Uncle, how old are you?”
“Four years older than your mother,” replied Seiichird some-
what reluctantly. He would probably have remained silent in-
definitely had she not spoken. They strolled leisurely northward
along the path through the rice paddies. Hanako inhaled deeply
and felt that the blue skies and all the surrounding greenery were
being drawn into her lungs. She felt her body immersed in the
fragrant air warmed by the summer sun.
“How much longer do you intend to remain single?”
“What do you mean? At my age, no woman would have me.”
“You know that isn’t true. After all, you're still in your fifties,
aren't you? You shouldn’t think of yourself as being older than
you really are.”
“But I’m already fifty-nine. I’ll soon be turning sixty.”
Not at all amused by Hanako’s interrogation, Seiichiro did not
answer her seriously. Hanako was five-foot-five and considered
tall for a Japanese woman. Her uncle, though endowed with a
fine physique, had a weak personality. This good-looking man
had done nothing to stave off the family’s decline. Hanako could
hardly suppress the impulse to shake him very hard.
Nonetheless, she assumed a casual attitude. Placing her hand on
her uncle’s arm, she drew up closer to his side. The two walked
on in silence. Stealing a glance at her uncle, she saw that he was
staring straight ahead with a set look on his face. Hanako, aware
of how nasal her voice sounded, asked Seiichiro in a teasing tone:
“Uncle, do you spend each day at home doing absolutely
nothing?”
 ge 9) tae

“Why, yes.”
“Don’t you ever get bored?”
“At times.”
Hanako waited to see if he would say anything more. However,
it seemed that that was all he intended to say.
“What did you dream about doing when you were young?
You can’t always do what you want to, but you must have once
had some goal you wanted to accomplish in life.”
“Let me think.”
After a lengthy pause, Seiichiro said:
“I guess I’ve never had any particular goal in life.”
Hanako’s right arm was sweating profusely under the hemp
of her uncle’s robe. She had grasped hold of his arm with all
her strength. Just when she was beginning to feel rather awk-
ward, her uncle said with the utmost politeness:
““Hanako, please let go of my arm.”
Seiichird walked over to the roadside and turned to face the
rice paddies. Slowly he tucked up the front of his kimono.
The sun was beginning its westward journey and white clouds
drifted lazily across the sky. The distant woods and mountains
melted into subdued colors, and the earth and sky met each other
in a graceful diffusion of light. Embarrassed, Hanako walked
slowly back along the road they had come down, trying not to
listen to the sound behind her. She realized that the head of the
household was not affécted as profoundly by the Matanis’ decline
as the women in the family.
Upon returning to Agenogaito, they heard the children making
a great deal of racket in the courtyard. As it was summer vacation,
Utae and Tomokazu had brought their children along to be with
their grandmother in her final days. Not stopping to think of their
ailing grandmother resting in her room, the cousins, who had not
seen each other for some time, were hard at play. But the commo-
tion they were making was more than they managed normally.
“I wonder if anything’s wrong.”
“Tt looks like it.”
 Seale

Seiichird was as worried as Hanako. Hanako took a deep breath

and ran into the courtyard.
“What's the matter?” she asked. She looked down and swal-
lowed hard. A white snake was writhing in front of the store-
house, so weak it could not coil itself up. It was quite something
to see this six-foot-long snake helplessly writhing under the
midsummer sun. It was difficult to tell whether it really was white
or whether it had once been striped but had shed its skin. It had
slithered along the rain gutters from the east storehouse to the
west storehouse. The dying snake had been discovered after it
had fallen to the ground by Hideo—Tomokazu’s eldest son and
Hana’s long-awaited grandson by one of her sons. Little Hideo,
who was only four years old, had bravely struck the old animal
with a stick.
The white snake—like a white rabbit—had red eyes which
stared up at the sky and were utterly expressionless. Hana’s
grandchildren were not familiar with the story of the snake that
lived in the Matani storehouse. They clustered around the dying
snake with the typically innocent cruelty of children. Hanako sud-
denly noticed someone at the gate and looked over in that
direction.
“Mother...”
Fumio stood there with a canvas bag and a scarf-wrapped bun-
dle in one hand, smiling shyly.
‘T’m here,” murmured Fumio, like a bashful schoolgirl, and
pressed her hand against her gray hair for a moment. Once again
she smiled.

