When a young woman’s father turned to a youth and inquired of him, “Do you love my daughter?” the youth replied: “It’s no longer a question of loving or not loving: I would happily die for the young lady. I would die in return for a single tender glance from those precious eyes of hers. I would have you watch me hurl myself from yon cliff, fall to the rocks below, and be smashed thereon to a bloody pulp.” Shaking his head, the father spoke: “The truth is, I’m also disposed to indulge in an occasional lie, and having two liars in a family as small as mine is something I’ll have to think about.”
Today, the word “liar” made Tsuda more uncomfortable than usual in an ironic way. He was a man who affirmed the liar in himself. A man who fundamentally recognized the lies of others. Even so, he wasn’t inclined even a little to turn his back on life. On the contrary, he was a man who went so far as to believe that lies were necessary if life from day to day was to be managed. Without knowing it, he had conducted his own life until now according to this vague view of humanity. He had simply lived. As a consequence, when he thought about things at some depth he managed only to confuse himself about where he stood.
Love and falsehood.
The anecdote he had just read had evoked these two words, but he was at a loss to explain the connection between them. He felt bewildered, possessed by a grave problem that clamored for resolution, but until he could find an opportunity to experiment, his only choice was to turn it unavailingly in his mind. He was not a philosopher; even a properly systematic approach to examining the view of life he had lived until now exceeded his ability.
[ 116 ]
TSUDA TURNED over in his mind one unresolved issue after the other, and when he noticed the time, it was past noon. His brain was tired. He had lost the courage to continue considering anything more at length. But there was too much daylight left, even though it was autumn, to simply lie in bed. He began to feel bored and turned his thoughts back to O-Nobu. It was unreasonable of him to have expected her to show up again today. He had spent hours dwelling on matters best concealed from her for her sake, and the minute he had tired of such considerations he had expected, complacently enough, that she would soon arrive. It hadn’t even occurred to him to absolve himself of any responsibility for thoughts that had naturally risen to his mind. Just as he perceived things in O-Nobu that defied his understanding, he was also hiding things from her—the thought may have been at work on him in the background of his consciousness, but even such a notion wasn’t about to articulate itself in words until a crisis was at hand.
Time passed, and O-Nobu failed to appear. Neither, of course, did the person he was awaiting more eagerly, Madam Yoshikawa. Tsuda was annoyed. For some time he had been assaulted by a voice nearby practicing his least favorite song passage from the Noh theater. Abruptly he recalled having seen an oblong sign advertising “instruction in Noh recitative.” It was hanging in front of a two-story house diagonally across the street from the laundry. Apparently the second floor had been turned into a rehearsal studio; in view of the distance, the rising and falling cadences reached him at an astonishing volume. Unable to think of a reason that would give him the right to interfere with someone’s arbitrary behavior, he could do nothing about his disgruntlement. He could only wish devoutly to be discharged from the hospital soon.
Behind the willow tree was a red-brick warehouse; to the left and right of a company crest, an inverted “V” for mountain with a single line beneath it, two large spikes with right-angles at the end protruded from the wall. As Tsuda gazed at them vacantly with eyes that were scarcely focused and wondered what they might be for, he heard the sound of footsteps hastening up the stairs. He winced. From the headlong sound it was easy enough to surmise with some confidence whose footsteps they were.
His prevision quickly became reality. He turned toward the open door and at just that moment, clad in his newly acquired overcoat, Kobayashi strode into the room.
“How goes it?”
Kobayashi sat down on the tatami at once, his legs folded beneath him. In place of a greeting, Tsuda smiled uncomfortably. He was already wondering, seeing Kobayashi’s face, why he had come.
“Have a look,” he said, thrusting the arm of the overcoat at Tsuda. “Thanks to you, I’ll survive another winter.”
He had said exactly the same thing to O-Nobu, but Tsuda, who had received no report from her at yet, missed the irony.
“Your wife must have dropped in?” he continued.
“Of course—why wouldn’t she have?”
“She must have said something?”
Uncertain whether to reply yay nor nay, Tsuda hesitated. He wanted to know what Kobayashi had said to O-Nobu. Either response would do so long as it prompted him to repeat himself. But in the instant the choice had to be made, he couldn’t decide which was more likely to succeed. His silence affected Kobayashi in an unexpected way.
“She was hopping mad, wasn’t she? I thought so.”
Tsuda leaped at this obvious opening.
“Because you tormented her.”
“I did no such thing. I teased her a tad too much, poor thing. Did she cry?”
Tsuda was surprised a little.
“You said things that would make her cry?”
“You know me, just my usual drivel. The problem is, your missus doesn’t realize that despicable characters like me even exist—that’s what happens when you grow up in an upper-crust family like the Okamotos. So every little thing appalls her. You should teach her not to get involved with a scoundrel like me and she’ll be fine.”
“I have taught her that, I’m trying,” Tsuda countered in kind. Kobayashi laughed aloud.
“It appears she could use some more lessons.”
Tsuda changed his tone.
“But how did you tease her?”
“You must have heard from O-Nobu-san.”
