By the time he had finished bathing, the electric lights had come on. Mr. Shiga was seated upright on his bedding and was speaking in a low voice with his daughter, Tokiko’s sister, who was holding a letter in her hand. Jūkichi sat down on his bedding and glanced at the envelope that had fallen on Mr. Shiga’s pillow. The return address had the name of Tokiko’s aunt in Aoyama. Something must be up, he thought, observing the serious expressions of father and daughter.
“How was the water?” Mr. Shiga asked and quickly changed into a yukata and left for his bath.
“Jūkichi, do you dislike my sister?” she asked in a gentle voice.
The sound of his own name seemed strange to him, as if he had not heard it for a long time. But her voice gave him a pleasurable feeling. He smiled and remained silent.
“You should show more affection for her,” the sister persisted.
“You’re right, I will,” he replied. He guessed that the aunt had revealed something in the letter.
“They tell me you enjoy playing with the girls. You shouldn’t be such a flirt.”
“I don’t have much of a chance to flirt these days. But what about you? This trade must be fairly interesting,” he replied, trying to shift the conversation away from himself.
“It’s not interesting at all. This business doesn’t suit my personality.” She obviously did not want to discuss a business she disliked. “I’d be much happier living in Tokyo.”
“I like it better here. There’s room to breathe, and I enjoy taking it easy.”
“Then stay as long as you like. We have plenty of room, as you see. Tomorrow evening, I’ll use Tokiko as an excuse, and she and I will go the theater. My father-in-law’s strict. He won’t permit me to go by myself.”
“But I thought I’d leave tomorrow. Tokiko can stay on if she wants.”
“You can’t leave separately. You must return together.”
Her father’s return ended their conversation, and she left the room.
Seven or eight relatives were in attendance at the banquet. Ōhigashi did not attend, giving the excuse of poor eyesight. The Aoyama aunt had apparently instructed the geisha to perform celebratory dances usually associated with weddings. Jūkichi said little, merely responding to the relatives who came over to fill his cup with saké. As on the night of his wedding, Jūkichi was becoming depressed. Tokiko, sitting next to her mother, loomed weirdly in his field of vision.
He felt ill from too much drink and went downstairs to the room he had occupied formerly. He sprawled out on his bedding without removing his clothes. In his drunken state, he was angered by the sense that he was missing out on something. He wanted to spend the rest of the night alone in this room. Tokiko, breathing heavily, her eyes red, entered and sat beside him.
“They say you want to spend the night here. I don’t want to.”
“Then go home by yourself. I’m fine here. Can’t you just leave me alone? The thought of spending every night of the rest of my life in the same room with you is enough to make me want to end it all quickly,” Jūkichi said with a smile, but the tone of his voice was serious. Tokiko did not seem hurt, or even to notice, the insult.
“I want to die,” she exclaimed with her head bowed. “They told me it was all right to get drunk, since it was a special occasion. They kept making me drink. I’m in pain!” Tokiko said slapping her own cheeks.
The maid brought a bottle of water and set it within reach of Jūkichi’s pillow. Tokiko crawled over and poured herself a glass of water.
She staggered over to the veranda and slid open the door, breathing in the cool air. The electric light from the corridor illuminated the small garden outside. A stone lantern and a cluster of shrubs appeared dimly as if in a dream. But beyond the garden, the night was pitch black, a little frightening. They could see, in the corridor kitty-corner to the garden, Tokiko’s sister staring at something. Afraid that her sister would spot her in the room, Tokiko quickly closed the sliding door, but the sudden noise caused the sister to turn and glare in their direction. She seemed angry.
“I wonder what’s wrong with her,” Tokiko muttered and returned to Jūkichi’s side. “She criticizes whatever I do. ‘Don’t walk so fast,’ ‘You’re sitting wrong’: whenever she sees me, she gets angry. She didn’t used to be like that!” Tokiko opened her eyes in wonder at this change in her sister. “A little while ago, when I was about to go downstairs, she took me aside and whispered quickly, ‘You shouldn’t appear in front of groups of people dressed like that. What’s wrong with you? You’re beyond help.’ Then she stomped down the stairs. Why does she act like that?”
