# Tayama Katai and His Novel Entitled Futon/Futon/Chapter 5

V
The next morning Tokio took Yoshiko to his home. As soon as he was alone with her he was anxious to have an explanation of the previous day; but seeing Yoshiko following him dejectedly with her head down, he felt some pity for her, and walked on in silence holding back his growing irritation.
Tokio and Yoshiko walked up a slope of Sanaizaka; few people were on the street. Tokio suddenly looked back and asked her point-blank,"What's happened since then?"
"What?" Yoshiko replied frowning.
"I'm talking about yesterday's affair. Is he still here?"
"He's going to return home tonight on the six-o'clock express."
"In that case, don't you have to see him off?"
"No, it's all over now."
They stopped talking and went on walking silently.
Tokio's home at Yarai-Chō had two upstairs rooms--a three-mat and a six-mat--that had been used as storerooms; these were cleaned up and made tidy for Yoshiko's use. These rooms had been used a long ​time for storage and children's play rooms, the dust was mountain high. But these rooms took on a surprisingly new appearance after they were cleaned and mopped; the shōji which had been torn and soiled by rain were repapered. The grove of big trees in Sakai graveyard back of the house shaded the rooms with their green leaves. One could see a grape-vine trellis, poppies blooming beautifully mixed with weeds in a neighbor's neglected garden. Tokio selected and hung in the alcove a scroll depicting a morning glory drawn by a certain artist, and placed late summer roses in a hanging vase. In the afternoon Yoshiko's belongings arrived--a big Chinese trunk, a wicker trunk, a cloth holdall, bookcases, a desk, and bedding. It was a hard task to take these articles upstairs. Tokio had to take a day off from his work to help her move.
He placed her desk under the south window, the bookcases to its left; a mirror, a powder plate, and bottles were placed on the desk. He set the China trunk and the wicker trunk in one closet. When he placed a set of futon, made of chintz in an another closet, the lingering smell of Yoshiko entered his nostrils and he felt queer.
About two o'clock in the afternoon her room, for the time being, was put in order.
"What do you think? This place won't be too bad for your study, will it?" Tokio proudly said with a smile. "Stay here, and study diligently. It's really no use getting involved in real-life problems and being needlessly hurt."
"Yes, I believe so. . . ." said Yoshiko looking down.
"Later I'll ask you for details, but in any case both of you have no choice but to study hard for a while."
​"Yes," said Yoshiko raising her head, "Therefore, Sensei, we decided along those lines. At the moment we both will be concentrating on our studies and hope to obtain our parents' approval in the future."
"That's better. If you made too much fuss now, other people and your parents would misunderstand and you would not be able to achieve the earnest desires which are so precious to you."
"That's why, Sensei, I intend to study seriously. Tanaka also said so. He told me he would not excuse himself if he was not able to see you and express his gratitude in person. He asked me to give you his kindest regards."
"There is no need for him to do that."
Tokio felt displeased by her use of the plural "we," and also when he heard her speaking as if they were already betrothed. He wondered how an unmarried girl of only nineteen or twenty was freely using these words as if for the first time. Tokio felt keenly how the times had changed. He realized the difference between the temperament of girl students of today and the disposition of girls of his time when he had fallen in love. Of course, it was true that from the viewpoint of his ideals and taste, he regarded with favor the present temperament of girl students. If a modern girl were educated as in the past, she could not possibly succeed as a wife in the Meiji era. It was his cherished belief that women should also be able to stand on their own two feet and sufficiently cultivate their own will power. He advocated these cherished principles quite often to Yoshiko. But, in spite of his beliefs, when he saw ​the ultramodern actions of this new group, he could not help but frown at their behavior.
A post card bearing a Kōzu cancellation arrived from Tanaka informing her he was en route home and was delivered the next day to Yoshiko by her former landlady at Sanban-Chō. Whenever Yoshiko was called, she came at once from her living room upstairs. They enjoyed her company at their daily meals. At night seated around a bright lamp, they merrily conversed in a lively manner. She knit socks for them. At all times she had a pleasant smile. Having completely taken charge of Yoshiko, Tokio, in any case, felt a sense of relief and satisfaction. His wife, on finding out that Yoshiko now had a lover, was completely relieved of any feelings of danger and anxiety.
Yoshiko could not endure living apart from her lover. She wished that he lived in Tokyo where she could see his face and talk to him from time to time. But she knew that, at this time, it was nearly impossible. She thought that she should concentrate on her studies, supported by an occasional letter from him, until he graduated from Dōshisha in a couple of years. In the afternoons she attended, as before, a certain private school that taught English; Tokio, as usual, went to his office.
In the evening Tokio called Yoshiko from time to time to his study and lectured on literature, novels, and love. And he gave Yoshiko warnings against possible dangers. During his lectures, his manner was unbiased, straightforward, and sympathetic, and no one could ever think of him as a man who had been drunk, slept in a ​lavatory or lay down on the ground. Nevertheless, Tokio's manner was not an intentional act of pretence during his lectures. Whenever he sat facing her, he did his best to court her favor.
