# Tayama Katai and His Novel Entitled Futon/Futon/Chapter 4

IV
At his regular hour Tokio returned to Yarai-Chō, in Ushigome.
For three days he had fought with his anguish. He possessed a certain strength which did not permit indulgence. Even though he regretted being controlled by this strength, he eventually gave in to it. On account of this strength he experienced the bitterness of ​being excluded from fortune, but people regarded him as a righteous and trustworthy man. After three days of torture, he knew which way the wind blew. The relationship between Yoshiko and him was finished. From now on, as her teacher, what remained was for him to plan Yoshiko and Tanaka's happy marriage. This was quite unbearable, but such was life! Thinking along these lines, he arrived home.
On opening his gate Tokio's wife came out to greet him. The lingering heat was still unbearable, his underwear was soaked. He changed into a starched plain summer kimono, and sat in front of the hibachi in the living room, when his wife, as if by chance, suddenly remembered taking a letter off the wardrobe and said, "A letter from Yoshiko-san." She gave him the letter.
Hurriedly he opened the letter. Judging from the thickness of the roll, he thought that this must be something to do with her recent affair. Tokio read it carefully to its end without pausing.
The letter was skillfully written in colloquial style.
   To be frank with you, I had intended to discuss this with you, but since it was so urgent I took the matter into my own hands.
   I hope you understand how shocked I was when I received a telegram from Tanaka at four o'clock yesterday of his arrival at six o'clock at Shimbashi Station.
   As I had trusted that he was not such a thoughtless person who would pay me a visit for no valid reason, I was all the more worried. Sensei, please forgive me. I went ​to meet him. Having talked with him, I found that after reading my letter in which I gave him full particulars of what had happened he became exceptionally worried that if I was forced to return home because of our affair, he would not be able to forgive himself, and forsaking his studies came to Tokyo. He said that his purpose was to confess to you frankly our relationship, apologize, throw ourselves on your mercy, and ask your help to bring everything to a satisfactory conclusion. In return, I told him in detail what I had explained to you, about your kindness, that you would be ready to stand as a witness to our later marriage, as well as acting as our guardian in the coming years. He was deeply grateful for your kindness and shed tears of gratitude.
   Tanaka seemed to be so alarmed by my flustered letter that he came expecting the worst. If the worst should happen, he planned to ask a friend who went with us to Saga to certify as to our unstained relationship; in addition, I confided to you our mutual love which we both felt after parting, and appealed that you inform my parents back home in detail that we wanted to marry. But, how could I dare ask further favors, as I had recently hurt their feelings by my reckless conduct.
   We agreed to keep silent for a time, concentrating on our studies, taking hope in each other and waiting for a chance--it might be five or as many as ten years--then open our hearts to my parents. I told Tanaka of your advice. And...since we had settled on our future plans, I knew it was ​best to send him home, but, seeing how exhausted he was, I had no heart to send him home right away. (Please forgive my weakness.) Although I intended to abide by your advice that during my studies, I should not experiment with my ideas dealing with love, I suggested, without thinking, that he stay for one day at an inn, and go sightseeing, as he was a stranger in Tokyo. Sensei, please forgive me. Although we are now in the throes of passion, as we are endowed with reason, we will not repeat our conduct which lacked common sense as in Kyoto causing misunderstandings. Upon my oath, this will never happen again.
   Kindest regards to your wife.