“I don’t know,” Jūkichi replied. His eyes glinted in merriment. “I think she’s more fortunate than you. She’s suffered in the past, but her current husband seems like a nice fellow, and this property and business is worth a great deal. Plus her father-in-law seems to be in poor health. Probably not long for this world!”
“I don’t think my sister’s happy.”
“You’ll probably start to envy her soon.”
“Why? I don’t envy her!” she replied brusquely.
The night deepened. In such a spacious inn, it was strange to not hear the notes of a geisha’s shamisen.
On the way back to Shiga’s house the next morning, Jūkichi decided he would return to Tokyo by train that afternoon. The members of the Shiga family attempted to dissuade him, but it was to no avail. Tokiko, who felt affection for her home region, had hoped to stay for several more days, but this desire would come to nothing.
“Can’t we stay for one more day? I’ve lent some things to friends and I’d like to get them back,” she finally blurted out in frustration. She wanted to meet her friends and talk about her new life in Tokyo.
“Then why don’t you stay on here by yourself for a few more days?” Jūkichi suggested. In truth, he would have preferred that she stay. But her father objected.
“Toki! You mustn’t be so selfish. Your husband has commitments,” he scolded. “Jūkichi, if she continues to act selfishly, you have my permission to beat her,” he continued, laughing.
Tokiko’s mother took her aside and warned her that she must return with her husband. Foods—sushi, the stuffed steamed sea bream Jūkichi liked so much, and sweets—were placed in lunch boxes for the journey home. Tokiko’s sister, bringing some of the food, came to see them off.
“Come see us in Tokyo,” Jūkichi offered politely.
“Tokyo! I was barely allowed to come here!” she complained. “And you’ve robbed me of the chance to go to the theater.”
The time for departure approached. Tokiko’s mother, loath to part from her two daughters for even a moment, sat close to them. The people in the room, each occupied by their own thoughts, kept their eyes on the large clock on a set of chests. Two silver pocket watches were on the table, one attached to Tokiko’s long gold chain that glittered in the light.
“I see you don’t have a watch, Jūkichi,” Mr. Shiga observed. “You don’t find it inconvenient?”
“Not particularly,” Jūkichi replied.
“My father’s collected any number of them. He lends people money and takes their watches as collateral, and they never reclaim them. Whenever he thinks we’re late getting him his meals, he walks around winding all the watches and clocks in the house. Then if we ignore him, and his dinner still isn’t on the table, he rushes outside in a huff! When you get older, all you have to look forward to is meals, I guess,” Tokiko’s sister commented.
“Are you still practicing your ballad singing?” Mr. Shiga asked.
“All I do nowadays is eat,” she replied.
Jūkichi remembered the sophisticated gentleman with the shaved head he had seen the previous evening at the Takegawa’s restaurant.
“Shall we get started?” said Mr. Shiga and left the room. Tokiko’s heart began pounding, and she went upstairs for the sole purpose of having one last look around her room. When she came back downstairs, there were tears in her mother�
��s eyes.
Tokiko’s sister saw them off to the station. “Just a token of my affection,” she said as she slipped a paper-wrapped parcel to Tokiko. “Take care of yourself, and send me a letter now and again.” She spoke with real feeling.
“I will,” Tokiko replied, her head down. She was dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. “Please write to me, too.”
Jūkichi felt that if people had not been present, the two sisters would have held hands and begun to weep. Tokiko’s sister stood forlornly watching until the train carrying the newly wed couple was out of sight.
IX
Jūkichi had received Tokiko’s registry while in Kōfu, but he hesitated to send it to his own hometown and have it placed in his family registry, thus officially recognizing Tokiko as his wife. The aunt from Aoyama, who had sent a letter from the countryside inquiring about the matter, paid a visit to Jūkichi’s house, ostensibly because she was in the neighborhood, and after some small talk, asked, nonchalantly, what had become of Tokiko’s registry.
