Etsuko listened with mounting excitement. So this was the source of that persistent shadow surrounding Yoshihiro. His fate of being saddled with a father like that must be playing on his mind all the time . . .
“. . . The revolt was put down overnight. Its leader, Major Hatanaka, killed himself in front of the Imperial Palace. Most of the civilians involved also committed suicide at Atagoyama or Yoyogi. But Shinnosuke Tsukamoto didn’t try to end his own life. Instead, he went into hiding and was arrested three months later. It was a period of confusion just after the end of the war, and the old criminal law was still in force. Even before a preliminary hearing could be arranged, he died of illness in prison, so no conviction was ever recorded against him . . .”
Ogata poured himself a glass of water and slowly drank it, looking into the distance through the window. Then he said, “Naturally, this type of offense is different from an ordinary crime. Even the former Prime Minister, Mr. Yoshida, was put into a military lockup during the war. There were many examples of conscientious objectors dying in prison. If we could look upon Tsukamoto’s case as simply the opposite extreme, then we could leave the matter at that. Yes, considering the frenzied atmosphere of those days, we could almost sympathize with him—except for one thing. Why didn’t he commit suicide together with his followers? Why did he allow himself to be labelled a coward, as well as a fanatic?”
“But father—”
“Wait a minute,” Ogata said, raising his hand. “This business about his father is not the only problem your friend’s got. There’s a very good reason for his resignation from Kyoraku University and his transfer to Chiyoda . . . At the end of the year before last he went to a hot spring resort far up in the mountains of the Sanin district. One night the inn he stayed at was gutted by fire and he suffered serious burns, narrowly escaping death. His younger brother, who was with him, was burnt to death.”
So this was the second fire he had been through, Etsuko thought. But why didn’t he tell her he had lost his younger brother in it? She felt her brain slowly going numb and her nerves tightening at the same time.
“Your friend was soon restored to health, I understand, but somehow he has never been quite the same since. At the end of last March he himself decided to move to Tokyo.”
“The shock of losing his brother would explain this, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, but the matter seems to be a bit more complicated than that. There’s something fishy about his dead brother, too. It has been suggested he was on the wrong side of the law—we’re looking into that right now. Anyway, it’s most unlikely your friend would’ve changed his place of work just because of his brother’s accidental death. No, there was another reason . . . I understand about three years ago he fell in love with the daughter of a company president who wields considerable influence in the Kansai business world. At first the girl’s parents were quite enthusiastic about Mr. Tsukamoto, but just before the engagement the whole thing was suddenly called off. And I’m told that while the father’s history did have a bearing on it, the main reason was the doings of the younger brother.”
Ogata’s every word tore into her, until she was on the verge of tears. How much Yoshihiro had to suffer through no fault of his own . . .
“He’s not responsible for any of those things,” she said with a quiver in her voice. “He can’t be blamed for everything . . .”
“You’re quite right,” he said soothingly. “I too have sympathy for Mr. Tsukamoto. Had I made his acquaintance by chance and subsequently discovered those unsavory facts about his family, I certainly wouldn’t have broken with him on that account. But when it comes to marriage, things just can’t be taken so lightly. One black sheep is bad enough, but he has two in his family. One can’t help thinking there must be an ominous streak in him, too. It’s often said that only a thin line separates genius from madness. The two living brothers may be fine people with outstanding ability, but how can you be sure the insanity of their dead father and brother isn’t in their blood?”
Ogata made his voice as soft as he could. “Etsu, dear, I know it’ll be hard for you to give him up. You’ve had one heartbreak fairly recently, and now this—but I’m sure you’ll get over it soon enough. While there are plenty of eligible men about, there’s no reason why you should marry one with a black cloud hanging around him. Admittedly, his questionable father and brother are both dead, so they wouldn’t personally cause any trouble, but there’s every possibility the mad streak in them would show up in your children. And if that happened, the trouble would persist, not only through your own lifetime, but right through to your grandchildren’s generation and beyond . . .”
Etsuko no longer could control the tears which had been glistening behind her glasses for some time—they slowly began to roll down her cheeks. Her father’s words had been most reasonable. Faced with so many unfavorable factors, no parent in his right mind could do anything but oppose this marriage proposal.
And yet, her father’s words had produced in her a feeling which was directly opposite to what he would have expected. She felt relieved because her doubts about Yoshihiro had been completely removed.
Now it didn’t look at all strange to her that he had a natural dislike for the police. Because of his younger brother, there must have been many occasions in the past when he had to contact the police, much as he would have despised the idea. Being afraid to reveal anything about his dead brother, it was also natural for him to avoid going into details about the second fire, which had involved that brother. It had also been quite reasonable for Kawaji to fall suddenly silent when the conversation had touched on Yoshihiro’s transfer. And since his father had been that kind of man, it was understandable he had been associated with a person like Sogo Kumagaya . . .
Suddenly she recalled the scene at the fire when Yoshihiro had embraced her so tightly, as if afraid she might run away. Her instinct had been right—he needed her. After years of loneliness and quiet suffering, at last he had found relief and reassurance in her feminine warmth and softness, her understanding gentleness.
