The Makioka Sisters

by Junichiro Tanizaki

  “I must come here oftener. Look at all the food.” The sake was having its effect on Teinosuke, whose cheeks were a pleasant pink. “It’s getting harder and harder to find anything decent to eat or drink. Is the food always so good?”

  “I doubt it,” said Hashidera. “Mrs. Niu probably threatened them with violence.”

  “That’s not quite true. But my husband is a steady customer, and they generally let us have our way. And I thought the name of the place might bring us luck.”

  “Happy Omen,” the restaurant was called. Mrs. Niu pronounced it “Kitchō.”

  “Isn’t it ‘Kikkyō,’ Mrs. Niu?” asked Teinosuke. “It’s not pronounced quite as it’s written. Probably easterners like Mr. Hashi-dera here have never heard the word, but here in Osaka we have what we call a kikkyō. Do you know what it is, Mrs. Itani?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t.”

  “Kikkyō?” Hashidera too looked puzzled. “What is it?”

  “I know,” said Mrs. Niu. “Kikkyō—one of those things. You know, the things you buy at the Ebisu Fair in Nishinomiya or Imamiya. A little piece of bamboo with coins and good-luck pieces dangling from it.”

  “That’s right.”

  “At the Ebisu Fair you can buy …” Mrs. Niu took up the jingle for the Ebisu Fair.

  “Balloons and saucers and

  pocketbooks too.

  Pennies and pocketbooks and high hats too …

  All of them dangling from a sprig of bamboo. And kitchō we ignorant Osakans call kikkyō. Right, Mr. Makioka?”

  “Quite right. How do you happen to know?”

  “I may not look it, but I’m an Osakan too.”

  “Really?”

  “And I know at least that much. But do people still pronounce it the old way? Here in the restaurant they seem to say kitchō.”

  “Let me ask you another. In that jingle you just gave us, Mrs. Niu, what is a hazebukuro?”

  But Mrs. Niu had pronounced it kazebukuro, and thought it meant “balloon.”

  “No, hazebukuro is right.”

  “Is there such a word?”

  “A bag to roast haze in,” ventured Hashidera. “Haze is a sort of puffed rice. In Tokyo children eat it on the day of the Doll Festival.”

  “Mr. Hashidera knows more than any of us.”

  For a time the conversation was of customs and dialects in the east and the west, and Mrs. Niu, who had been bora in Osaka and reared in Tokyo and who later had moved back to Osaka, was the best informed of all. She called herself an amphibian, and she quite justified the claim as she switched from Tokyo speech for Itani to the Osaka dialect for Teinosuke. Itani, who had spent a year or so in America learning her trade, talked of how it was “over there,” and Hashidera told of his visit to the Bayer plant in Germany: the place was enormous, he said, and had among other things a movie theater at least the size of the Osaka Shōchiku. Presently Itani set about bringing the conversation back to its original purpose. She asked Hashidera about his daughter and his family in Shizuoka, and contrived to make him exchange remarks with Yukiko. The subject of his remarrying came up again.

  “And what does your daughter think?”

  “I haven’t asked her. The important thing is that I haven’t made up my own mind yet.”

  “And so I keep telling you to make up your mind. You’ll have to marry again some time.”

  “I suppose you’re right. But then you know how it is. I don’t feel in the mood to start having a new family in such a hurry.”

  “And why might that be?”

  “No special reason. I just can’t quite take the step, that’s all. But with someone like you to prod me on, I suppose I’ll find myself married again in no time.”

  “You leave everything to us, then?”

  “I’m afraid it’s not so simple.”

  “Aren’t you slippery. I’m sure it would please your wife, if she knew, to see you married again.”

  “I’m not really brooding as much as you seem to think I am.”

  “Mrs. Niu,” put in Itani. “This gentleman obviously has to have someone put the plate in front of him and take up the spoon for him. We won’t argue with him. We’ll go ahead and arrange everything our own way.”

  “And when the time comes we’ll not take any excuses.”