“I didn’t.”
Their eyes met. It was clear they were attempting to fathom each other’s thoughts.
[ 117 ]
TSUDA’S DESIRE to induce Kobayashi to tell the truth had a special significance. He well understood the more dramatically evident aspects of O-Nobu’s disposition. Quite unlike O-Hide, while her behavior in his presence tended to be supremely compliant and supremely gentle, she was also capable of an equal degree of intractability where he was concerned. She had but one gift and deployed it equitably in both domains of her personality. In cases when she had decided there was something that he mustn’t know or that was more conveniently hidden from him, she became a wife who was altogether beyond managing. The more obedient she was, the less possible it became for Tsuda to extract anything from her. Because of the upheaval O-Hide had caused, there hadn’t been time to inquire about what had passed between her and Kobayashi the day before, but when he considered, though it hadn’t been an option, whether, in the absence of any impediment, asked by him for a report of exactly what had happened, O-Nobu would have satisfied him straight away with a reply that was deficient in no minutest detail, he had his considerable doubts. Judging from her usual behavior, Tsuda believed on the contrary that he would have been deceived. In the event that Kobayashi had indiscreetly blurted precisely what he feared, in that case in particular, O-Nobu appeared to be the sort of woman who could bypass her husband by pretending not to have heard and saying nothing. In his observation at least, she was abundantly capable of this. Assuming it was already necessary to give up on O-Nobu, Tsuda’s only access to the information he required was Kobayashi.
Kobayashi seemed somehow aware of this.
“I can tell you, I didn’t say a thing. If you don’t believe me, ask O-Nobu-san again. I did apologize on my way out because I felt bad, but the fact is even then I had no idea why I was apologizing.”
To hear him talk, he might have been oblivious. Abruptly he reached for the book open at Tsuda’s pillow side and scanned it for a minute in silence.
“This is the sort of thing you read?” he inquired in a voice that dripp
ed contempt. Riffling the pages carelessly, he moved backward from the end toward the beginning. Discovering Okamoto’s small seal on the inside cover, he murmured, “No wonder!”
“O-Nobu-san must have brought this with her, I thought it was an odd book. By the way, I imagine Okamoto has plenty of money?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Of course you do. It’s where O-Nobu-san grew up.”
“I didn’t marry her for his money.”
“Really?”
This simple “Really?” rang oddly in Tsuda’s head. It might have been taken to mean, “As if you’d marry without checking into Okamoto’s assets!”
“Okamoto is O-Nobu’s uncle, in case you didn’t know. It’s not as if that were her home or anything like it.”
“Really?”
Kobayashi repeated the word. Tsuda found it even more unpleasant.
“If you’re so keen on knowing what Okamoto is worth, shall I look into it for you?”
Kobayashi snickered. “When you’re poor, even other people’s money makes you suffer.”
Tsuda didn’t reply. He hoped his silence would terminate the conversation, but Kobayashi resumed at once.
“I do wonder what he’s worth. Seriously.”
This persistence was distinctly characteristic. And it was always possible to interpret his attitude in two ways. One could adjudge him a fool and there was an end to it; at the same time, once it began to seem that he was making a fool of you, there was no end to evidence of that. Tsuda found himself standing midway between credence and doubt. As a result, at times when his own shortcomings seemed latently implicated, he couldn’t help tending toward the latter interpretation, that he was being played the fool. Feeling that his only option was taking care not to grant his companion the upper hand, he merely smiled wanly.
“Shall I borrow a little for you?”
“To hell with borrowing. I’d accept a gift if you can get it—no, I don’t want a gift either; anyway, he doesn’t seem inclined. But if that’s the only choice, well, why not?” Kobayashi guffawed. “Maybe I should let Okamoto-san in on an interesting secret before I go to Korea and accept a little something from him.”
Tsuda quickly turned the conversation to Korea.
“When do you plan on leaving?”
“Not sure yet.”
“But you will be leaving?”
“I will! With or without any prompting from you, when the day comes I’ll be on my way.”
“I’m not prompting. I just want to plan a farewell party.”
Tsuda’s unstated reason for proposing a party was to create as a precaution a second opportunity in the event he should be unable to learn all he needed to know from Kobayashi today.
[ 118 ]
INASMUCH AS, intentionally or as it happened, Kobayashi wouldn’t be led in the direction Tsuda wanted, this precaution may have been necessary. Throughout, while appearing to respond to Tsuda’s inquiries, Kobayashi was actually deflecting them. And from start to finish, he clung pertinaciously to topics that concerned himself. Since what he had to say related, however indirectly, to what Tsuda wanted to hear he listened, if impatiently and with annoyance. He had the feeling that he was being shaken down in a roundabout way.
“I was wondering if Yoshikawa and Okamoto were related,” Kobayashi said inconsequently.
“They’re not relatives, just friends. I told you that the last time you asked.”
“You did? They have so little to do with me I must have forgotten. They may be friends, but they must be more.”
“What does that mean?”
Tsuda wanted to add, “Idiot!”
“I just mean they must be special friends—you needn’t get so angry about it.”