   Respectfully yours,
   Yoshiko
During the reading of this letter, he was filled with mixed emotions, and felt as if a burning fire were passing through his mind. Tanaka, a young man of twenty-one, was actually in Tokyo. Yoshiko met him. Who knows what they did. What she recently said to me might have been complete lies. They might already have had relations when they met at Suma on their summer vacation. Was not their conduct in Kyoto to satisfy their desires? Was not Tanaka's present behavior due to his longing to see her resulting in his following her to Tokyo? He might have clasped her hands and embraced her. What they did upstairs in an inn, under no supervision, was anyone's guess. Whether she was soiled or not was in doubt. While thinking of these things, ​Tokio became unable to control himself and cried out in his mind, "This whole affair is related to my responsibility as her teacher!" He thought that he could not let matters stand as they were. He could not give such freedom to a woman who was so changeable. He must supervise and protect her. Her letter said that both of them were passionate but had reason. What did she mean by the words "both of us"? Why didn't she write "I"? Why did she use the plural? Tokio's heart beat with excitement. It was six o'clock yesterday when the young man arrived; if Tokio wanted he could go to his sister-in-law's house to find out what time last night Yoshiko returned home; but he wondered what she was doing today, or what she was doing at the moment.
At the dinner table, he found fresh sliced raw tunny together with cold bean-curds spiced with beefsteak plant, which his wife had carefully prepared, but he did not enjoy them, instead he drank cup after cup of saké.
After putting their youngest child to bed, his wife sat down in front of the hibachi. When she saw Yoshiko's letter by her husband's side, she said to him, "What did Yoshiko-san say?"
Tokio, without replying, threw her the letter. While receiving the letter, she threw him a searching glance realizing that her husband's mood was taxed, like the calm before a storm.
She finished reading the letter. Rolling it up, she said, "He came here didn't he?"
"Um. . . ."
"Will he stay in Tokyo for a long time?"
​"Didn't she say in her letter that she would have him leave right away?"
"Will he go home?"
"Who knows!"
At the severe tone of her husband's voice, she kept quiet. After a while, she said, "That's why I really dislike a young woman wanting to become a novelist. Not only the person wishing to become a novelist, but also the parents who sent her are disgusting."
"Still, I bet you're relieved," he was about to say to his wife, but stopped, and instead said, "Well, anyway that doesn't matter. In any case you would not understand. . . .Instead of talking, how about serving saké."
His obedient wife picked up a saké bottle and poured the saké into a ceramic saké cup filling it to the brim.
Tokio drank saké continuously, as if without saké he could not be relieved of his worry. At his request for the third bottle, his wife became anxious and said, "What has happened to you recently?"
"Why?"
"You have been drinking too much."
"What's wrong with drinking too much?"
"Because you have something to worry about, haven't you? You have no need to worry about Yoshiko-san, or do you?"
"Nonsense!" Tokio scolded her, but his wife was not put off and said, "But if you drink too much it will harm you. It's time you stop. If you go into the lavatory and again go to sleep there, because you are so heavy, two of us, O-Tsuru (the servant) and I, will not be able to help you."
​"Let's forget it, and let me have another bottle."
And...he drank half of that bottle. The liquor seemed to show its effects. His face took on a red-copper color, and his eyes became slightly set. He suddenly stood up and said, "Hey, bring me an obi!"
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going to Sanban-Chō."
"To my sister's house?"
"Um. . . ."
"You better not go, as you're in no shape. . . ."
"Never mind, I'm all right. Being entrusted with someone's daughter, I can't neglect the situation. How can I remain indifferent, when her sweetheart comes to Tokyo, goes around doing something with her. Since I can't feel easy about leaving her in the care of Tagawa (his sister-in-law), I'm going there, and if possible, I'll return with Yoshiko. You'd better clean up the upstairs rooms."
"Are you going to have her with us again?"
"Of course."
As his wife was not willing to prepare his kimono and obi he said, "All right, all right, if you don't want to do it, I'll go out as I am."
He quickly went out as he was, wearing a white plain summer kimono with a soiled crepe silk sash around his waist, and without a hat. His wife's voice could be heard trailing after him, "I'll be ready in a minute. . . . Really I don't know what to do with you."
The summer day's sunset was already approaching. Chirping could be heard in Sakai's Grove in Yarai. Supper seemed to be over ​in every household, and the white painted faces of the young daughters could be seen at the entrances of their houses. There were boys throwing balls. He encountered several couples, the gentlemen with thin moustaches who seemed to be government officials, accompanied by their young wives, wearing modern hairdoes, were strolling towards Kagurazaka.
