Home to Tsugaru

by Osamu Dazai

  "You're wrong, we're going to an inn in Minmaya. I'll have them salt and grill it and serve it on a large plate for three people."

  "Well, you're thinking is peculiar. I'd like to see what kind of marriage ceremony you had."

  "Anyway, aren't you grateful I was able to soak up a bit of luxury for one yen seventy sen?"

  "I'm not thankful. Around here one yen seventy sen is a lot. In fact, you aren't a skilled shopper."

  "Really?" I said, disappointed.

  I finally entered the temple grounds with the two-feet-long fish dangling down.

  "What should I do?" I quietly conferred with M, "I'm at a loss."

  "So that's it," said M looking pensive, "I'll go to the temple and get a newspaper or something. Wait here. I'll be right back."

  M went to the back of the temple kitchen and returned with newspapers and string. He wrapped up the problem fish and put it in my backpack. I was relieved and looked up at the temple gate and did not see a particularly splendid building.

  "It's not much of a temple, is it?" I whispered to N.

  "No, no, no. Inside is much better. Let's go in and listen to the priest's explanation."

  I felt depressed and plodded behind N. From then on, our experience would be bitter. The priest was out, but his fifty-year-old wife came out and gave us a tour of the main temple. A prolonged explanation followed. The whole time we sat in the proper kneeling position and listened. When she paused and happily stood, N drew closer and said, "If I may, I'd like to ask one more question. Around when did Priest Teiden build this temple?"

  "What do you mean? Saint Teiden did not found this temple. Teiden was the fifth generation priest of this temple's founder and revived the sect," she said and continued her drawn-out explanation.

  "So that's what happened," said N and blankly stared, "If I may, I have another question. This Priest Teizan…" He said Priest Teizan and was in a muddle.

  An enthusiastic N kept inching closer, asking questions and getting answers, until he was separated by a gap the width of a sheet of paper from the knees of the old woman. It would be dark soon. My spirits sank thinking about having to leave for Minmaya.

  "That wonderful, large tablet over there was written by Ono Kurobei."

  "Is that so?" admired N, "And who is Ono Kurobei…"

  "You've probably heard of him. He is one of the Loyal Retainers."

  I think she said loyal retainer.

  She said, "He died on this ground at the age of forty-seven and was a man of deep faith and often made huge donations to this temple."

  At this moment, M rose and went over to stand before the old woman and held out an object wrapped in white paper from his inner pocket, and bowed without speaking a word. He turned to N and whispered, "We must say good-bye."

  "Oh, yes, we must be going," said N with a generous heart and complimented the old woman, "Your talk was excellent," and finally stood to leave.

  Later when I asked N if he recalled one thing told to him by the woman, he said no. We were amazed.

  I said, "You fired off questions with so much passion."

  "Oh, I wasn't paying the least bit of attention. I was terribly drunk. I thought you two wanted to learn more. I forced myself to keep speaking," he said, laying bare his empty sacrifice.

  We arrived at the Minmaya inn after sunset and were escorted to a small, clean room on the second floor in the front. All the inns in Sotogahama were high class, unlike the town. We could see the sea from our room. Light showers began, and the white seas calmed.

  "This isn't bad. We have the sea bream and can leisurely eat while gazing at the rain on the sea," I said while retrieving the wrapped fish from my backpack.

  I handed the package to the housemaid and said, "This is sea bream. Please salt and grill it then bring it back."

  The maid looked slow-witted and only said, "Yes." She seemed distracted when she took the package and left the room.

  "Do you think she understood?" asked N who seemed to have the same concern. He called to stop her and to give further instructions but not clearly.

  "Salt and grill this as is. There are three of us, but there's no need to cut it in three. Most importantly, three equal pieces are not needed. Do you understand?"

  Of course, the maid replied with a casual, "Yes."

  Finally, the meal arrived. The unsmiling, obtuse maid said, "The fish is salted and grilled, but we don't have sake today."

  "Well, we'll have to drink the sake we brought with us."

  "It seems so," said N and drew a water bottle closer, "Excuse me, please bring two sake bottles and three cups."