  Teinosuke and Yukiko could only watch smilingly as the lady gangsters attacked Hashidera. The dinner was the informal one they had been promised, and there was little to suggest a miai. But to drag out a man who was not sure he wanted to marry, and to play out the little drama with which Teinosuke and Yukiko were being entertained—this was an art that only a lady gangster could have mastered. Teinosuke could not help thinking that they were in an extremely peculiar position themselves, and what astonished him most was that Yukiko had somewhere learned to smile and enjoy herself. The old Yukiko would scarcely have been able to endure it—she would have been a flaming red and on the verge of tears, and she might even have stood up and left the room. Women like Yukiko seemed to keep their freshness and innocence through the years. Had the accumulated miai brought a certain callousness, however, a certain brashness even? No, it was only natural that a lady of thirty-three should have become calmer and more poised. Aware only of her continued youthfulness and of the youthful clothes she wore, Teinosuke had failed to notice the change.

  That aside, what did Hashidera have in mind? Even if he felt only that he had nothing to lose by taking a look at Mrs. Niu’s young lady, one might with some justice assume that he was more “in the mood” to remarry than he admitted. He need not have come at all if he was so reluctant. There was something a little exaggerated about his confusion, and no doubt he felt that if Yukiko was a girl to suit him, he might consider marrying her. In any case, it hardly seemed likely that he had come just to tease them. But he was clever enough to justify Mrs. Niu’s use of the adjective “slippery,” and his manner gave not a hint of the impression Yukiko had made on him. While the other four talked quite easily, Yukiko, just a little abashed, stayed outside the conversation. As always, she made no attempt to exploit openings the others gave her. Hashidera for his part was far too busy with the gangsters to offer her more than two or three polite remarks through the meal. The Makiokas took their leave quite perfunctorily, without even knowing whether or not they would see him again, but Itani, who was with them on the train, was confident. She would bring her mouth to Teinosuke’s ear and whisper over and over again that everything must be left to Mrs. Niu and herself, that they would see the affair through successfully, that they would take no excuses from a man who had come so far, that he was most pleased with Miss Yukiko. Itani had seen it all.

  15

  THAT NIGHT Teinosuke reported his impressions to Sachiko: to judge from appearances, the man must be given a perfect mark, and seemed quite ideal for Yukiko, but they could only wait, since he was still debating whether or not he wanted to remarry, and since the prospects were in no sense as bright as Mrs. Niu and Itani seemed to think. Teinosuke and his wife had become very timid about miai since the year before—if they put too much faith in the ladies they might be made fools of again. But the next morning Itani came calling. She had already had a telephone call from Mrs. Niu, and she wondered what Miss Yukiko thought of the man. Following Teinosuke’s advice, Sachiko said only that the man had made a very good impression indeed, but that he did not yet seem to have made up his mind, and … No need to worry about that, said Itani. There was one difficulty, though: Mrs. Niu had that morning had a call from Hashidera, who said that Miss Yukiko struck him as a little moody. He preferred bright, lively, sparkling girls. But Itani had explained everything. Miss Yukiko impressed people as a little moody at first, but she was in fact not moody at all. Mrs. Niu must be sure to tell Hashidera so. Miss Yukiko might be a little reserved, but she was certainly not moody. She was so gentle and quiet that she sometimes made the wrong impression on strangers. When one got to know her, however, one found her surprisingly —perhaps, said Itani, that
was not a tactful adverb to have chosen —anyway, surprisingly bright and modem and sophisticated. She was exactly the sort of girl Hashidera wanted. If he did not believe it he had only to see her more often. In music she liked the piano, in food she preferred the foreign, and she loved foreign movies. She knew English and French. What more could Itani say to demonstrate that Miss Yukiko was a bright and cheerful girl? It was true that she wore Japanese clothes, but did not the fact that gay clothes so became her show that there was something gay in her nature? If he would only take the trouble to know her, he could see for himself. Girls from good families simply did not talk when they met strange men, that was all. Itani had rambled on and on, she said, and put coin after coin in the telephone. But if the truth must be told, Miss Yukiko was too quiet, and she was likely to be misunderstood. She should muster up her courage and talk a little more. Itani would arrange to bring the man around soon. She wanted Miss Yukiko to leave a bright, happy impression this time.

