Deep green vines extended gracefully over the fence and gate. On them bloomed strikingly beautiful white flowers.
“What are those?” Mitsuuji asked.
“They’re ‘crow gourds,’ “3 one of the carriers replied. “From their name, you’d think they were black as crows, but they have white flowers and red fruit. They bloom only on poor, run-down fences like this one.”
“Yes,” Mitsuuji said, “most of the houses here certainly are very small. And their roofs look like they’re about to collapse. Those flowers certainly have bad luck blossoming in a place like this. Pick a few. I’ll take them back with me.”
The man walked over to the house and through its wicker gate. When he did, a young woman surely not yet twenty came out of the house wearing an apron of thin, yellow silk. She had an attractive face, and her skin was even whiter than the blossoms. She beckoned to the man with her round white fan.
“Put the flowers on this,” she said. “They’re wet with evening dew, and the thorns on the vine will hurt your beautiful hands.” She came forward very bashfully.
Korekichi had finally managed to open his gate, and when he did, he saw the woman and went over to her. He accepted the fan for Mitsuuji and took it to him.
“I apologize,” Korekichi said. “I forgot where I put the gate key and made you wait out in this noisy street. But no one around here will know who you are. Come along with me now.” Even after Mitsuuji’s palanquin had disappeared inside the gate, the young woman continued to stand where she was, gazing after it with a deep, wistful look.
12
When Mitsuuji went inside, Korekichi’s mother, worn out from her sickness, managed to get up slowly and greet him. “I cut off my hair,” she said, “and I’ve become a nun. I hesitated to visit you and haven’t been able to see your face at all. But I’ve followed the five precepts faithfully, and now I’ve been blessed by a visit from you in this poor house of mine. You’re my Amida Buddha, and this is the most memorable moment of my life. Now I’m ready to go away to paradise in the next world.”
The woman’s voice was filled with such joy that tears came to Mitsuuji’s eyes. “But your condition,” he assured her, “isn’t really that serious. Please think only about recovering, get some treatment, and be healthy again. Korekichi’s still young. Please take care of him until he’s able to get a proper position as a retainer. If you die while you’re still worried about his future, your anxious soul will have a hard time reaching the Pure Land. Don’t worry. I’ll have some monks at a temple I know chant sutras and pray for your recovery.” He went on at length, encouraging her and showing her great kindness.
After leaving the sick woman’s bedside, Mitsuuji asked Korekichi to light a rolled paper torch so he could read the fan from the young woman next door. He picked it up and saw that on it were written, most attractively, the words of a short commoner song:
Mitsuuji reads the writing on the round paper fan under the light held by Korekichi. Shinonome, Tasogare’s mother, approaches Mitsuuji from behind, holding a paper lantern.
Mistaking your light
for the bright full moon,
gourds float on their vines
and crows fly up cawing.
Mitsuuji was unprepared for the beauty of the flowing brushwork, and he was deeply moved. “Who lives in that house just to the west?” he asked.
“As you know,” Korekichi answered, “I came back here to take care of my mother. It’s the first time I’ve been home in a long while, and I’ve been so busy with Mother I don’t really know anything about the neighbors. Sometimes young women go in and out of that house, but I think the young woman who gave you the fan is the owner’s daughter.”
Mitsuuji listened closely, nodding and gazing fondly at the fan, from which came the scent of the incense the woman wore in her robes. He seemed to be longing for her already. “There’s something about this fan,” he said, “that I must know more about. Quickly, find someone who knows the neighborhood.”
It was a small room, so Mitsuuji’s voice must have traveled beyond the walls of the house, because a woman of about forty then entered the room without the slightest pretense of reserve. “With your kindest permission,” she said to Korekichi, “let me tell you all about your neighbors. My name is Shinonome,4 and I moved into the house next door in the Fourth Month. I have one daughter, Tasogare.5 She’s the one who gave you the fan. She’s extremely happy you’ve noticed the song she scribbled on it. I’ve heard your name before, but tonight’s the first time I’ve had the honor of meeting you in person. I make my living by teaching dancing to young women. My daughter teaches the shamisen, an instrument that recently came here from the Ryukyus.6 She’s not very good yet, but for people like you who move in high places, it would be something new and entertaining, I’m sure. My husband’s dead, so I’m a widow now, and there’s no one you need to worry about. Both my daughter and I hope very much that you and your visitor will come visit our house, though it’s a very shabby place.”