  We were joking about three not being enough when the sea bream arrived. N's caution about no need to cut the fish into three pieces led to a foolish result. The head, the tail, and the bones were gone. Only the salted and grilled flesh of the fish cut into five pieces was placed on an inelegant, faded plate. I'm never particular about food. I didn't buy the two-feet-long sea bream because I wanted to eat it. Dear reader, you probably understand. I wanted the fish with the tail intact to be grilled and placed on a large plate as a vision for me to gaze at. The predicament was not whether to eat the fish or not. I wanted to enjoy the fine feeling of drinking sake while gazing at the fish. N's explanation to keep the fish intact was peculiar, but the callousness of the inn worker who decided to slice up the sea bream into five pieces was aggravating and despicable. I was provoked.

  "No one asked for this."

  I glared at the five pieces of grilled fish (no longer sea bream, just grilled fish) dumped on the plate, and I wanted to cry. Even if the fish had been prepared as sashimi, I still would have been disappointed. What happened to the head and the bones? Did they throw away the splendid, huge head? An inn in a land with an abundance of fish creates an unimaginative dish and knows nothing of cooking techniques.

  "Don't get mad. It's good," said N with his well-rounded personality and selected a piece of grilled fish with chopsticks, "All right. You can eat all of it by yourself. Eat. I'm not eating. Can you gobble this up? As usual, I made a mistake. There was no need for three equal pieces. That idiot maid was confused by my extraneous comments in the pretentious words used in a budget meeting of the Kanita Town Council. I was wrong and am sorry."

  N gave an easy laugh and said, "But isn't this amusing? I said not to cut into three pieces, so they cut it into five. The people here are smart. Elegant. Let's toast. A toast."

  I was keen for a meaningless toast. Was it resentment over the sea bream? I got dead drunk, reached a vague agitation, and dropped off to sleep. Even now as I remember, I'm still upset over that sea bream. Usually, I'm insensitive.

  I woke the next morning to rain. I went downstairs to ask about the boats, but the inn attendant said they were canceled for the day. We had no choice but to walk along the coast to Tappi and decided to leave when the rain cleared. We crawled back into our futons and chatted.

  "Once upon a time, there were two sisters," I began a fairy tale, "The sisters were given the same number of pinecones by their mother and ordered to make rice and miso soup. The stingy and cautious younger sister carefully placed each pinecone in an oven and burned them up. She was unable to simmer a satisfactory miso soup or rice. The older sister had a gentle, carefree nature and dumped all her pinecones to feed the oven. With that fire, she made rice and, with the leftover charcoal, made the miso soup.

  "Do you know that story? Let's have a drink. Isn't there one more bottle of the sake we were going to take to Tappi? Let's drink that. We can't be stingy. Drinking it all at once is no big deal. If we do, charcoal will be left over. No, it's all right even if nothing remains. When we go to Tappi, what will happen? Isn't it all right if there's no sake to drink in Tappi? No one will die. Falling asleep without drinking sake, and thinking about your past and future are not bad things."

  "Okay, I get it," said N and sprung up, "Let's do everything like the older sister. Let's drink it all at once."

  We gathered around the
hearth and warmed the sake in the kettle. We waited for the rain to stop by drinking the rest of the sake.

  Around noon, the rain stopped. We gulped down breakfast and prepared to leave. The cloudy day was a bit chilly. N and I parted from M at the front of the inn and headed north.

  "Shall we climb up?"

  N stopped in front of the shrine archway of the stone of Gikei-ji Temple. The name of Somebody Matsumae, the donor of the archway, was carved into a pillar.

  "Okay."

  We passed through the stone archway and climbed the stone steps. There were many steps to the top. Raindrops fell from the tops of the trees on both sides of the steps.

  "Is this it?"

  A timeworn Chinese-style temple stood at the peak of the small mountain cut with the stone stairs. The crest of Sasarindou no Minamoto was affixed to the temple door. For some reason, I was struck with disgust and again asked, "Is this it?"

  "It is," said N in a dopey voice.