As Tokio was affected by an angered mind and a drunken body, everything around him seemed to be of another world. He also felt that the houses standing on both sides of the road were in motion, the ground seemed to be sinking under his feet, and the skies over his head seemed to engulf him. He was, by nature, not a heavy drinker but as he had drunk saké recklessly, the liquor, at once, began to show its effects. He suddenly recalled the low-class Russians who were affected by liquor, falling down and sleeping by the roadside. And he recalled having discussed with a friend that the Russians were great because if they wanted to practice indulgencies, they really did so to the limit. "Nonsense! How can love discriminate between a mentor and his pupil!" These words slipped out his mouth.
When he walked up Nakanezaka, and came to Sanaizaka at the rear of the military officers' school, night had fallen. A large number of people passed by wearing light-colored kimonoes. A young wife was standing in front of a tobacco shop. The curtains of an ice shop were fluttering in the cool evening breeze. While Tokio was looking with bleary eyes at the summer evening scene, he sometimes hit a telegraph pole and nearly fell down; sometimes he fell ​into a ditch and hurt his knee-caps, and was abused by factory workers who said, "Drunkard! Walk steadily!" Suddenly regaining his consciousness, he turned to the right at the top of the slope and entered the precincts of the Hachiman Shrine in Ichigatani. No one was in the desolate compound. A big zelkova tree and some pine trees overlapped each other. In the left-hand corner of the compound, there was a large and dense coral tree. All-night lamps, placed here and there, began slowly to burn. As Tokio felt difficulty in breathing, he suddenly hid himself under the coral tree, lying down on the ground by its roots. His excited mental condition, the pleasant sensations of uncontrollable passion and sadness, were developed to their fullest limits; he was on the one hand carried away by the anxiety of keen jealousy and on the other hand, he calmly observed his own condition.
Of course he did not have such an ardent passion as he had experienced in his first love affair. He was able to reflect, at this time, on himself rather than resigning himself to fate. His mental condition had a kind of strangeness, tied firmly with twisted threads of passion of ardent subjectivity and criticism of cold objectivity.
Sad, very sad. This sadness was not the type experienced by youth, nor merely, sadness of love between men and women, but it was the profound sadness which lay hidden in the depths of human life. The flow of running waters, the falling of blooming flowers--when one realized the irresistible power that lurked at. the innermost depth of nature, nothing was so ephemeral as human beings.
Tears flowed down his unshaven face.
​Suddenly, something entered his mind. Tokio stood up and began to walk. Night had fallen. All-night lamps, placed here and there, in the compound, shed their light, and he could clearly read on the surface the three characters for "All night light" written on them. These characters "All night light" moved him indescribably. Hadn't he once been deeply agonized on seeing these three characters? When his wife was still wearing the maidenly momoware coiffure and lived in the house just below the shrine, he used to climb the small hill to this Hachiman Shrine hoping to hear, however faintly, the delicate sound of her koto. With his ardent passion, if he had not married her he would rather travel around in the colonies of the South Seas, and thus he used to ponder gazing at the shrine gate, the long stone stairway, the main shrine building, the hanging lanterns on which the haiku poem was inscribed and these three words "All night light." Below the shrine compound, his wife's home was still there as in the past; its windows were brightly lit, even though occasional sounds of streetcars now broke the silence. What a faithless mind was his! Who knows how he has quite changed during a period of only eight years? He could not understand why their happy life had been changed to such a recent dreary life, nor how it came about that he began to desire a new love. Tokio realized the fearfulness of the power of time. Yet, incredibly the present realities in his heart remained unshaken.
"I can't help it if I'm inconsistent, unfaithful, so what! It's the reality, it's real!" he repeated in his mind.