Hanako was on her way back to Tokyo that very day. When
she crossed Musota Bridge, she felt her body reverberate with the
heavy sound of the waters of the River Ki, full from bank to bank
even though there was a water shortage in Tokyo. The roar of the
river from the dam that could be seen upstream was causing the
vridge girders to vibrate. Soaring dizzily skyward to the south-
west was the dazzling white tower of the newly rebuilt Waka-
 ge mae

yama Castle. Postwar industrial development in Wakayama

Prefecture was controlled by Osaka capital; therefore, plans were
made to develop Wakayama City into a tourist attraction. Three
years earlier, the decision had been made to rebuild first of all
the castle tower.
Thirty minutes later, Hanako crossed Ichinohashi, entered the
grounds of Wakayama Park, and quickly made her way up the
slope toward the tower. The second gate appeared to be freshly
painted and still wet. As in the past, tickets were being sold at
the entrance.
The lighting inside the main tower, neglected in the past, was
vastly improved. The tower itself was of ferro-concrete. There
was linoleum on the floor and displayed in the large glass cases
were objects of historical significance that had once belonged to
the Tokugawa shoguns. Also on show were famous products of
Ki province. After a quick look at the display cases, Hanako,
recalling the first time she had come here with her grandmother
twenty years earlier, climbed up to the lookout platform on the
third floor. Wakayama fanned out below her, rich with greenery
as it had been in years gone by.
A large telescope that had been installed in one corner caught
her eye. Tourists were looking through the lens and moving the
instrument to the left and to the right. Put a ten-yen coin in the
slot and one could use the telescope for a limited time.
Hanako waited for‘her turn. She then fed in a coin and looked
quickly through the telescope. Below her lay Wakayama, which
had been speedily reconstructed after the war. Looking up, she
saw the blue sky. Finally getting the instrument under control,
she focused the lens on Musota and could even make out the
Matani mansion in Agenogaito. It was not much more than a
dot but was still clearly visible.
On this side of Musota, the River Ki appeared smooth and
tranquil, giving the impression its waters were perfectly still. The
river was a lovely blend of jade green and celadon. Hanako slowly
turned the telescope downriver and was impressed that the color
 ay 243°

was the same. The ugly smokestacks close to the mouth of the
river loomed into her scope of vision. The huge factory of Sumi-
tomo Chemicals, funded by interests in Osaka, spread out slightly
to the north of the river’s mouth. Keisaku’s dream had been to
develop both waterworks and agriculture so that Wakayama
would not be ruined by outsiders. But the war had destroyed his
dream. Disappointed to have the magnificent view marred by an
ugly factory, Hanako stepped back from the telescope. The forest
of smokestacks rapidly receded into the distance and beyond them
lay the ocean.
Hanako heaved a sigh of relief and in that instant the telescope
clicked: the lens cap had automatically closed. She moved away
from the telescope and gazed for a time at the vast, mysterious
ocean whose color changed as the sunlight played upon the waves.
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 KODANSHA INTERNATIONAL DICTIONARIES
Easy-to-use dictionaries designed for non-native learners of Japanese.

