by Osamu Dazai
Chapter One
* * *
The Pilgrimage
"Now, why are you going on this trip?"
"I'm having problems."
"As usual, I can't believe you're having problems, even a little."
"Masaoka Shiki, thirty-six; Ozaki Koyo, thirty-seven; Saito Ryoku, thirty-eight; Kunikida Doppo, thirty-eight; Nagatsuka Takashi, thirty-seven; Akutagawa Ryunosuke, thirty-six; Kamura Isota, thirty-seven."
"What's your point?"
"They died at those ages. They dropped dead one after another. I'm creeping toward that age. To a writer, this is the most important age."
"So what's bothering you?"
"What are you saying? Stop joking. You're supposed to have a little understanding. I will say no more. If I speak, I will be showing off. Anyway, I'm going on this trip."
Aging well may be to blame or my belief that explaining my feelings was smug, but I didn't want to say anything (also because it's mostly trite literary flashiness).
A while ago, a friendly editor at a publishing house asked me to write about Tsugaru. While I'm alive, I want to explore each corner of the region of my birth and, one spring, left Tokyo looking like a beggar.
This event occurred in the middle of May. Describing myself as a beggar may be subjective. However, I am being objective when I say I did not look very stylish. I don't own one business suit. I only wear the work clothes of a laborer. And these clothes weren't made by a tailor on special order. These clothes are baffling, unfamiliar work clothes resembling jackets and pants made from scraps of cotton cloth laying around and dyed dark blue by someone in the house. Right after dying, the cloth was supposed to be dark blue, but after I wore them once or twice, they faded into a strange color resembling purple.
With the exception of a stunning woman, purple Western-style clothes are not flattering. I added green gaiters made of a staple fiber and rubber-soled, white canvas shoes. My hat was a tennis hat also made from a staple fiber. The dandy dressed like that went on a trip for the first time in his life. Surprisingly, a haori coat with an embroidered crest sewn in as a memento of my mother, a lined Oshima kimono, and Sendaihira hakama trousers were hidden in my backpack. I have no idea when any of those clothes would be worn.
I boarded the express train leaving Ueno at 5:30 pm. As the night grew late, I shivered from the cold. Beneath my jacket-like clothing, I only wore two thin shirts. Under my pants, I only wore underpants. Even people wearing winter coats and prepared with lap blankets were cold and whining about the strange chill of that night. I hadn't expected the bitter cold. In Tokyo at that time, impatient people were already walking around wearing unlined serge kimonos.
I had forgotten about the cold of Tohoku. My hands and feet shriveled and I shrunk like a turtle. I tried to convince myself this is an exercise for training my mind. Dawn finally came and it was cold. I gave up training my mind. We would soon arrive in Aomori. I entered the lowly state of fervently wishing for the realistic circumstance of wanting to sit cross-legged beside a fireside in an inn somewhere and drink hot sake. We arrived in Aomori at eight in the morning. My friend T was at the station to welcome me. I posted a letter to him beforehand.
"I thought you'd be wearing Japanese clothes," he said.
"This is a different age," I tried hard to joke.
T brought a little girl with him. The thought, A present for her would have been nice, sprung to mind.
"Why don't you come home with me and rest for a while?"
"Thanks. I'm thinking about going to N's home in Kanita by noon today."
"I know, N told me and is probably waiting for you. Well, you're welcome to rest at my home until the bus leaves for Kanita."
My vulgar but cherished wish to sit cross-legged beside the hearth drinking hot sake was miraculously coming true. At T's home, a charcoal fire was blazing in the hearth, and a bottle of sake rested in an iron kettle.
"You've had a long journey," said T and bowed to me again, "How about a beer?"
"No, thanks. The sake is fine," I said clearing my throat.