​Tokio again prostrated his lanky body on a nearby public bench as if oppressed by the unbearable power of nature. When Tokio looked up he saw that a big dimly-lit moon of red-copperish color had risen over the pine trees by the moat of the shrine. Its color, its shape seemed very lonely. When Tokio thought its isolation was well matched with his own present loneliness, once again unbearable grief filled his mind.
He was now sober. The evening dew had begun to form.
He arrived in front of his sister-in-law's house at Sanban-Chō in Dote.
He peeped in but he could not see any light in Yoshiko's room. It seemed that she had not yet come home. Tokio's brain was again on fire. On this night, this dark night with her sweetheart, just the two of them! Who could tell what they were doing? What did she mean by daring to act like this, their action lacked common sense, yet she insisted that their love was untainted. What rights did they have to defend their unblemished behavior?
He thought of entering the house without wasting any time, but believing that it was useless since Yoshiko had not returned home, he passed on by the house. Each time he passed a woman, he carefully scanned her face to see if it was Yoshiko. He prowled around the dike, through the pine trees, and the corners of the main street so much that he aroused the suspicions of passers-by. It was nearly nine o'clock. No, close to ten. Say what one would about it being a summer night, there was no reason for her to be walking around so late. Thinking it was about time she should have been home, Tokio turned ​back to his sister-in-law's house, but Yoshiko had not yet returned.
Tokio entered the house.
As soon as he entered the inner six-mat room, he called out, "What's happened to Yoshiko-san?"
So surprised to see that Tokio's kimono was badly soiled with mud, his sister-in-law was unable to answer his question right away, and said, "Oh! Goodness gracious! What happened to you, Tokio-san?"
Sure enough, upon a closer look under a bright light, mud was everywhere on his plain white kimono from his shoulders to his waist, and down to his knees.
"Nothing, I just stumbled there. . . ."
"But, you've got mud all the way to your shoulders! You're drunk again, aren't you?"
"Never mind," Tokio smiled and thus evaded replying.
Then, wasting no time he said to her, "Where did Yoshi-san go?"
"This morning, she went out saying she was going to take a walk to Nakano with a friend, and hasn't been back since. She should soon be back. Do you have something in particular that you want to talk to her about?"
"Yes, something. . . . Did she get home late yesterday?"
"No, she said she was going to meet a friend at Shimbashi Station and left the house after four and got back about eight."
Watching Tokio's face she said, "Is something wrong?"
"No. But sister. . . ." Tokio's voice became formal. "To be frank, if I leave Yoshiko under your care and something like her recent affair in Kyoto should happen again, I would be embarrassed; I'm thinking of keeping Yoshiko in my house so that I can ​completely supervise her conduct."
"Oh? That's a good idea. To tell the truth, since Yoshiko-san is such a strong minded person, an uneducated person like me can't...."
"No, I didn't mean that. I don't think it'll be good for her, if I let her have too much freedom; therefore, I'm going to carefully control her behavior by letting her stay in my house."
"That's will be better. For Yoshiko-san, too. . . . she has nothing unusual for these times, and she has no particular faults, but the only thing wrong with her is that she goes around casually strolling with her boy friends in the evening. I keep telling her, 'If you would just stop doing this one thing. . . .' At which Yoshiko-san always starts to laugh and says, ‘Here we go again with your quaint ideas.' The other day I heard that a plain-clothes policeman from the police station at our corner got suspicious of her and her boy friend's behavior because they were so frequently walking around the neighborhood and stood watching in front of our house. Of course, since she has done nothing wrong, it doesn't matter."
"When was that?"
"I believe it was towards the end of last year."
"It's too bad she has to be so untraditional," Tokio said.
Looking at the hands of the clock which pointed to half-past ten, he continued, "I wonder what's the matter? Such a young woman to be walking around alone so late."
"She will be back soon."
"Does this sort of thing happen very often?"
"No, it seldom happens. It's a summer night, she probably thinks it's still early evening."