She knew her father had no idea how she felt. That’s why he looked so self-satisfied.
“So far as the dead brother is concerned,” Ogata said, “I know the story isn’t complete, but soon we’ll have the full information. On the last occasion there wasn’t enough time to investigate—Mr. Higuchi could only use his off-duty hours while in Kyoto.”
“Mr. Higuchi?” The mention of the name set off in her an explosion that sent her to her feet. It shattered her previous conclusion that her father’s words had been reasonable. She could see Higuchi now—sitting opposite her in the restaurant, declaring war on Yoshihiro—and felt the blood rush to her neck and cheeks.
Ogata seemed to realize he had made a mistake and looked uncertain for a moment, but soon he regained his composure. He said, “I hope you’re not suggesting Mr. Higuchi has deliberately distorted the facts? He’d be incapable of such meanness, I can assure you. His sole concern is for your—”
“Stop it, father! I’ve had enough of Mr. Higuchi!” Her own shrill voice helped to whip up her anger. “Even if all you’ve said is true, I’m still going to marry Mr. Tsukamoto! Nothing you’ve told me has anything to do with him at all . . . What if his father was an ultra-nationalist? I’m hardly qualified to condemn Mr. Tsukamoto for that. I myself have a father who willingly served the military as a prosecutor during the war.”
“Etsu!” He turned red in the face and the veins began to bulge in his temples, but he managed to control his anger. “You’d better be more careful. You can’t say such things without knowing the actual circumstances. I did all I could at the time to uphold the dignity of the law in the face of absurd demands by the military. But you wouldn’t know this, of course, and I will not tolerate your insolent remarks.”
“Oh, yes,” she said spitefully, “when the war was over, suddenly everybody b
ecame an anti-militarist. They all started talking about democracy, turning up their palms and pretending they knew nothing about the war years. Compared with them, I think Shinnosuke Tsukamoto was an admirable person, even if he was wrong. And who can say he was wrong, anyway?”
Ogata looked weary and very angry. Quietly he said, “Despite all I’ve told you—all I’ve explained to you so clearly—you still go on talking rubbish.”
She babbled on for a while, hardly knowing what she was saying or what she was going to say next. Then she caved in and began to cry, quietly at first but quickly working up into a state of hysteria. And then, amid the harsh sobs, a preposterous idea was born.
She lifted her tear-stained face and said, with sobs in her voice, “Father, it’s no use . . . I can’t marry anyone but him . . . I’m carrying his child.”
“What?” His eyes narrowed. There was a white line around his tight lips. He got up, walked around his desk and slapped her across the face, the force of the blow sending her reeling against the wall. “You fool! I didn’t bring you up for this!”
She was leaning against the wall, holding her face, thinking that her father had never hit her before.
Ogata became deadly pale. Still standing there in front of his desk, he began to tremble. He looked as if he had suddenly aged ten years.
His wife was now by his side, assisting him back to his chair. “I’m sorry, Takuzo,” she whispered. “I should’ve watched her more carefully . . . What can we do now? . . . We’ll have to think about it . . . We must apologize to Mr. Higuchi . . .”
Etsuko walked out of the room. They didn’t try to stop her—just watched her in silent grief.
5
For a moment Yoshihiro was lost for words when he opened his front door and found Etsuko standing there, shivering in her coat, her eyes swollen from crying.
“You? . . . At this time of night, with a face like that? . . . What happened?”
She didn’t answer, and he pulled her inside.
As soon as she had her shoes and coat off she went into his arms and started crying again, her cheek pressed against the thick cloth of his winter kimono.
“Come on, let’s go inside—it’s too cold in here.”
He led her into the Japanese room which looked cosy with the glow of an electric heater in one corner. A desk-lamp threw its light on sheets of paper scattered on the low-slung table, leaving the rest of the room almost in semi-darkness. There was a stack of three or four heavy volumes on the floor between the table and a set of bedding laid out alongside the wall.
“I was about to go to bed with a book,” he said, pointing to the bedclothes on the tatami-covered floor. “The place is in the usual mess.”
She ignored his comments and once more moved into his arms. The tears started rolling down her cheeks again.
“What’s wrong?” Impatiently he took her face into his hands and forced her to look up at him.
“Had a quarrel with my father.”
“Ah. I see.”
Suddenly she put her arms around his neck and said, “Yoshihiro, would you marry me?”
He winced. “Of course I would, but—”
“I told my father a lie. I said I was carrying your child.”
“You what?” He stared at her in disbelief. “But why?”
“I had to do it . . . Will you marry me?”
“I—I’ve been dreaming about it but—”
“Are you worrying about your father and younger brother? Well, don’t—I already know all about them. My father told me the whole story tonight.”
His face stiffened. Gently but firmly he removed her arms from around his neck and made her settle down on a cushion beside the table. He sat down in his usual place.
“Tell me about it,” he said evenly.
Etsuko repeated the whole conversation with her father as faithfully as she could.
He listened without interrupting her. As he lit a cigarette, the flame of the lighter sharpened the concentrated furrows on his face.