“I’ll send it off any day now,” he replied. After the aunt departed, Jūkichi removed the document from its envelope and read it. Ōhigashi, the old man who thought life was pain, had acted as the witness to the transfer of the registry, and he had marked his presence with his official stamp.
“Who’d act as a witness for me?” he wondered and tried to think of someone. He called Tokiko to come to look at the document. “I hope you understand. If I register this document, we’ll be married, and you’ll lose your freedom,” Jūkichi declared.
“Freedom? What freedom?” Tokiko asked as she studied what was written.
“You’ll be bound to me by the nation’s laws until you die. Make certain you don’t regret your decision.”
“But I have no choice.”
Placing the document into an envelope, she left the room to mail it, but she was suddenly overcome by doubt. The document itself made her feel secure, but she also experienced a sense of fear and loneliness she had never felt before. In Kōfu, when she had received the telegram from her aunt announcing, “Marriage arrangements complete,” she had also felt fear and loneliness, but these emotions had been joined with feelings of hope and anticipation. Now there was neither hope nor anticipation. She returned to her sewing box and picked up a piece of cloth she had been working on. As if in a daze, she stared blankly out at the garden.
A large camellia blossom had fallen on the dry ground. It was the most variegated and beautiful of the blossoms. All the flowers had fallen from the Japanese rose and bamboo grass, and slender stems were bending under the weight of verdant leaves. Bright sunlight glittered off the verdant foliage. A white butterfly fluttered amid the leaves and disappeared over the rustic fence.
Jūkichi also was gazing at the garden. It already was the middle of May. He could foresee that the rainy season, the heat of summer, fall, and winter would soon pass and that this year, too, would be gone before he knew it. He knew that this year as well would be fruitless. He suddenly felt himself growing old.
Dressed in his everyday clothes, Jūkichi left the house in search of some lively diversion.
After her husband left, Tokiko, on impulse, went out as well. Recently, other than shopping or visits to the public bath, Tokiko had not been out of the house.
She turned the corner at the mailbox where she had deposited so many letters to Kōfu. Eyes downcast, taking side streets to avoid people, Tokiko arrived at a broad avenue. She wanted to follow the street wherever it took her, but she also was concerned about being alone so far from home. Automobiles passed and cavalry officers went by on their horses. Dust from the road was blown up into her face.
Tokiko caught sight of what seemed to be the entrance to a small temple to her right. She had recently heard at the hairdresser’s that there was a temple in the neighborhood that was popular with believers. Perhaps this was the temple. She was moved by an impulse to visit the place. Walking on the stepping-stones, she headed for the glimmering candles set before the Buddha’s altar. Five or six women were fingering their rosaries and making the rounds from the eaves under the tin roof of the temple to the stone of a hundred prayers—a hundred journeys from stone to altar being a form of prayer entreating the Amida Buddha for his blessings. One of the worshipers was a woman in her late teens or early twenties. She was barefoot and dressed in a cheap, dirty, splash-patterned kimono tied with a faded muslin sash. Perhaps it was Tokiko’s imagination, but she thought she could read a great weariness and sadness in the expression of the young woman’s plump, dark-complexioned face.
Tokiko stood and watched the flurry of moving feet as the women hurried back and forth between the stone and the altar, and she was overcome by dark despair. The flickering light from the depths of the Buddhist altar took on a sacredness she had not felt before. Tokiko approached the altar, threw coins in the offering box, and prayed. She prayed for her husband’s good health and that he would come to love her. She felt the impulse to join the other women in their perambulations.
Tokiko waited at home until midnight, but Jūkichi still did not return. She sat next to a standing lamp, listening to the regular breathing of the old woman, and waited. When it came to her diary, she was written out. Leafing through the previous entries, she read the same sort of thing time and again. The sincerity of the repeated phrases moved her to tears.
“I’m not going to keep this diary anymore,” she declared, and roughly slapped it down on a corner of the desk.
X
“How’s she doing?” Mrs. Yazawa inquired, as she always did.