KODANSHA'S FURIGANA JAPANESE DICTIONARY

JAPANESE-ENGLISH / ENGLISH-JAPANESE i3\5 p\ecqna8 - seqnaese
Both of Kodansha’s popular furigana dictionaries in one portable, affordable volume. A truly com-
prehensive and practical dictionary for English-speaking learners, and an invaluable guide to
using the Japanese language.
* 30,000-word basic vocabulary * Hundreds of special words, names, and phrases
¢ Clear explanations of semantic and usage differences ¢ Special information on grammar and usage
Hardcover, 1318 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2480-0

KODANSHA’S FURIGANA JAPANESE-ENGLISH DICTIONARY

Sh VO DARE
The essential dictionary for all students of Japanese.
¢ Furigana readings added to all kanji _* 16,000-word basic vocabulary
Paperback, 592 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2750-8

KODANSHA’'S FURIGANA ENGLISH-JAPANESE DICTIONARY

PM BO DS RALEER
The companion to the essential dictionary for all students of Japanese.
¢ Furigana readings added to all kanji * 14,000-word basic vocabulary
Paperback, 728 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2751-6

KODANSHA’S ROMANIZED JAPANESE-ENGLISH DICTIONARY

mek O-V SRR
A portable reference written for beginning and intermediate students.
* 16,000-word basic vocabulary — * No knowledge of kanji necessary
Paperback, 688 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2753-2

KODANSHA'S CONCISE ROMANIZED JAPANESE-ENGLISH DICTIONARY

IYO Ah O-V FAA
A first, basic dictionary for beginner students of Japanese.
* 10,000-word basic vocabulary * Easy-to-find romanized entries listed in alphabetical order
* Definitions written for English-speaking users
¢ Sample sentences in romanized and standard Japanese script, followed by English translations
Paperback, 480 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2849-0

KODANSHA’S BASIC ENGLISH-JAPANESE DICTIONARY

BABYS BRO R
An annotated dictionary useful for both students and teachers.
* Over 4,500 headwords and 18,000 vocabulary items * Examples and information on stylistic differences
* Appendices for technical terms, syntax and grammar
Paperback , 1520 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2895-4

THE MODERN ENGLISH-NIHONGO DICTIONARY

BABYS RAR
The first truly bilingual dictionary designed exclusively for non-native learners of Japanese,
* Over 6,000 headwords — * Both standard Japanese (with furigana) and romanized orthography
* Sample sentences provided for most entries * Numerous explanatory notes and kanji guides
Vinyl flexibinding, 1200 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2148-8

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 KODANSHA INTERNATIONAL DICTIONARIES
Easy-to-use dictionaries designed for non-native learners of Japanese.

KODANSHA'S ELEMENTARY KANJI DICTIONARY

HK ASR
A first, basic kanji dictionary for non-native learners of Japanese.
¢ Complete guide to 1,006 Shin-kyoiku kanji * Over 10,000 common compounds
¢ Three indices for finding kanji * Compact, portable format * Functional, up-to-date, timely
Paperback, 576 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2752-4

KODANSHA’S ESSENTIAL KANJI DICTIONARY

FAR BRR Aaa
A functional character dictionary that is both compact and comprehensive.
¢ Complete guide to the 1,945 essential joyd kanji * 20,000 common compounds
¢ Three indices for finding kanji
Paperback, 928 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2891-1

THE KODANSHA KANJI LEARNER'S DICTIONARY

Mem RRF AFR
The perfect kanji tool for beginners to advanced learners.
¢ Revolutionary SKIP lookup method ¢ Five lookup methods and three indices
¢ 2,230 entries & 41,000 meanings for 31,000 words
Paperback, 1060 pages (2-color); ISBN 4-7700-2855-5

KODANSHA'S EFFECTIVE JAPANESE USAGE DICTIONARY

MBM BASAL
AIT eee
A concise, bilingual dictionary which clarifies the usage of frequently confused words and phrases.
¢ Explanations of 708 synonymous terms * Numerous example sentences
Paperback, 768 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2850-4

KODANSHA'S DICTIONARY OF BASIC JAPANESE IDIOMS

BAST T4144 LR
All idioms are given in Japanese script and romanized text with English translations. There are
approximately 880 entries, many of which have several senses.
Paperback, 672 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2797-4