In the old days, T lived at my house and mostly took care of the chicken coops. We were the same age and became good friends. In those days, I remember hearing my grandmother criticize T with "Yelling at the maids has good and bad points." Later T went to Aomori to study and then worked in a hospital in Aomori City and gained the trust of both the patients and the hospital employees. A few years ago, he went to war to fight on an isolated island in the south but got sick and returned home last year. After he recovered, he began to work at the hospital.
"What was your happiest time on the battlefield?"
T's response was swift.
"That was when I filled my cup to the brim with my beer rations on the battlefield. I sipped with great care and thought about taking the cup away from my lips for a rest, but the cup never left my lips. Never."
T was also a man who liked sake. However, he didn't even drink a little with me and from time to time lightly coughed.
"How are you feeling?" I asked.
Sometime in the past, T had a lung problem that flared up again on the battlefield.
"This time I'm serving on the home front. When caring for patients in the hospital, if you haven't suffered once from sickness, you lack understanding. Now, I have good experience."
"It seems you've become an adult. In reality, it's the chest illness," I said. I got tipsy and began to shamelessly expound on medicine to a doctor.
"Your disease is in your mind. If you forget about it, you will recover. And drink a lot of sake once in a while."
"Oh, well, I'm not overdoing it," he said smiling. My reckless medical science could hardly be relied on by professionals.
"Would you like something to eat? Around this time of the year, delicious fish are scarce even in Aomori."
"No, thank you," I said while gazing at the trays on the side, "Everything looks delicious. Don't go to any trouble. I don't want to eat too much."
I made one promise to myself before setting off to Tsugaru. I would be indifferent to food. I'm not comfortable saying I'm not much of a saint, but the people of Tokyo are greedy for food. I'm a stodgy man or a samurai who revels in honorable poverty by chewing on a toothpick as if he just finished a meal. But I love being amused by my idiotic stoicism that hinted of desperation.
I thought about using that post-meal toothpick, but that sort of manly pride tends to look ridiculous. Among the Tokyoites who go to the provinces lacking spirit and will, most will not die of starvation but will exaggerate and complain about their horrible plight. After the meal of white rice held out by the country people is presented and eaten, I've heard rumors of someone wearing a servile smile and full of flattery ask, "Is there any more to eat? Is this a potato? Thank you. It's been many months since I've eaten a potato this delicious. I'd like to take a little home, if you could slice it up for me…"
Everyone in Tokyo receives identical food rations. It's a miracle for only that person to be in a state of near starvation. Perhaps, they underwent gastric dilation, but the plea for food is disgraceful. Each and every time, without saying in defiance words like "For the sake of the country," they must hold on to their pride as human beings. A few exceptions in Tokyo go to the countryside and complain irresponsibly about a shortage of food in the imperial capital. I also heard rumors that the people in the countryside scorn guests from Tokyo who come to beg for food.
I didn't come to Tsugaru to scrounge for food. Although I looked like a purple beggar, I was a truthful and loving beggar and not a polished-rice beggar! In order to be the glory of all the people of Tokyo, I hid my determination to cut out the pretentious attitude in the tone of my voice. If someone looked at me and said, "This is rice. Please eat until your stomach bursts. Is the situation horrible in Tokyo?" Even if they said it with kindness from their hearts, I would only eat a little. I imagined I would say, "I'm used to it. Tokyo's rice is delicious. When I think the side dishes were almost gone, more rat
ions come. Without my noticing, my stomach shrinks, so I'm full after eating a little. It happens a lot."
However, this warped caution of mine was pointless. I visited the homes of friends here and there in Tsugaru. Not one said to me, "Here's some rice. Please eat until your belly bursts." My eighty-eight-year-old grandmother at my parents' home, in particular, looking ashamed said, "Since Tokyo probably has all sorts of delicious food, it would be hard to find something delicious for you to eat. Why would you want to be forced to eat pickled melons? These days, there are almost no sake lees." I was actually happy.