  Sachiko had been secretly apprehensive about that spot over the eye, though it had not been particularly noticeable the day before. But was there really much hope? She wrote off a good half of Itani’s story as idle chatter. The next day at about three, she had a telephone call: Itani was in Osaka, and in an hour she and Mrs. Niu would bring Mr. Hashidera to call on Sachiko. Were they coining here? asked Sachiko in some confusion. They were indeed, said Itani. Mr. Hashidera had very little time and could stay no more than twenty minutes or a half hour, and there was no other convenient place to meet. And then Mr. Hashidera wanted to see the family and the house. That would be very pleasant, of course, but might they not … ? Itani cut her short. They could only stay twenty minutes or a half hour, and they would not expect to be entertained. With Mr. Hashidera beginning to show signs of interest, it would put him out of sorts if the plans had to be changed.

  Sachiko had to consider Yukiko’s feelings. What should they do? They could send Etsuko off to Kobe with O-haru, of course. But Yukiko proved surprisingly tractable. Etsuko and O-haru had already guessed everything, she was sure. Very well, then, they would be waiting, Sachiko said to Itani. She immediately telephoned Osaka to ask if Teinosuke could be home in time.

  Back before the guests arrived, Teinosuke said that he too had had a call from Itani. Mr. Hashidera was starved for a taste of home, Itani had said, and would like to meet Sachiko and the rest of them at the Ashiya house that afternoon. But what surprised and pleased Teinosuke most was the change in Yukiko. Was it not remarkable that she had agreed to see the man?.

  Soon the three guests were in the parlor. Itani called Sachiko out into the hall. Was Koi-san at home? Startled, Sachiko answered that Koi-san was unfortunately away at the moment. Then they would like to see at least Etsuko, said Itani. Mr. Hashidera had wanted to bring his own little girl, but the plans had been too hurried. Next time he would surely do so. The girl and Etsuko were quite ideal for each other. They would soon be friends, and Mr. Hashidera would and that he was interested. Irani exuded confidence.

  Since Yukiko had permitted it, Teinosuke agreed that they might call in Etsuko and have her impressions too, and presently the four of them, Teinosuke, Sachiko, Etsuko, and Yukiko, were facing the guests. Again Hashidera’s manner suggested that he had been dragged out against his will. He had not approved of the visit—he had thought it most rude to sweep down thus uninvited, and his arguments had been quite overruled by the lady gangsters. And, he added (one hardly knew how to take the remark), a plain office worker like himself did not deserve such a bride.

  Yukiko was no longer as difficult as she had once been, but she was not likely to lose her reserve overnight. It was as though she had paid no attention to Itani’s orders. She made no effort to be friendly, and as always she barely answered questions that were put to her. Teinosuke thought to bring out an album of photographs from the Kyoto cherry-viewing the year before. Sachiko had to do most of the explaining, with Yukiko or Etsuko shyly adding a detail now and then. If only Taeko were here with her quips and burlesques, thought Sachiko. She could not help suspecting that the other three shared her wish. Twenty minutes went by, and a half hour, and after an hour Hashidera looked at his wrist watch and said he must go, and Mrs. Niu and Itani too stood up. Might the two ladies not be able to visit a little longer? asked Sachiko. Itani was always busy, but Mrs. Niu—it had been so long since she last called, and though they really could offer very little … Perhaps she would stay, then, said Mrs. Niu. Would they feed her? If she did not mind potluck, said Sachiko. Splendid, said Mrs. Niu, and stayed for dinner.