A DICTIONARY OF JAPANESE PARTICLES

Tle elkeHR
Treats over 100 particles in alphabetical order, providing sample sentences for each meaning.
* Meets students’ needs from beginning to advanced levels
¢ Treats principal particle meanings as well as variants
Paperback, 368 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2352-9

A DICTIONARY OF BASIC JAPANESE SENTENCE PATTERNS

AASB
ASC RB R
Author of the best-selling All About Particles explains fifty of the most common, basic patterns
and their variations, along with numerous contextual examples. Both a reference and a textbook
for students at all levels.
* Formulas delineating basic pattern structure |* Commentary on individual usages
Paperback, 320 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2608-0

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 JAPANESE LANGUAGE GUIDES
Easy-to-use guides to essential language skills

13 SECRETS FOR SPEAKING FLUENT JAPANESE

BARBEND NST ICDO 1 BOWER Giles Murray
The most fun, rewarding, and universal techniques of successful learners of Japanese that anyone can put
immediately to use. A unique and exciting alternative, full of lively commentaries, comical illustrations,
and brain-teasing puzzles.
Paperback, 184 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2302-2

ALL ABOUT PARTICLES © sien spac Se%%OBAB Naoko Chino

The most common and less common particles brought together and broken down into some 200 usages,
with abundant sample sentences.
Paperback, 160 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2781-8

JAPANESE VERBS AT A GLANCE © sei Gas8m834 ~~Naoko Chino

Clear and straightforward explanations of Japanese verbs—their functions, forms, roles, and politeness levels.
Paperback, 180 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2765-6

BEYOND POLITE JAPANESE: A Dictionary of Japanese Slang and Colloquialisms

arse FICIAL C CldA = Akihiko Yonekawa
Expressions that all Japanese, but few foreigners, know and use every day. Sample sentences for every entry.
Paperback, 176 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2773-7

BUILDING WORD POWER IN JAPANESE: Using Kanji Prefixes and Suffixes

MRR WA CHASIst+rISVU— Timothy J. Vance
Expand vocabulary and improve reading comprehension by modifying your existing lexicon.
Paperback, 128 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2799-0

HOW TO SOUND INTELLIGENT IN JAPANESE: A Vocabulary Builder

mew ARSBOAMNAE Charles De Wolf
Lists, defines, and gives examples for the vocabulary necessary to engage in intelligent conversation in
fields such as politics, art, literature, business, and science.
Paperback, 160 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2859-8

MAKING SENSE OF JAPANESE: what the Textbooks Don’t Tell You

ek AASOWER Jay Rubin
“Brief, wittily written essays that gamely attempt to explain some of the more frustrating hurdles [of
Japanese]... They can be read and enjoyed by students at any level.” —Asahi Evening News
Paperback, 144 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2802-4

LOVE, HATE and Everything in Between: Expressing Emotions in Japanese

mem AARBOMARIRS Mamiko Murakami
Includes more than 400 phrases that are useful when talking about personal experience and nuances of
feeling. :
Paperback, 176 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2803-2

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 JAPANESE LANGUAGE GUIDES
Easy-to-use guides to essential language skills

THE HANDBOOK OF JAPANESE VERBS

BARBEs/\YRDy2 Taeko Kamiya
An indispensable reference and guide to Japanese verbs aimed at beginning and intermediate students.
Precisely the book that verb-challenged students have been looking for.
¢ Verbs are grouped, conjugated, and combined with auxiliaries ¢ Different forms are used in sentences
* Each form is followed by reinforcing examples and exercises
Paperback, 256 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2683-8

THE HANDBOOK OF JAPANESE ADJECTIVES AND ADVERBS

AxaAs : Bli/\ YEP» Taeko Kamiya
The ultimate reference manual for those seeking a deeper understanding of Japanese adjectives and adverbs
and how they are used in sentences. Ideal, too, for those simply wishing to expand their vocabulary or speak
livelier Japanese.
Paperback , 336 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2879-2