​His sister-in-law did not stop sewing while talking to him. There was a big board made of ginko wood in front of her, with pieces of silk cloth, threads, and a pair of scissors that were scattered around in a disorderly manner on it. The mid-september night had grown late, it was somewhat chilly; a terrific vibrating sound was heard when a freight train of the Kobu Line passed along the dike back of the house.
Each time he heard the sound of wooden clogs he hoped that this time it would be her! Soon after the clock had struck eleven, he heard quick light steps echoing from a distance in the quiet night.
"Surely, this time, it must be Yoshiko-san," his sister-in-law said.
Indeed the footsteps stopped in front of the house, and the lattice door was opened with a rattling sound.
"Yoshiko-san?"
"Yes," her charming voice replied.
A beautiful figure wearing an uplifted hairdo slipped into the room from the entrance hall.
"Oh, my! Sensei!" she said. Her voice contained mixed feelings of surprise and embarrassment.
"I am sorry, I am so late," she said, coming to the threshold between the inner drawing room and the living room. She bent down slightly to glance quickly at Tokio's countenance and then immediately she pulled out something that was bundled up in a purple crepe wrapper, and slid it without speaking towards her landlady.
​"What's this, a present? You shouldn't have done that."
"Don't mention it, as I'm going to eat some with you," Yoshiko said cheerfully. Then, as she started to go into the next room Tokio told her to sit down in a corner of the living room under a dazzling bright light. With her beautiful figure, fashionable hairdo, pretty flannel kimono with an olive-colored summer obi which was tied in an appealing shape, and seated slightly sideways--she was indeed charming. Seated facing her, Tokio felt indescribable satisfaction and almost forgot the worries and pains which had, up to now, occupied his mind. It is always the state of mind of one who loves that provided he could only capture his loved one, he would be satisfied even if he had a powerful enemy.
"I'm sorry about coming home so late," she apologized to him awkwardly.
"I hear that you strolled over to Nakano, is that so?" Tokio asked her abruptly.
"Yes. . . ." Yoshiko again quickly tried to read Tokio's expression.
His sister-in-law served them tea. Opening the present, she found some of the cream cakes which she liked so much. "Oh! my! How delicious they are," she joyfully said. For a time everyone's attention was diverted to the objects of her remark.
After a while Yoshiko said, "Sensei, were you waiting for me to come home?"
"Yes, yes, he has been waiting for you for about an hour and a half," replied her landlady, who was seated alongside of Yoshiko.
​And then, he brought the matter up. He said that he came with the intention of taking her to his home that very night, if it was convenient for her--her luggage could be sent later. Yoshiko listened to what he had to say nodding her head. Without doubt she must have felt a sense of oppression in her heart but consciously in her mind, she did not feel any particular suffering in returning to his home--she trusted him absolutely, as he had shown whole-hearted sympathy for her in her recent love affair. To tell the truth, she had felt for some time discomforts in living with her landlady in this type of old-fashioned house, and she had been hoping if possible to return and live as previously in her mentor's house; she would have been overjoyed with his suggestion under different circumstances. . . .
Tokio was impatient to inquire about her lover. Where was he now? When would he return to Kyoto? These inquiries were indeed matters of great concern for Tokio. But, as he could not ask her frankly in front of his sister-in-law, who did not know anything about the situation, he could not say a word about these things that night. They talked about routine topics until late in the night.
Tokio wanted to go home that night but his sister-in-law suggested that as it was already midnight it would be better to take her home the following day. And, although he wanted to go home alone to Ushigome that night, feeling somewhat uneasy he decided to make an excuse of the late hour, and stay overnight at her house leaving with Yoshiko early the next morning.
​Tokio spread his bedding beside that of his sister-in-law in the six-mat room; Yoshiko slept in her eight-mat room. In a short while he heard his sister-in-law faintly snoring. The clock audibly struck one o'clock. He heard occasionally from the eight-mat room a deep sigh indicating Yoshiko was unable to fall asleep. A freight train of the Kōbu Line passed by with a terrific rumbling sound. Tokio could not sleep either.