Tayama Katai and His Novel Entitled Futon/Futon/Chapter 10
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The next morning Tanaka paid a visit to Tokio. Not knowing what had already been decided, he tried to fully explain the reason why it was not suitable for him to return home. As is usually the case with lovers who have given their bodies and souls to each other, Tanaka tried hard not to be separated by any means from his loved one.
A flush of victory rose on Tokio's face.
"No, that problem has already been settled. Yoshiko confessed everything. I realized both of you had deceived me. Now, wasn't your love 'pure'and 'innocent'!"
Tanaka's face suddenly paled. A sense of shame, rage, and desperation clutched at his soul. He was speechless.
"Well, everything is over now." Tokio continued to say, "I can't any longer be involved in your love affair. No! I'm very disgusted. I returned Yoshiko to her father for supervision."
Tanaka sat quietly. One could clearly see the flesh of his pale face trembling with fear. Suddenly bowing, he left Tokio's house, as if he were unwilling to let things stand as they were.
About ten o'clock in the morning Mr. Yokoyama accompanied by Yoshiko came to Tokio's house. Finally they had decided to leave Tokyo on the six o'clock Kobe Express that evening; they wanted only to pick up her personal effects, requesting that Tokio later ship the rest of Yoshiko's luggage to her home. Yoshiko went upstairs to her room, and at once started to pack her belongings. Tokio was still angry but he was in a better mood than yesterday. He felt on the one hand a sense of indescribable loneliness when he considered that he would not be able to see her beautiful expression as they would be separated by a distance of about 500 miles. On the other hand he felt at least relaxed when he thought that he had transferred Yoshiko from the hands of his rival to those of her father. Tokio cheerfully devoted himself by talking on various topics with Mr. Yokoyama. Mr. Yokoyama, as was the case with country gentlemen, had a hobby of collecting art objects. He favored the paintings of Sesshū, Ōkyo, Yōsai, and the calliographies of San'yō, Chikuden, Kaioku, and Sazan; he possessed many hanging scrolls by these artists. Consequently, their talk centered around art objects. Their casual talk about art brightened up the atmosphere of the room for the time being.
Tanaka arrived and asked to see Tokio. Tokio met him in the eight-mat room after closing the sliding door between the eight and six-mat rooms. The old man remained in the six-mat room. Yoshiko was upstairs in her room.
"Is he going home?"
"Yes, in any case he's going home."
"Is Yoshiko-san also going?"
"I imagine so."
"Could you tell me at what time they will be leaving?"
"Unfortunately, at present, I can't tell you that."
"In that case, would I be allowed to see Yoshiko-san--just for a minute?"
"I'm afraid that'll not be possible."
"Where is her father staying? I would like to have his address."
"That's also impossible, as I don't know whether or not they want me to give you their address."
Tanaka was left utterly helpless. He sat there for a while in silence and after bowing he left the house.
Shortly after Tanaka left individual lunch tables were set up in the eight-mat room. Tokio's wife had taken special pains in preparing the food and saké as this was to be a goodbye party. Tokio hoped to dine with them as a token of farewell. Unfortunately, Yoshiko persisted in saying that she did not want to eat. Tokio's wife tried to persuade her to join the party, but she did not come down. Tokio then went upstairs himself.
In her dimly-lit room, where only a shutter facing the east was open, Yoshiko's books, magazines, kimonoes, obis, bottles, a wicker suitcase, and a Chinese trunk were scattered all around leaving no space in which one could step. Yoshiko, whose eyes were swollen from crying, was arranging her baggage. The smell of dust hung in the air stinging the nostrils. How distressing and gloomy was the present situation as compared with the time when she had arrived three years ago in Tokyo full of ardent and youthful hopes. When Tokio thought of Yoshiko's fate of having to return to her home town like this without producing a single item of art worth mentioning, he felt that it was only natural for her to feel unbearably sad.
"Since my wife has specially prepared lunch for you why don't you come and eat? Besides, we'll not be able to eat together for some time,"
"Sensei..." Yoshiko began to weep.
Tokio was also moved. He intensely examined himself as to whether he had done his best for her with kindness and responsibility as her mentor. He too felt forlorn enough to cry. He could find no words to assuage the sorrow of the girl he loved having to return home, there in the dimly-lit room among the scattered wicker suitcases, books, etc. Three rickshaws arrived at the house at three o'clock in the afternoon. The wicker suitcase together with a Chinese trunk and a carry-all that had been placed in the entrance hall were loaded into the vehicles by the rickshawmen. Yoshiko, with eyes puffy from crying, wore a light chestnut colored coat with a white ribbon tied in her hair. Yoshiko firmly held the hands of Tokio's wife, who came out to the gate to see them leave, and said, "Oku-san, goodby. I'll come back, I'll come back, I simply won't stay away."