The relationship between Yoshikawa and Okamoto was just as Kobayashi imagined it. The simple truth was simply that. But it was easily possible to observe both sides of that reality, front and back as it were, by installing Tsuda and O-Nobu just behind it.
“You’re a lucky man,” Kobayashi said. “All you have to do is care for O-Nobu-san.”
“I do care for her. I don’t need you pointing out how important that is.”
“Really?”
There it was again! Every time Kobayashi repeated his sanctimonious “Really?” Tsuda felt that he was being threatened.
“But unlike me, you’re a clever one. I suppose you know that everybody thinks you’ve surrendered completely to O-Nobu-san.”
“Who’s everybody?”
“Sensei. His missus—”
It had already occurred to Tsuda that his Aunt and Uncle Fujii held such a view of him.
“I have surrendered, so I can’t help if that’s how it looks.”
“Really?—I’ll say this, an honest John like me can’t hope to emulate you. You’re a class act.”
“You’re honest and I’m a fake, is that what you’re saying? But the fake is admirable and the honest John’s a fool? Since when is that your philosophy?”
“It’s been a while now. And I’m getting ready to go public with it, on the occasion of my departure to Korea.”
An odd premonition flickered in Tsuda’s head.
“Do you have your travel expenses?”
“I don’t think that will be a problem.”
“The company has decided to pay?”
“By no means. I decided to borrow some money from Sensei.”
“Did you? How convenient!”
“There’s nothing convenient about it. You might not think so, but it makes me sick that I have to rely on Sensei.”
This was the man who had no trouble asking Uncle Fujii to see to his younger sister’s marriage.
“I may be a shameless wretch, but I feel terrible about bothering Sensei about money on top of everything else.”
Tsuda didn’t reply. Kobayashi’s next remark sounded genuine enough.
“Isn’t there anyone you can put some pressure on?”
“Not really,” Tsuda snapped, pointedly looking away.
“No one at all? There must be someone somewhere?”
“There isn’t. Business is bad recently.”
“How about you? The world may be in a slump, but you always seem to be doing well enough.”
“Don’t be an ass.”
Having handed over to O-Nobu both the check from Okamoto and the parcel O-Hide had left, Tsuda’s wallet was as good as empty. But on this occasion, with or without assets, he didn’t feel like making a financial sacrifice for Kobayashi’s sake. So long as circumstances left him any choice, he felt no need of accommodating his companion.
Oddly, Kobayashi didn’t press him further. He did, however, turn the conversation abruptly in a curious direction that came as a surprise.
At Fujii’s house that morning, having been served lunch as always, he had already spent considerable time editing a manuscript when the lattice door at the entrance had opened and he had gone out himself to greet whomever was there. The figure standing in the doorway turned out to be O-Hide.
Damn her! Tsuda cried out to himself. She’s beaten me to the punch!
But that wasn’t the end of it. Kobayashi had more surprises in store.
[ 119 ]
HE DELIVERED his surprises in stages in his own singular way. He began by chaffing Tsuda.
“She told us she’s been fighting with you. She went on about it and Sensei was pretty upset, your aunt, too.”
“And you were just listening on the sidelines?”
Kobayashi scratched his head, smiling awkwardly.
“It’s not as if I was trying to listen! I couldn’t help hearing. Anyway, O-Hide talked and Sensei did the listening.”
It was partly O-Hide’s nature to be willful and single-minded. When this predilection was stimulated in some way, her normal composure evaporated and she was capable of displaying a sudden and surprising fierceness that was foreign to anything in Tsuda’s own temperament. Uncle Fujii was no slouch himself, a man who was never satisfied until he
had plumbed a situation to the bottom of the well without caring how that was to be achieved. His attitude toward a companion at a time like this was to insist to the bitter end, even if only in words, that all things must be aligned and consecutive in a context that made sense. Putting his thoughts in order on the page had become a habit that was reflected in his approach to daily life, and its impact was visible in his tenacity. In an argument he granted the other side unlimited opportunity to speak. In return he asked an unlimited number of questions. Past a certain point, it was frequently the case that the nature of his questions transformed into interrogation.
Tsuda pictured his uncle and his sister sitting across from each other. He couldn’t help worrying that their exchange might have provoked yet another upheaval. In Kobayashi’s presence, however, he strove to appear, on the surface at least, insouciant.
“She must have had a grand time cutting me to pieces.”
Kobayashi’s response, after laughing loudly, was to say,
“It’s unlike you to fight with O-Hide.”
“She picked the fight because it was me! You can bet she’d be more careful in front of Hori.”
“Maybe so—you hear a lot about a lover’s spat, but I wonder if a sibling quarrel isn’t more common. I’ve never had a wife so I don’t know a thing about that department, but even I have a younger sister, so if we’re talking about a sibling quarrel I can understand what that might be like. But you know what? I may not be much of a big brother, but I don’t think I’ve ever quarreled with my kid sister.”
“Kid sisters aren’t all alike.”
“But it must have something to do with the brother.”
“Even a big brother gets mad sometimes.”
Kobayashi grinned.
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