attitude with Sōichi instead of just moping. The reason he behaves badly isn’t that he dislikes you but that you’re too easy with him. I wish you’d give him another chance. But I’m through with him myself and I really don’t have the right to ask you.”
The uncle, who until then had said nothing, announced his opinion. “I strongly believe that you should go back to your husband,” he said.
At this, Kanako’s sister took a firmer stand.
“Yes, Kanako,” she said, “you really can’t continue like this. Each time something goes wrong and you’re unhappy, you slip into this sort of irresponsible talk about separation. After all, marriage is a very different thing from what you find in cinemas and novels.”
“Yes, I know it is,” said Kanako. “But I can’t believe it’s meant to be like ours. My husband has never shown me the slightest appreciation. Never once. And now I suppose he’s got someone else on the side. What a fool I’ve been!”
“But really, Kanako, you should listen to what everyone’s telling you. There’ll always be the time later on to break up the marriage if it turns out to be completely hopeless.”
In the end Kanako was won over by the uncle’s firm attitude and she decided to try again.
A few days later a large photograph of Kanako and her husband arrived at the tea-shop. Sōichi was in uniform; the Order of the White Paulownia and the war medal were neatly pinned to his chest. Kanako had her hair in a marumagé and was wearing a silk kimono with a splashed pattern. Behind them was a Shinto shrine sacred to the spirits of the war dead.
Tokuda Shūsei (1870–1943)
This story was first published in 1935
Translated by Ivan Morris