When she stopped talking, he said, “I’m sorry . . . I should’ve told you all this, but I didn’t have the courage to do it. I was afraid of losing you—wanted to hold on to you as long as I could. That’s why I kept putting it off . . .”
She reached out and placed her hand over his. He looked at her silently for a while.
“So far as my father’s concerned, there’s nothing more I can add, except that I’ve no interest whatsoever in right-wing politics—or any politics, for that matter . . . Phew. What my brother and I had to go through because of my father . . . Nobumasa swore he’d never have anything to do with ideologies, right or left. That’s why he became a chemist, and that’s why I plunged into business management studies—something that wasn’t tainted with ideologies.”
His face looked handsome with its tight frown, Etsuko thought as she listened to him. Still shaken with the emotional upheaval of the past few hours, she now felt a physical desire for him. As she kept holding his hand, the touch of his fingers began to send waves of reverberating tremors through her. She wanted to be touched by him all over.
“And now I must tell you something more about my younger brother,” he said. “To begin with, all my maternal uncles died in the war. To maintain the family name Yasuda, my mother’s parents formally adopted my brother while still a small child. So he became Tadaaki Yasuda . . . My father’s death in prison was a greater shock to him than to anyone else. Nobumasa and I were already old enough to understand he didn’t die as an ordinary criminal but as a political prisoner. But a boy in the second or third grade of primary school was quite incapable of seeing the difference. It was the beginning of a fundamental change in Tadaaki’s personality . . .”
This time Etsuko listened intently. For the moment she ignored the blind and immediate physical attraction she felt for him. She had been a small girl when the war ended and the wild winds of democratization began to blow. It was quite beyond her to conjure up the boyhood days of Yoshihiro and his brothers.
“It wasn’t so bad while my mother was alive—she encouraged Tadaaki to continue his studies. Gradually things settled down and my father’s disgrace began to fade from people’s memory. Tadaaki entered university. Then my mother suffered a heart attack and died, and at that point my younger brother seemed to change completely.”
Yoshihiro gave a helpless sigh. “I’m no psychologist, so I can’t really explain what went on in his mind. Perhaps the shock of losing his mother, combined with the memory of his father, produced in him a revulsion against a society that was strongly colored by leftist ideals at the time. That’s the only thing I can think of . . . Anyway, we were really surprised by his odd behavior and the little speeches he subjected us to. He defended my father’s theories, only his arguments weren’t based on logic but sprang from his distorted feelings. He began to hang around with members of a notorious right-wing group, and from then on it was a fast downhill ride for him, I’m afraid.”
Etsuko moved her hand till their fingers firmly interlocked. It was strangely thrilling, she thought, sitting here with him in the intimate coziness of this dimly lit room, at this time of night. She felt a warm, enveloping glow.
“Well,” he said, “the rest is rather ugly. Somehow or another Tadaaki managed to get through university, and then got himself a job with a small company. Next thing he helped himself to some company money and ran off with it. On that occasion my elder brother replaced the missing amount and the company didn’t go to the police. But after that Tadaaki couldn’t be helped anymore . . . There was some suggestion he might have got himself mixed up with a mob of smugglers or some other criminal element. We didn’t have any direct evidence of this . . . Then he killed somebody and went into hiding again . . . I don’t know how it happened, or whether the dead man had been a gangster, or belonged to the right-wing extremists . . .”
“At the end of the year before last, I wanted to use my winter holidays to complete my thesis, so I went to stay at a hot spring inn up in the mountains in Tottori Prefecture. But on my third day there, Tadaaki turned up unexpectedly. He said he was broke and sick of hiding. He had called at my flat in Kyoto and was told where I was staying, so he followed me . . . By this time my elder brother wouldn’t have anything to do with him, but I’m not as tough as Nobumasa, and Tadaaki could be very persuasive. I just couldn’t refuse to let him in . . . I tried to convince him he should give himself up to the police and wipe his slate clean. He said he’d think about it during the night, and I felt quite relieved.”
“And that’s when the fire broke out?” She increased the pressure of her hand.
He nodded. “When I woke during the night, the room was already filled with smoke. Half choked and crazed with fear, I rushed out and through the fire—and that’s as far as I can remember. I was in the hospital when I regained consciousness and was immediately aware that I had saved my own skin but left my brother there to burn . . .”
The lost, broken look on his face made her melt with compassion for him. “You’re being unfair to yourself,” she said. “There was hardly enough time to save your own life.”
He shook his head, and his face became more distorted. “I was well aware Tadaaki was in the next room, asleep, dead drunk. I could’ve yelled out to warn him—but I didn’t. The awful thought crossed my mind that a hopeless brother like him was better off dead—that my career was doomed while he was alive . . . As a matter of fact, his very existence had ruined my marriage plans.”
Now she understood his strange behavior during the café fire. It hadn’t only been fear but also a sense of guilt. And she decided he was crazy to blame himself. What he might have thought at the time had nothing to do with the real lack of opportunity to save his brother. Yelling out to him? What difference would that have made amid the roar of the fire, with Tadaaki deep in a drunken sleep? She felt a stir of affection for him so quick and sharp, it made her reach out and take hold of his other hand as well.
Honeymoon to Nowhere Page 7