In other words, I only met gentle people who were not sensitive to things like food. I thanked god for my luck. No one said, "Please, take this. Please, take that," and persisted in pushing food gifts on me. Thankfully, I continued my pleasant journey carrying a lightweight backpack. However, when I returned to Tokyo, I was surprised to find small parcels sent from the amazing people at each place I visited before returning home. I digress, but T never recommended food to me, and the state of food in Tokyo never came up. We mainly talked about our memories of the times spent together at my home in Kanagi.
"I think of you as my close friend."
My words were conceited and filled with the theatricality of outrage, rudeness, and sarcasm. I squirm at having said that. Was there no other way to say that?
"But you're uncomfortable." T made a perceptive guess.
He said, "I worked at your home in Kanagi, so you're my boss. If you don't think so, I would not be happy. It's strange. Although twenty years have passed, even now, I constantly dream of your house in Kanagi. I even saw it on the battlefield. I forgot to feed the chickens. Dammit! I thought and instantly woke from the dream."
The time for the bus came. I went out with T. The weather was no longer cold but pleasant, and I drank hot sake. Was it cold? Sweat stained my forehead. We talked about the cherry blossoms in Gappo Park being in full bloom. The streets of Aomori City were dry and white. No, I will be prudent in my explanation of the nonsensical impression reflected on my drunken eyes. Today, Aomori City is zealous about shipbuilding. We hurried to the bus depot, but along the way, I visited the grave of Papa Toyoda, who had been so kind to me during my middle school years.
The old me would have asked, "Why don't we both go to Kanita?" without a care in the world. But as I aged, I remember to be a little more reserved. No, my feelings are hard to explain. In other words, we have grown up. Being grown is miserable. Despite sharing mutual affection, we must show discretion and preserve good manners with others.
Why is so much discretion required? There is no answer because too much treachery and humiliation abound. The discovery that people are treacherous is the first theme when a youth moves into adulthood. An adult is a youth who has been backstabbed. We walked without speaking until T said, "I'll go to Kanita tomorrow. I'll take the first bus tomorrow morning and drop by N's house."
"What about the hospital?"
"Tomorrow is Sunday."
"Oh, really? You could have said so sooner."
Traces of our foolish youth remained.
Chapter Two
* * *
Kanita
The Tokai coast of the Tsugaru Peninsula was a prosperous shipping route long called Sotogahama. I boarded the bus in Aomori City and headed north along the Tokai coast, passed through villages and towns like Ushirogata, Yomogita, Kanita, Tairadate, Ippongi, Imabetsu and arrived at the famed Minmaya from the legend of Yoshitsune. The trip took about four hours.
Minmaya was the last stop of the bus line. I would walk north along the narrow road from Minmaya at the water's edge for almost three hours to the hamlet of Tappi. As the name, where the dragon flies, says, this place is where the road runs out. The cape is the northern tip of Honshu. However, recently, this area has become very important for defense; therefore, I must avoid mentioning the number of miles and other particulars. The belt of Sotogahama boasts the oldest history in Tsugaru.
Kanita is the largest hamlet in Sotogahama. From Aomori City by bus, they say the ride via Ushirogata and Yomogita lasts about ninety minutes, but I reached this town, that is, the center of Sotogahama, in about two hours. There are close to one thousand households and a population larger than five thousand. The recently built Kanita Police Station stands out as the most eye-catching of the buildings passed by the Sotogahama line.
Kanita, Yomogita, Tairadate, Ippongi, Imabetsu, and Minmaya, namely all of the Sotogahama hamlets, are under the jurisdiction of this police station. According to A Brief History of Aomori Prefecture published by Takeuchi Umpei, a native of Hirosaki, long ago, sand iron was produced at the beach at Kanita. Today, it's no longer produced, but the construction of Hirosaki Castle in the Keicho era used refined sand from this beach. During the uprising of the Ainu people in Kanbun year 9 (1669), five large ships to suppress the rebellion were built on the Kanita beach. During the Genroku era, the fourth daimyo Tsugaru Nobumasa designated Kanita harbor as one of the six harbors and three checkpoint stations that together formed the Tsugaru Kuura and placed the town magistrate there. It primarily managed timber exports, but I learned all of this through later research. At the time, I only knew Kanita was famous for producing crabs and N, my only friend from middle school, lived there.