And Yoshiko trusted her mentor. She even thought that when the time came for her to divulge her love affair to her parents, she would be satisfied if she could obtain the consent from such a kind mentor even if the old-fashioned ideas of her parents and her modern thoughts collided.
September was over, October set in. A lonely wind was whistling through the forest in back of the house, the color of the sky was deep blue, sunlight penetrated through the crystal clear air, and the evening shadows had begun to become darker. All day long the rain was steadily falling on the few remaining leaves of the sweet potatoes; mushrooms appeared on the greengrocer's shelves. Chirping sounds near his fence died away; the leaves of the paulownia tree in his garden were falling. For one hour in the morning, from nine to ten, he lectured on novels of Turgenev; Yoshiko gave attention to the long, long story of Turgenev's On the Eve while seated sidewise at her desk under her mentor's intense eyes. How much was she moved on hearing of Elena's ardent passion and strong-willed character and of her tragic death! Comparing herself with Elena in the love story, Yoshiko put herself in the heroine's place. The heroine's merciless fate in love, without any possibility of seeing her lover, and the entrusting of her whole life into the hands of a stranger, was exactly the same as Yoshiko's present emotions. She had never dreamed that a post card depicting a lily which she had received unexpectedly at Suma Beach would lead to her present fate.
​Yoshiko reflected upon her fate from various angles while walking towards the forest where it was raining, and the moon was dimly shining. She recalled the night train from Kyoto, the moon at Saga, the evening sunset reflected all over the lake when they stayed at Zeze, and bush clover flowers blooming in profusion as if they were in a picture, in a courtyard of the inn. She thought that their stay of two days was really like a dream. She recollected the time when she was not in love with him, sea bathing in Suma, the moon over the mountains of her home town, and when she thought of the agony of the time before she became ill, her cheeks became flushed for no apparent reason.
Dreams after dreams, and before she knew it her dream turned out to be a long letter and went to Kyoto. Thick letters arrived almost every other day from Kyoto. The affection of these two people for each other which could not be exhausted by any amount of writing--as their letters were too frequent, Tokio waited for a chance when Yoshiko was not at home and, restraining his conscience under the excuse of being her guardian, secretly searched her desk drawers and her letter box and what have you. He glanced very quickly over a couple of her lover's letters that he found.
These letters were full of sweet words as often is the case between lovers. However, Tokio took great pains trying to unearth a certain secret beyond their sweet words. He tried to detect any signs of kissing or sexual desires. He tried to perceive if their relationship had progressed far beyond pure love, but what was not revealed even in their letters was the true fact of their love.
​One month passed without an incident.
Then, one day Tokio received a post card addressed to Yoshiko. It was written in English. On casually reading this post card, he found out that Tanaka was coming with provisions for about one month, and after that he was going to try, one way or another, to find a job in Tokyo to cover living expenses. Tokio's heart pounded. His peace was all of the sudden ruptured.
After supper, Yoshiko was questioned about the post card. Looking embarrassed Yoshiko said, "Sensei, I really don't know what to do; Tanaka says he is coming up to Tokyo. . . . I've told him not to two or three times, but he says that prompted by this recent affair, he is tired of engaging in religion and living under pretence, and nothing is going to keep him from coming up to Tokyo."
"What is he going to do in Tokyo?"
"He wants to study literature."
"Literature? What do you mean 'literature'? Does he want to write a novel?"
"Yes, perhaps so. . . ."
"Ridiculous!" Tokio snapped out in a loud voice.
"I really don't know what to do."
"Didn't you encourage him to do so?"
"Never," she said vigorously shaking her head.
"I never said such a thing to him. The other day I wrote to him, when he mentioned this for the first time, telling him to give up any such idea at least until he graduates from Dōshisha, as under the present circumstances it would be embarrassing for me. ​But he had already made up his mind. . . . He said what had been done could not be undone. . . ."
"why?"
"A Christian named Kōzu got Tanaka a scholarship on behalf of the Kobe Church. Tanaka told this man that since he could not devote himself to religion he wished to make his way in literature in the future, and asked Kōzu to send him to Tokyo. Kōzu got very angry on hearing this, and said, 'If that's the way you want it, do as you please.' So Tanaka made all arrangements to act on his own. . . . I really don't know what to do with him."
"Nonsense!" Tokio said, "Try once more to stop him. Even if he wants to establish himself as a writer, he can't do it; it's only an illusion, one of the worst kinds. And not only that, if Tanaka comes to Tokyo, it'll be exceptionally hard for me to supervise you. Since I'll not be able to take care of you any more, you had better tell him sternly not to come!"
Looking all the more embarrassed, Yoshiko said, "I'll try to stop him, but I fear my letter might miss him. . . ."
"Miss him? You mean, he's already on the way?" Tokio opened his eyes in amazement.
"In his last letter, he said that it would be useless for me to write to him as he would be already en route to Tokyo."
"His last letter? You mean, another one came after the post card?"
Yoshiko nodded.
"Too bad. That's why I always say a young daydreamer is hopeless."
​The peace was again disturbed.