A HANDBOOK OF COMMON JAPANESE PHRASES

BASE RE OSCAR ©Sanseido
Japanese is rich in common phrases perfect for any number and variety of occasions. This handbook lists
some 600 of them and explains when, where, and how to use them, providing alternatives for slightly
varied circumstances and revealing their underlying psychology.
Paperback, 320 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2798-2

BASIC CONNECTIONS: Making Your Japanese Flow

weg AASBORR)L—)L Kakuko Shoji
Explains how words and phrases dovetail, how clauses pair up with other clauses, how sentences come together
to create harmonious paragraphs. The goal is to enable the student to speak both coherently and smoothly.
Paperback, 160 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2860-1

JAPANESE CORE WORDS AND PHRASES: Things You Can’t Find in a Dictionary
MAR HB CAM SSUBARE Kakuko Shoji
Some Japanese words and phrases, even though they lie at the core of the language, forever elude the
student's grasp. This book brings these recalcitrants to bay.
Paperback, 144 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2774-5

READ REAL JAPANESE: All You Need to Enjoy Eight Contemporary Writers
mem AAS CRMHS Janet Ashby
Original Japanese essays by Yoko Mori, Ryuichi Sakamoto, Machi Tawara, Shoichi Nejime, Momoko
Sakura, Seiko Ito, Banana Yoshimoto, and Haruki Murakami. With vocabulary lists giving the English for
Japanese words and phrases and also notes on grammar, nuance, and idiomatic usage.
Paperback, 168 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2936-5

BREAKING INTO JAPANESE LITERATURE: Seven Modern Classics in Parallel Text

BARE ROKDDCOOWMR Giles Murray
Read classics of modern Japanese fiction in the original with the aid of a built-in, customized dictionary,
free MP3 sound files of professional Japanese narrators reading the stories, and literal English
translations. Features Ryunosuke Akutagawa’s “Rashomon” and other stories.
Paperback, 240 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2899-7

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 The best-selling language course is now even better!
JAPANESE FOR BUSY PEOPLE ievised Edition
MEK JSI-7—-YavOrRoORAR L3%
Association
for Japanese-Language Teaching (AJALT)

The leading textbook for conversational Japanese has been improved to make it easier than
ever to teach and learn Japanese.
¢ Transition to advancing levels is more gradual.
¢ Kana version available for those who prefer Japanese script. Audio supplements compatible
with both versions.
¢ English-Japanese glossary added to each volume.
¢ Short kanji lessons introduced in Volume II.
¢ Clearer explanations of grammar. ¢ Shorter, easy-to-memorize dialogues.

Volume I
Teaches the basics for communication and provides a foundation for further study.
¢ Additional appendices for grammar usage.
Text paperback, 232 pages ISBN 4-7700-1882-7
Text / Kana Version paperback, 256 pages ISBN 4-7700-1987-4
Cassette Tapes three cassette tapes (total 120 min.) ISBN 4-7700-1883-5
Compact Discs two compact discs (total 120 min.) ISBN 4-7700-1909-2
The Workbook paperback, 192 pages ISBN 4-7700-1907-6
The Workbook Cassette Tapes _ two cassette tapes (total 100 min.) | ISBN 4-7700-1769-3
Japanese Teacher’s Manual paperback, 160 pages ISBN 4-7700-1906-8
English Teacher’s Manual paperback, 244 pages ISBN 4-7700-1888-6

Volume II
Provides the basic language skills necessary to function in a professional environment.
Text paperback, 288 pages ISBN 4-7700-1884-3
Text / Kana Version paperback, 296 pages ISBN 4-7700-2051-1
Compact Discs three compact discs (total 200 min.) ISBN 4-7700-2136-4
The Workbook paperback, 260 pages ISBN 4-7700-2037-6
The Workbook Cassette Tapes __ three cassette tapes (total 130 min.) ISBN 4-7700-2111-9
Japanese Teacher's Manual | paperback, 168 pages ISBN 4-7700-2036-8