  Yukiko and Etsuko left the three to talk by themselves. Sachiko too was pleased with Hashidera. She and her husband, quite without prearrangement, found themselves praising him and assuring Mrs. Niu that, though they had not yet heard Yukiko’s views, they did not expect her to have reservations—somehow they felt sure that she would not object to such a man. As they learned the results of Mrs. Niu’s investigations, they felt more and more that this was a proposal they would like to see through, but what still disturbed them was the fact that Hashidera himself seemed so unenthusiastic. It was Mrs. Niu’s feeling, however, that he was striking a pose as a sort of defense against the noisy women around him, and that deep in his heart he was not a little interested. But to be honest, he had been deeply in love with his first wife, and he worried a great deal about the daughter she had left behind. Probably, then, he wanted to be pushed forward until there was no retreating. He wanted someone to prod him into a step he could not quite take by himself. If he really was so unenthusiastic, he hardly needed to let them bring him out twice. For all of his protests that it did not make sense to run off to the house of a young lady he had met but once, he had in the end allowed himself to be brought, and was that not evidence that he was interested in Yukiko? Sachiko and Teinosuke had to admit that there was much to the argument. Since he was so worried about the little girl, continued Mrs. Niu, no objection could prevail against a lady of whom the girl approved. She would arrange next time for the girl to meet Yukiko, and she would like if possible for young Etsuko to be present—the two children would become great friends. With that Mrs. Niu took her leave. Sachiko told Teinosuke afterwards that of the many prospective husbands they had inspected for Yukiko, this man seemed the best. All of their conditions were satisfied, and his family, his position, his way of living were neither ridiculously high nor ridiculously low by Makioka standards. Such a candidate was not likely to come again. And if, as Mrs. Niu suggested, he was deliberately holding back and hoping that they would go out after him, they might try being more aggressive. She seemed to be asking for brilliant suggestions from Teinosuke, but Teinosuke, though he agreed with her, could only wonder what was to be done. The real difficulty was that Yukiko was so passive by nature. They could expect no help from her. She could have put on an abler performance this afternoon, for instance. But they would think of something.

  In Osaka the next day, Teinosuke looked for an excuse to stop by and become better acquainted with Hashidera, whose office was not far from his. In the course of the conversation the day before, he remembered, Sachiko had said that because of the war she was running short on German vitamins and sulfamine, of which she always liked to have a supply on hand, and Hashidera had urged her to use the sulfamine made by his company. Unlike most Japanese medicines, it produced absolutely no secondary reactions, he said, and he felt sure that it was quite as effective as the German product. Since his company made Vitamin B, she might give that a try too. He would send a package around immediately. Teinosuke protested that he was in Osaka every day himself and could just as well pick it up. Please, any time—if Teinosuke would but telephone, Hashidera could always arrange to be in. Though Teinosuke had not been serious, it now occurred to him that without seeming forward he could go around and say that his wife would be most grateful for a little of the medicine. Leaving his office early, he walked down Sakai Boulevard. He picked out the building as he turned west off the boulevard, the only reinf
orced-concrete building in a row of old earth-walled shops. Hashidera promptly ordered a boy to go off and wrap up so many packages of this medicine and so many packages of that. His office was not really suitable for receiving guests, he said, and if Teinosuke would wait a few minutes possibly they could go out together. He seemed to be leaving orders with two or three employees, and he came out coatless and hatless. Waiting in front for perhaps five minutes, Teinosuke saw from Hashidera’s way with the employees that, in theory only one among several executives, he in fact ran the company. He suggested that they call on him if anything else were needed, and handed Teinosuke the package. Embarrassed at not being allowed to pay, Teinosuke withdrew apologetically, but at Hashidera’s suggestion that they talk for a little while, he found himself following along, afraid he might miss an opportunity to hear something important. They would have a cup of coffee together, he assumed. Instead they turned into an alley and climbed to the second floor of a little restaurant one would have taken for a private house. Teinosuke thought he knew Osake well, but he had not known of this alley and this restaurant. The second floor, only one small room looking out over clusters of roofs and here and there a tall building, gave one the sense of being in the very heart of the old Semba district. Probably it was a favored spot for merchants, and especially the owners and managers of the pharmacies in which the district abounded, to talk business over a light lunch. A poor place to be taking a guest, said Hashidera, but unfortunately he had a little work to do before he went home, and he could not stray far from the office. Having in effect invited himself to dinner, Teinosuke was more and more embarrassed.