In this walking tour of Tsugaru, I wanted to stop by N's home and spend a pleasant time. I sent a letter to N before I came and wrote something like:
Please, don't go to any trouble. Act like you know nothing. Please don't hold any kind of reception. Well, just apple cider and crabs are fine.
The only exception to my self-discipline regarding food is crabs.
I love crabs. Why do I love them? I love crabs, shrimp, squilla, only foods with no nutrients. Therefore, my favorite is sake. A disciple of love and truth who is supposed to have no interest in food talking like this has, by chance, exposed one edge of my innate greed.
At N's home in Kanita, crabs were piled on a large tray with red cabriole legs and carried to me.
"Do you have to drink apple cider? Are both Japanese sake and beer bad?" asked N with difficulty.
I know about their bad parts and decided they were better than cider, but the grown-up me knew the valuable parts of Japanese sake and beer. I held back when I wrote apple cider in the letter. I heard that these days in the Tsugaru district, apple cider is fairly abundant like wine in Koushu.
"Either is fine," I said with a confused smile.
N looked relieved and said, "I feel better hearing that. I don't like cider. The truth is, my wife saw your letter and said Dazai has given up drinking sake and beer in Tokyo and wants to drink the apple cider of home. Because you definitely wrote this in your letter, we should serve you cider. But I couldn't, I told her you don't hate beer or sake and, out of character, you were acting reserved."
"Well, your wife was not wrong."
"What are you saying? Come here. First, we'll have sake? Beer?"
"Later is better for beer," I said a bit shamelessly.
"I think so too. Hey, bring the sake! If warm is okay with you, she'll bring it now."
It is hard to forget sake from anywhere.
Speak of a land far from home, renew an old friendship.
Together, we did not reach greatness and were surprised by gray hair.
Parted twenty years ago. Traveled more than three thousand ri.
Now, without a cup of sake, life cannot be described.
Haku Kyoi
During my middle school years, I never went to play at anyone's home. The reason was I often went to play at my classmate N's home. In those days, N boarded on the second floor of a large sake dealer in Tera-machi. Every morning, we met and walked to school together. And on the way home, we took our time walking along the coast on the back streets. Even when it rained, we weren't in a rush and walked at a leisurely pace even if we ended up soaked like wet rats. Thinking about it now, we were two dopey kids with generous spirits. That might have been the key to our friendship.
This time our fun wasn't tennis and running. N left the magazine company to work at an insurance company. Like me, his big-hearted nature led to him always being cheated by people. Each time someone cheated me, I became a little darker and meaner. In contrast, N became more easygoing and light-hearted, no matter how much he was cheated. N is a mysterious man and admirable for not feeling mistreated. His flippant friend considers that to be a benefit inherited from his ancestors and holds his gentle nature in high regard.
N visited me at my birthplace in Kanagi during middle school. Even after coming to Tokyo, he often visited the home of my next-older brother in Tokka. When this brother died at twenty-seven, N took off work to do various errands for me and was thanked by all of my relatives. Later, N had to return to the countryside to take over his family's rice polishing business. He gained the trust of the young people of the village due to his mysterious innate virtue after inheriting the family business. A few years ago, he was elected as a town councilman of Kanita, took on various responsibilities of executive secretary of some association, and became an indispensable man in Kanita.
That evening, a couple of people stopped by the home of N, a young influential man in the district, for drinks of sake and beer. N's popularity was amazing, the star of the troupe. What was told to the world as the rules of a pilgrimage by the elderly Basho, the first condition was to not drink sake for enjoyment, to refuse treats of food and drink, to prevent becoming even slightly intoxicated, and to never end up confused. However, I understand the advice from the Analects of Confucius says to drink unknown quantities of sake without acting rude. I did not follow the teachings of Basho.