Volume III
Expands vocabulary and structure to bring the student to the intermediate level.
Text paperback, 256 pages ISBN 4-7700-1886-X
Text / Kana Version paperback, 296 pages ISBN 4-7700-2052-X
Compact Discs three compact discs (total 200 min.) ISBN 4-7700-2137-2
The Workbook paperback, 288 pages ISBN 4-7700-2331-6
The Workbook Cassette Tapes _ two cassette tapes (total 100 min.) | ISBN 4-7700-2358-8
Japanese Teacher’s Manual paperback, 200 pages ISBN 4-7700-2306-5

Kana Workbook
Straightforward text for quick mastery of hiragana and katakana utilizing parallel learning
of reading, writing, listening, and pronunciation.
* Grids for writing practice. * Reading and writing exercises.
¢ Optional audio tape aids in pronunciation.
Text paperback, 80 pages ISBN 4-7700-2096-1
Cassette Tape one cassette tape (40 min.) ISBN 4-7700-2097-X

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 JAPANESE SPIRITUALITY AND CULTURE
HAGAKURE The Book of the Samurai. 9Yamamoto Tsunetomo 38 WARS
Hagakure (“In the Shadow of Leaves”) is a manual for the samurai classes consisting of a
series of short anecdotes and reflections that give both insight and instruction in the phi-
losophy and code of behavior that foster the true spirit of Bushido—the Way of the War-
rior. As featured in the film Ghost Dog.
Hardcover, 192 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2916-0 Paperback, 184 pages; ISBN 4-7700-1106-7

THE BOOK OF FIVE RINGS Miyamoto Musashi DWH Bate Ss

Setting down his thoughts on swordplay, on winning, and on spirituality, legendary swords-
man Miyamoto Musashi intended this modest work as a guide for his immediate disciples
and future generations of samurai. He had little idea he was penning a masterpiece that
would be eagerly devoured by people in all walks of life centuries after his death.
Hardcover, 160 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2801-6

MUSASHI An Epic Novel of the SamuraiEra Eiji Yoshikawa SAKE AAS

This classic work tells of the legendary samurai who was the greatest swordsman of all time.
“ .. a stirring saga ... one that will prove popular not only for readers interested in Japan
but also for those who simply want a rousing read.” —The Washington Post
Hardcover, 984 pages; ISBN 4-7700-1957-2

BUSHIDO TheSoulofJapan InazoNitobe KS mEFwE S

Written specifically for a Western audience in 1900 by Japan’s under-secretary general to
the League of Nations, Bushido explains concepts such as honor and loyalty within tradi-
tional Japanese ethics. The book is a classic, and as such throws a great deal of light on
Japanese thinking and behavior, both past and present.
Hardcover , 160 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2731-1

THE UNFETTERED MIND Writings of the Zen Master to the Sword Master
Soho Takuan 7T8SRWR Raw S
The philosophy and competitive strategy presented by the spiritual mentor to Musashi is
as useful to today’s corporate warriors as it was to 17th-century samurai.
Hardcover , 144 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2947-0 Paperback, 104 pages; ISBN 0-87011-851-X

THE BOOK OF TEA Kakuzo Okakura OK MaAR= #

The seminal text on the meaning and practice of tea. Written 80 years ago, the book is less
about tea than it is about the philosophical and aesthetic traditions basic to Japanese culture.
Paperback, 168 pages; ISBN 4-7700-1542-9

THE ANATOMY OF DEPENDENCE = Takeo Doi,M.D. HAH +e s

The classic analysis of amae, the indulging, passive love which supports an individual within a
group, and a key concept in Japanese psychology.
“Profound insights not only into the character of Japan but into the nuances of dependency
relationships.” —Ezra Vogel Paperback, 192 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2800-8

