三十三

It was on a cold, rainy day in November. I had gotten my overcoat wet and, as usual, cut through the Konnyaku Enma and climbed the narrow slope on my way home. K’s room was empty, but in his hibachi freshly added charcoal burned warmly. Wanting quickly to hold my cold hands over the red coals, I hurried to slide open the partition to my own room. There, in my hibachi, only cold white ash remained, and not even an ember survived. I was suddenly displeased.

Then, hearing my footsteps, the mistress came out. She stood silently in the middle of the room, looking at me with pity, helped me out of my overcoat, and put a Japanese robe on me. Hearing me say I was cold, she at once brought K’s hibachi from the next room. When I asked if K had already come home, the mistress replied that he had returned and then gone out again. That day, as usual, K was scheduled to come home later than me, so I wondered what had happened. The mistress said he had probably had some errand to run.

I sat there for a while and read. As the house fell silent and not a voice could be heard, the early winter cold and loneliness seemed to sink into my body. I immediately closed my book and stood up. I suddenly felt like going somewhere lively. The rain had finally stopped, but the sky still looked heavy, cold as lead, so, cautiously, I shouldered a wagasa and descended the slope eastward along the earthen wall behind the Arsenal. In those days the roads had not yet been realigned, so the slope was much steeper than now. The road was narrow and not straight at all. Moreover, descending into that valley, the south was blocked by tall buildings and the drainage was poor, so the street was a sea of mud. Especially miserable was the stretch between crossing the narrow stone bridge and reaching the Yanagimachi road. Whether in geta or boots, one could not simply walk carelessly. Everyone had to pick their way reverently along a naturally formed narrow strip of parted mud in the middle of the road. It was only a foot or two wide, no different from stepping onto a belt laid across the road and crossing over it. All who passed formed a single file and crept through. Upon this narrow belt, I abruptly ran into K. So absorbed in my feet, I had not noticed him at all until we faced each other. Only when he suddenly blocked my path and I instinctively looked up did I recognize K standing there. I asked K where he had gone. K only said, “Just over there.” His answer was as curt as ever. K and I shifted bodies on the narrow belt. Then I saw a young woman standing right behind K. Near-sighted as I was, I had not made her out before; but after letting K pass, I saw her face and was no little surprised to find it was the mistress’s daughter. The young lady, her face faintly flushed, greeted me. The hairstyle of that time, unlike now, had no fringe, but was coiled round and round at the crown like a snake. I stared vaguely at her hair, then the next moment realized one of us must yield the way. I steeled myself and stepped one foot into the mire. Then, clearing a relatively passable spot, I let the young lady cross.

Once out on the Yanagimachi road, I no longer knew where to go. Everywhere felt uninteresting. Uncaring of the splashing mud, I tramped recklessly through the muddy sea. Then I went straight home.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”