  Long ago, Minamoto no Yoshitsune escaped to Takadachi. When he couldn't cross over to Ezo, he came to this place. Without favorable winds to cross, he stayed for several days. Unable to bear the wait, he placed the statue of Kannon, the goddess of mercy, in his possession on a rock on the sea floor and prayed for favorable winds. The winds changed at once and he crossed safely to Matsumae. That statue is now in this temple and is called the Kannon of Yoshitsune's Wind Prayer.

  This temple is usually introduced first in Toyuki.

  We walked down the steps in silence.

  "Look here and there on the stairs, are those depressions? Could they be the footprints of Benkei or the hoof prints of Yoshitsune's horse? What's the story?" asked N and had to laugh. I wanted to believe, but it was no good. There is a rock where you leave the archway. The reason is given in Toyuki:

  A large rock at the water's edge was pierced by three holes in a line like in a stable. That was the place for hitching Yoshitsune's horses. This is the origin of the name of Minmaya (three horses stable) for this place.

  I said, "This says two young delinquents from the Kamakura era came to ask for shelter for one night. One was someone with something to hide, Kurou Hogan, the name given to Yoshitsune by the Imperial Court, and the other was a bearded man Musashibo Benkei, the warrior monk who served Yoshitsune. And surely they deceived a country girl along the way. Tsugaru has too many legends about Yoshitsune. Not only in the Kamakura era, Yoshitsune and Benkei may have been prowling around three hundred years later in the Edo era, too."

  "But Benkei's role was probably drab," said N.

  N's beard was thicker than mine and looked anxious he may be forced into Benkei's role.

  "Was his role to lug heavy equipment?"

  As we talked, we imagined and found delight in the wandering life of the two young delinquents and were moved by envy.

  "There are a lot of pretty ladies around here," I whispered. The young women we glimpsed passing through the shadows of houses in the hamlets soon vanished. All were elegant with pale, white skin and a fresh appearance. Their hands and feet were probably soft.

  "That's true. If you say so, that's true."

  Few men are as indifferent to women as N. It's the sake.

  "Now, you probably won't believe me when I tell you my name is Yoshitsune," I said imagining such stupidity.

  We spoke this nonsense back and forth during our stroll but gradually quickened our pace into a full-fledged, two-man race. All talking stopped. We sobered up from our drunkenness brought on by the Minmaya sake. It was terribly cold. We had to hurry. Both of us looked solemn and strutted with determination. The sea breeze strengthened. I pull down the brim of my hat that almost blew off several times. Finally, the root of my hat's brim made of staple fiber ripped. Rain pattered down from time to time. Black clouds thinly covered the sky. The wave undulations increased and sprayed our cheeks as we walked down the narrow path along the coast.

  "The roads have gotten much better. They weren't like this six or seven years ago. In a couple of places, you had to wait for a break in the waves and rush through."

  "But even now, on a bad night, you can't walk at all."

  "Yes, night is bad. It was hard for Yoshitsune and Benkei, too."

  We kept our serious looks and kept walking.

  "You tired?" N turned and asked, "My legs are surprisingly strong."

  "Well, we're not old yet."

  After we walked for close to two hours, the scenery became unsettling. It felt dreadful, but that landscape no longer exists. Scenery is seen and described by different people over many years, softens under the gaze of human eyes, and is fed by people. Even at the 318-feet-high Kegon Falls, the scent of people is reminiscent of a caged beast. At famous dangerous places drawn in pictures, recited in songs, chanted in haiku from long ago, without exception, human expression is discovered. But no place along the coast on the northern edge of Honshu becomes scenery. The presence of people in the picture is not allowed.

  If people are forced into the scene, an Ainu elder wearing traditional white elm-bark clothing must be borrowed. A dandy man dressed in a purple jacket is pushed away without a second thought and will not be found in pictures or songs. There will be only rocks and water. Perhaps it was Goncharov who once encountered a storm while crossing the ocean, the experienced ship's captain said, "Please come out on deck. How would you describe this huge wave? You're a man of letters and can surely find a remarkable adjective for that wave." Goncharov looked at the wave, sighed, and spoke one word, "Terrifying."