THE ANATOMY OF SELF The Individual Versus Society Takeo Doi, M.D.
RCM tee =
A fascinating exploration of the role of the individual in Japan, and Japanese concepts of
self-awareness, communication, and relationships. Paperback, 176 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2779-6

WORDS INCONTEXT Takao Suzuki =TEIKEMIL BAEK S

One of Japan’s foremost linguists offers a provocative analysis of the complex relationship
between language and culture, psychology and lifestyle.
Paperback, 192 pages; ISBN 4-7700-2780-X

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 JAPANESE LITERATURE
Ariyoshi, Sawako THE DOCTOR'S WIFE
THE RIVER KI
Enchi, Fumiko THE WAITING YEARS
Ibuse, Masuji BLACK RAIN
Kawabata, Yasunari HOUSE OF THE SLEEPING BEAUTIES and Other Stories
THE LAKE
Kita, Morio THE HOUSE OF NIRE
Matsumoto, Seicho POINTS AND LINES
THE VOICE and Other Stories
Mishima, Yukio ACTS OF WORSHIP Seven Stories
SUN AND STEEL
Murakami, Ryu ALMOST TRANSPARENT BLUE
COIN LOCKER BABIES
Natsume, Soseki BOTCHAN
Tanizaki, Jun‘ichiro A CAT, A MAN, AND TWO WOMEN
THE GOURMET CLUB A Sextet
Yoshikawa, Eiji MUSASHI An Epic Novel of the Samurai Era
TAIKO An Epic Novel of War and Glory in Feudal Japan

ANTHOLOGIES
MONKEY BRAIN SUSHI New Tastes in Japanese Fiction
THE MOTHER OF DREAMS ano otter stories Portrayals of Women in Modern Japanese Fiction

HAIKU
A HAIKU JOURNEY Basho’s The Narrow Road to a Far Province
MATSUO BASHO
THE HAIKU HANDBOOK How to Write, Share, and Teach Haiku
THE HAIKU SEASONS Poetry of the Natural World

www.thejapanpage.com
- — —! oe iD :
i = 7 y
F oy : fe = . ae > Cigeenns
THE AUTHOR: Sawako Ariyoshi was born in 193] in Wakayama
City. As a student she developed a deep interest in the the-
ater, both modern drama and traditional Kabuki, and her
own plays are widely performed in Japan. Many of her
novels have also been adapted for the stage, the cinema,
and television.

Ariyoshi first rose to prominence in the 1950s as a writer

of short stories, but has since built an impressive reputation
as a novelist dealing with crucial social issues. Among her
themes have been the problems faced by women in the tradi-
tional Japanese household (Hanaoka seishit no tsuma, 1967,
translated as The Doctor's Wife), racial segregation in the United
States (Hishoku, 1964), and environmental pollution (Fukugo
osen, 1975). Her Kokotsu no hito (The Twilight Years) was published
in 1972 and sold over a million copies in less than a year.

Translations of her books have appeared throughout

the world and include a French translation of The Doctor's Wife,
which was a bestseller in France in 1981; The River Ki; The
Twilight Years; and Her Highness Princess Kazu, awarded the pres-
tigious Mainichi Cultural Prize in 1979.

Ariyoshi died in 1984,

JACKET ILLUSTRATION: textile design by Joan Morris

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(Fishy) BASTHR tc 7) || Printed in Japan

“A beautiful book ... by a perceptive observer.”
—Donald Richie, Japan Times

“A story rich in detail, and characters affectionately

depicted with humor and pathos.” — Best Sellers

“A vivid portrait of a family in a changing society.”

—Observer

“A powerful novel written with convincing realism.”

—Japan Quarterly

US s1b-00
| ii

9 "7847 70'030009
ISBN 4-??00-3000-e

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