Mitsuuji smiled. “It sounds like a wonderful idea,” he said, getting up. “We’ll go over right now. Well, Shinonome, lead the way.” Korekichi thought Mitsuuji was being very imprudent, but he remembered his young age and said nothing.
Mitsuuji followed the woman through the gate he had seen earlier and entered her house. All the reed screens on the second floor were hanging down at full length, and the light that came through here and there was more deeply moving than the light of fireflies.7 Tasogare came out to greet him and invite him to come inside the hanging screens. Both mother and daughter treated him cordially, and he was fascinated by this commoner house, which was so new to him that he gazed all around.
13
“Earlier,” Mitsuuji asked, “when I was resting out in front, I saw two boards leaning against each other and pieces of a robe stretched out on them. Look, they’re still there. What are they?”
Shinonome looked through the screen in the front window. “It looks like Tasogare got very excited after she saw you,” she said, smiling. “She forgot about the laundry and left it outside. Fall’s coming soon, and there’s a lot of dew at night now. That robe’s going to get all wet. It must be a mess already. It’s one of my old summer robes, you know. Ordinary people like us don’t have special stretching frames, so we dry our robes on boards.”
Shamisen in hand, young Tasogare stands and looks shyly at Mitsuuji, who is enjoying saké and refreshments. A red and white dandara-pattern steel cane, representing a stylized rein, is hooked behind the head of a “spring horse” (harugoma), which is hanging on the wall above Mitsuuji. Both are props used for dances and appropriate to the house of a dance teacher, Shinonome’s profession.
Keeping time with his fan, Mitsuuji sang, “My house has curtains between rooms and hangings in the rooms. . . .”8
“Yes, that’s the old saibara song,” Shinonome said. “The word ‘curtain’ in it sounds the same as those boards outside, but it’s a different word. The long hanging silk curtains in the song were made from damask and brocade. But the house in the song, well, it’s also my house, so let me change some of the words and sing the whole song:
My house has clothes drying
on a stretcher made of boards
while I wait for a great lord to come
so I can make him my son-in-law—
What shall I give him with his wine?
Abalone, wreath shell, and sea urchin
“When I sing it, it turns into a short commoner song. ‘Make him my son-in-law’ sounds like a sign of good fortune to come, though the only delicious food I can ‘give him’ are the abalone, wreath shell, and sea urchin in the noisy songs of ordinary fisherpeople that my daughter sings to her shamisen. But tonight, please stay with us. Don’t you agree, Tasogare?”
“Well, yes,” Tasogare said. “But my bedding isn’t fit for a great man like this.” She spoke rather awkwardly and didn’t seem to know much about the world yet, but she was glowing with youth and quite
charming.
14
Just then a man coughed at the front door. “My lord, it’s me, Kiyonosuke,” he said. “I’ve just returned to the capital, and I heard you were here.”
When the man came up to the second floor, Shinonome’s manner suddenly became more formal, and she carefully watched Kiyonosuke out of the corner of her eye to see who he was. “I can see that he’s here on urgent business,” she said to Mitsuuji, “and I’m sure you’ll want to talk with him alone. Tasogare, bring in the robe and put the boards away. I’ll go get some good saké.” Both women left the room.
Kiyonosuke, kneeling, moved closer to Mitsuuji. “As you requested,” he said, “I told everyone I was going to go to a hot springs for a while, and I’ve traveled all the back roads around Kyoto. But I couldn’t find anything at all. Finally I couldn’t think of anything else to do, so today I came back. I went directly to your house, where I heard about Korekichi’s mother and your visit. I hurried to the house next door and then came all the way to this place and troubled you here. As you asked, I’ve retired using the pretense of illness. And at last I’ve found a good husband for Muraogi.9 Munekiyo, Yamana Sōzen’s only son, has asked to marry her. But my wife, Karaginu,10 has no relatives I can leave her with. Her father, Tsuchihashi Masanaga, died, and her clan no longer exists, so I’m going to take her with me back to my home in Iyo Province. Then I’ll be free to search the whole country for the sword.”