  Similar to being unable to imagine any literary adjective for the raging waves of the ocean or the violent winds of the desert, the rocks or water in treacherous places in Honshu are simply terrifying. I looked away from those places and walked only staring at my feet. Around thirty minutes later we arrived in Tappi, I weakly laughed and said, "We're finally here. It would have been nice if we saved some sake. I doubt there's sake at an inn in Tappi. And I'm freezing," I grumbled in spite of myself.

  "I had that thought, too. We can go a little further to the home of an old friend who may have sake rations. No one drinks at his house."

  "Please try."

  "Okay, we cannot be without sake."

  His friend's home was in the hamlet right before Tappi. N removed his hat and entered the home. In a short time, he came out with a face trying not to smile.

  "Looks like our luck has not run out. He filled one water bottle for me. It's close to a liter."

  "The reason is the charcoal remained. Let's go."

  We had a little further to go. We bent over against the strong wind and jogged to Tappi. N thrust his head into a chicken coop where the road seemed to be narrowing. I didn't understand why at the time.

  "This is Tappi," said N in a changed tone.

  "Here?" I said unperturbed and looked around. It felt like a chicken coop, namely, the hamlet of Tappi. The small houses stood in a firm clump against savage winds and rain and protected each other. This place was an extreme end of Honshu. After leaving this hamlet, there are no roads. There's only a drop into the sea. The road vanishes. This is Honshu's dead end. Reader, do not forget this. My friends, when you walk north and take a road somewhere and go uphill. If you keep climbing, you will always reach the Sotogahama Road, and the road finally narrows. If you go further up, you will fall into a mysterious world resembling these tightly packed chicken coops. All roads end there.

  "Anyone would be surprised. When I first came here, I even considered entering a stranger's kitchen because I was getting cold," said N.

  This is critical land in the nation's defense, so I must avoid saying any more about this hamlet. An old woman came out and led us to a room. The room in this inn was also surprisingly neat and tidy, and the construction was not flimsy. We changed into the quilted nightgowns, sat cross-legged with the hearth between us, and regained tranquility.

  "Excuse me, is there any sake?" N asked the old woman in a wise, measured tone. Her response was unexpected.

 
"Yes, there is," said the woman graced with an oval, elegant face. Relieved by her answer, N smiled and said, "In truth Ma'am, we'd like to drink a bit."

  "Go right ahead. Drink as much as you like," she said smiling.

  We exchanged glances. I suspected this old woman may not have known how precious alcohol was around that time.

  "Today, we have rations. Since most of the homes nearby don't drink, I collect them," she said and moved her hands as in gathering and then spread her arms as if holding many half-gallon bottles, "Before I had this much."

  "That much is a lot," I said quite relieved, "I'm sorry to bother you, but could you warm the sake in an iron kettle and pour it into four or five, no, six bottles and bring them as fast as you can."

  I thought it'd be better to have her bring many more before she changed her mind.

  "We can eat later."

  As requested, the old woman brought six bottles of sake and placed them on the tray. Before we finished off two bottles, she came with the meal.

  "Here you are. Enjoy."

  "Thank you."

  The six bottles of sake were gone in no time.

  "They're all gone," I said in shock, "Gone in a flash. That was too fast."

  "We drank that much," said N looking doubtful and shook an empty bottle, "It's empty. Well, it is cold, and we gulped them down."

  "Each bottle nearly overflowed with sake. We drank them so fast, if I ask for six more, she may suspect we're supernatural beings. We can't create unneeded fear by asking for more sake, so let's warm up the sake we brought with us. We'll wait a bit and then ask for only six more. Why shouldn't we drink the night away in this inn at the northern tip of Honshu."

  I proposed this queer strategy, which became the foundation of my failure.

  We transferred the sake in the water bottles to the sake bottles but drank as slowly as we could. N quickly got drunk.

  "I can't do it. Tonight, I may get drunk."

  May get drunk? He was already plastered.

  "I can't do this. Tonight, I'm getting drunk. Okay? Can I?"