“Little Toki?” Jūkichi answered, imitating Tokiko’s sister’s provincial dialect. “She seems to be getting on well with the maid. They sit in the parlor and talk for hours.”
“That’s nice. She’s getting used to her new home, isn’t she?”
“I wonder,” he replied. “Still, she’s changed. She’s grown more adult, and her provincial accent is disappearing. She’s better spoken.”
“I told you she’d improve. Before you left for Kōfu, we were quite worried about you two. You always seemed so dissatisfied.”
“It’s not as though I’m satisfied now,” he responded. True, Tokiko was growing out of her childlike sense of privilege and her provincial speech and mannerisms. She did not irritate him as she once did, but neither would she provide him with the pleasurable excitement he desired. “‘There is a natural separation to be observed between men and women, husband and wife.’ Mencius’s wise teaching is certainly relevant in the case of my marriage,” Jūkichi said with a rueful chuckle.
Mrs. Yazawa took the maid aside and asked discreetly whether the couple slept in separate rooms.
“No. But I do feel he treats her like someone’s daughter who’s been entrusted to his care.”
“When they have a child, that will change.”
Mrs. Yazawa no longer asked after Tokiko so persistently. Mr. Yazawa no longer cautioned Jūkichi and instead spoke of the circumstances leading up to Jūkichi’s marriage as if these were old stories of no consequence now.
“When it turned out that Otoku was already engaged, we looked for a replacement and found a likely candidate in the daughter of the president of a hemp-dressing company. But her father had you investigated and when he learned of your conduct with women, he immediately refused the match. That’s when we decided you’d have to be satisfied with Tokiko, and we urged you to accept the match.”
Jūkichi had not heard the story about this prospective match before. Mr. Yazawa told him that the young woman was pretty but that her nose was too large.
“I’ve never behaved in a manner to invite criticism from others. I haven’t had any opportunities to be so dissolute. I’ve never been obsessed with women. First, because I’ve never found them that interesting. But since I’ve been married, I’ve begun to give in to a certain amount of dissolute behavior. Whether this really amounts to licentiousness, I don’t know, but in my heart I feel like I’m becoming a degenerate
!” Jūkichi declared, and in the color of his voice something of his debauched mood was apparent.
“Men are such self-centered creatures,” Mrs. Yazawa exclaimed. She was having difficulty in understanding Jūkichi’s reasoning and intentions.
“Still, Tokiko probably won’t leave me now,” he continued. “Strange, isn’t it? I guess she likes the smell of men, even one like me who smells of tobacco smoke.”
The Yazawas now felt free to discuss the marriage with a frankness they had not shown since taking on the role of intermediaries. They did not hesitate to strip Tokiko naked and dissect her in their discussion of her faults.
“I thought being an intermediary was a thankless job. But you make it seem interesting. You learn about everyone’s weaknesses!” Jūkichi commented.
Tokiko stopped reading Virtues of Chaste Young Ladies and instead began reading in secret a copy of Hygiene for Women Only that she had purposely gone out to buy in a shop in the Kagurazaka district. She learned a great many things of which she had never had an inkling before.
“You’ve been looking pale lately,” Jūkichi observed one day to Tokiko.
“Yes. I’m losing weight, too,” she replied, stretching out her arm and examining it. Her arm was not noticeably thinner than before, but she seemed to need to believe it was. “The next-door maid is getting plumper day by day. I’m envious!”
“That’s why you should get more exercise and take better care of yourself. You’re just at the beginning of your life. You have things to look forward to. It would be a shame if you neglected your health.”
“Do you feel sorry for me?” Tokiko seemed starved for such sympathetic words.
“Sure, I feel sorry for you. But now I can’t send you home as a virgin. You’re stuck with me.”
“I do have a choice. I’m your wife,” Tokiko stated emphatically.
Jūkichi studied her face. It was not a lovely face. It struck him as strange that this face should belong to a person he should regard as “my wife.” He made no reply to Tokiko’s statement.
The Columbia Anthology of Modern Japanese Literature: From Restoration to Occupation, 1868-1945: vol. 1 (Modern Asian Literature Series) Page 32