Mitsuuji motioned to Kiyonosuke with his fan, asking him to stop. Then he whispered to his retainer, who showed great surprise at what he was hearing.
“There’s no doubt about it,” Kiyonosuke said. “I’ll have them arrested right away.”
But Mitsuuji stopped him from getting up and looked around carefully. “If we rush, we’ll make mistakes. Listen, here’s what we’ll do.” Then his voice dropped even further.
Mitsuuji converses with Kiyonosuke on the second floor. Tasogare appears anxious as she folds the robe. Two pillows lie in front of a folding screen, which is adorned with images of the yūgao flower, foreshadowing Tasogare’s relationship with Mitsuuji.
“Very good, my lord, you stay here alone tonight.”
“Until dawn comes,” Mitsuuji said, “stay at the house next door.”
“Certainly. But there’s one other thing I would like to talk to you about. It has nothing to do with all this. I heard that while I was away, you were forced to stay at my house to avoid traveling in an unlucky direction. That night you asked that Muraogi be sent to serve your food, but unfortunately she was staying overnight at Kiyomizu Temple, offering an important prayer. So my wife Karaginu lied and said she was my daughter and went instead. She told me other people had heard about it, and now she feels so ashamed about deceiving you that she has decided to commit suicide. But I can’t allow a small thing like that disturb our important business, and I absolutely refused to let her kill herself. Still, I’d like to know what actually happened.”
“It was all just a trifling one-time thing,” Mitsuuji said in a faltering voice. “There’s no real reason to blame your wife. I don’t care about it at all.” He repeated the same words over and over again.11 “Please tell Karaginu she doesn’t need to worry, but never mention any of this to anyone. Well, what are you waiting for?” Kiyonosuke left quickly for Korekichi’s house.
15
Even unrefined mountain people feel the desire to rest for a while beneath beautiful cherry blossoms.12 Although everyone in the world has that wish, Tasogare could never have expected the high-ranking Mitsuuji to show any interest in her, but that night she slept beneath his love. The two exchanged vows as deep as those made by the lovers who compressed a thousand nights of love into a single night,13 and their desire to exchange even more vows ended only when roosters crowed at dawn. Soon the people in the houses in the neighborhood were up and busy at their business. Noisy conversations could be heard from many houses, and the grinding sound of a mortar and its foot pestle sounded to Mitsuuji like roaring thunder. He didn’t know what it was, but unable to sleep, he finally got up. He had never slept in such a small house before, and he was interested in seeing what it was like, so he helped Tasogare roll up the reed blinds, and together they looked outside. Bamboo had been planted in the tiny garden, but he was saddened to see that the white flowers on the fence had closed and were now drooping. From where he was, he could make out everyone who walked along the wide street in front. Then he saw a nun in black robes walking closer and closer. A young disciple, also in black robes, followed her, carrying her bundle. As Mitsuuji casually watched the nun pass the front gate, he realized it was Karukaya, whom he hadn’t seen for some time.
He wondered where she could be returning from. “Get her attention before she goes by!” he said to Tasogare, who stood up and clapped her hands from the second floor. Then she waved to the nun, inviting her in. The nun waved back and walked closer with an uncomprehending look on her face. When she saw Mitsuuji, she was extremely surprised. She went into the living room while Mitsuuji and Tasogare were coming down from the second floor.
“Ah, Karukaya!” Mitsuuji said, “It’s been all too long. Don’t sit so far away.”
At that, Karukaya, showing great respect, politely came closer to him, pushing herself along the floor as she knelt. “I’m very surprised to see you around here,” she said. “People of your stature are usually more careful about where they stay.”
Having just awakened and with her sash still half tied, Tasogare beckons to the nun Karukaya and her apprentice from upstairs.
Mitsuuji stopped her before she could go on. “That’s enough about me,” he said. “What about you? Last night you stayed somewhere. Did you have some interesting dreams14 there?”
Karukaya continued to stare at Mitsuuji. “Night after night you go prowling around,” she said, “and you don’t even know your own wife is sick. You even joke that no man should marry an older woman like Lady Futaba,15 who gets jealous so easily. You can be sure that those who want to criticize you have heard those remarks, and you soon will be blamed for them. Everything Futaba says is true, after all. She asked me to come chant sutras for her the day before yesterday, and this morning she felt better and said I could leave. Just now I was on my way back to my hermitage. Futaba gave me one of her beautiful outer robes and told me I could resew it into cloths for my altar. My disciple there is carrying it for me. Futaba was so kind as to suggest that I ride home in a palanquin. I was grateful for her offer, but I told her that for an ordinary person like me, with my upbringing, it was easier to walk. That’s why I was passing by with my disciple. The only reason I sometimes go to Futaba’s house is because she asks me to come, but I must say, she’s a very gentle person who was born with a marvelous personality. And yet you treat her as if you hated her.” She wept as she spoke.
Unable either to sit or leave, Tasogare felt very uncomfortable and moved her hands restlessly. But Mitsuuji laughed.
“Futaba would never tell you what she’s really thinking,” he said. “You’ve seen her only when you were chanting sutras for her. She looks like a beautiful person, but she’s always burning with jealousy inside. A while ago, at dawn, a strange woman appeared above my pillow. I can still see her staring fiercely at me, as if to say how bitterly she resented my ignoring her and visiting a common woman with no lineage. When I woke up, my body was covered with cold sweat. I thought about it carefully, and I’m sure it was Futaba. She’s utterly consumed by jealousy. I’m afraid of seeing her real face, you know, but if she’s sick I can’t just ignore her. Well, I’m off for the Akamatsu mansion.”16 Mitsuuji retied his sash and stood up.
Karukaya seemed to find something suspicious. “None of your men is out front,” she said.
“Don’t worry. My palanquin carriers are waiting for me at Korekichi’s house next door. Well, Tasogare, until next time.”
When Mitsuuji got up to leave, Shinonome, who had been listening to everything behind a sliding paper-covered door, stood up and
came into the room. Bowing very politely with both hands on the floor, she said, “Please at least have a cup of tea before you go. My daughter’s not very good, but she will make a cup for you.” As Shinonome spoke, she looked at Karukaya’s face and was amazed. “Why, you’re Kikyō, aren’t you!”
The nun, too, was surprised at suddenly hearing her old name. “Then you must be Shinonome,” she said. “Well, what a surprise!” The two women took each other by the hand and began to cry together.
Mitsuuji could see that their relationship was very close, but he did not ask about it and left directly for the Akamatsu mansion. When he got there he found that Futaba’s sickness was not serious, and so his wanderings began again. Whenever he went out, he also stopped at the house on Fifth Avenue, and Tasogare fell more and more deeply in love with him. Time passed, and autumn17 came. The many small intimacies they shared have been omitted here.
Yamana Munekiyo, son of the scheming Yamana Sōzen, pays for many performances by the top-ranking courtesan Akogi,18 but she never appears. Finally she tells him that while her mother was alive, Yamana’s father was one of her vassals and that she cannot stand him. Meanwhile, Mitsuuji visits the same licensed quarter on Sixth Avenue, the big avenue immediately south of the one on which Tasogare lives. He rarely buys performances by the women there, and when he occasionally goes as far as the bedroom, he then sends the women away and invites the house staff to drink with him. He and Akogi love each other but only exchange hokku.
Karukaya (bottom left) and Mitsuuji reunite in the living room as Tasogare watches nearby, holding a toothpaste case and brushing her teeth with a toothpick. The incense symbol in the “Yūgao” chapter of The Tale of Genji once again adorns the reed curtain beside her. Shinonome (top left) is surprised to see Karukaya.
Early Modern Japanese Literature: An Anthology, 1600–1900 Page 114