"Sure, please do, please be sure to come back about a year from now."
Tokio's wife, her eyes filled with tears, squeezed Yoshiko's hands in return. A woman is susceptible and a feeling of compassion filled her heart.
It was a rather chilly winter day. The rickshaws set out from Yashiki-Chō in Ushigome in the following order: In the first was the old man, in the next was Yoshiko, and in the last was Tokio. Tokio's wife and their maid were sorry to see them go and stood at the gate watching the procession slowly fade from view. Behind them stood a neighbor's wife wondering what had caused this sudden departure. Further behind at the corner of a side street stood a man wearing a brown hat. Yoshiko looked back at this man two or three times.
While the rickshaws were proceeding from the street of Kōjimachi to Hibiya, Tokio thought of the girl students of the present day. Yoshiko, who rode in the rickshaw just in front of his, was wearing a "Hill-203" hairdo[1] with a white ribbon and had a slightly stooped figure; there must be many girl students in this same type of outfit and similar situations who are taken back home by their fathers. Even Yoshiko with her strong will had fallen to this fate. No wonder educators talked at great length about the problems of women. Tokio imagined the pains the old man must be feeling, and Yoshiko's tears over her desolated life. Among the passers-by some looked knowingly at the girl student, beautiful as a flower, going along under the watch of her father and a middle-aged man, with a full load of luggage.
After reaching the inn at Kyōbashi, the old man collected his luggage, and paid the bill. This was the same inn that Yoshiko and her father had stayed at three years ago when they first came to Tokyo. Tokio had once paid them a visit at this inn. These three people were full of deep emotions, contrasting the past and present situations, but they each tried to avoid letting them show on their faces. At five in the afternoon, they all left for the Shimbashi Station and entered the second-class waiting room.
Confusion and more confusion, crowds and more crowds, both those who were leaving by train and those who had come to see them off looked absent-minded; and the sounds echoing from the ceiling reached all the louder into the travelers' hearts. Sorrow, joy and curiosity were swirling everywhere in the station. At every moment crowds gathered; the crowd of passengers for the six o'clock evening Kobe Express was especially large, and in no time the second-class waiting room was an arena of jostling elbows. Tokio bought two packages of sandwiches at the Tsuboya upstairs and handed them to Yoshiko. He bought two train tickets and one platform admission ticket. He checked their luggage. Everything was ready, all they had to do was to wait for the time of departure.
All three wondered if they might see Tanaka among this crowd, but they could not spot him.
The bell rang. The crowd rushed towards the ticket gate. It burned with the desire not to lose an instant in boarding, and it fretted, and there was no little confusion. The three barely managed to slip through to the wide platform, then went into the nearest second-class coach.
Passengers continued to get on the train. There was a merchant who was preparing to sleep during the long journey, a field officer who appeared to be returning to Kure, a group of women busily chattering in the broad Ōsaka dialect. Yoshiko's father spread a white blanket lengthwise on the seat on which he and Yoshiko sat, placing his small case between them. An electric lamp in the interior of the coach shone on Yoshiko's face, which glistened as if carved in relief. Mr. Yokoyama came to the window of the coach and several times expressed his great gratitude to Tokio, requesting that he take care of everything that they had left behind in Tokyo. Tokio kept standing near the window of the coach, attired in his silk haori and a brown-felt hat.
The time of departure drew near. Tikio thought of the coming journey and Yoshiko's future. It seemed to him that there was an everlasting bond between Yoshiko and him. No doubt, Tokio would have married Yoshiko if he did not have a wife. Yoshiko might have been willing to become his wife. She would have been able to comfort him in the unbearable agonies of creative writing, helping his literary work and fulfill his ideals. Yoshiko might have been able to comfort his present desolate soul. Tokio recalled Yoshiko's words to his wife, "Why wasn't I born a little earlier? Had I been born in the same period as you, I would have been much happier..." Was it possible that fate would never allow him to call Yoshiko his wife? Would he never be able to call her father his father-in-law? Life is long, fate has strange powers. In view of the fact that she had lost her virginity--after she had broken her chastity, this might make it easier for her to become the wife of a middle-aged man who had many children. Fate and life--Tokio remembered having once lectured to Yoshiko on Turgenev's Punin and Baburin. At long last, the meaning of life described by the great Russian writer came home to him.
Behind Tokio there was a group of well-wishers. Near a pillar stood a man wearing an old felt hat who had come unnoticed onto the platform. Yoshiko recognized him, and her heart began to beat with excitement. Her father looked offended. However, Tokio who was absorbed in daydreaming was unaware that this man was standing behind him.
The conductor blew his whistle for the train's departure.
The train started to pull out of the station.
- ↑ This hair style was named after a decisive land battle that took place on a hill, 203 meters high, during the Russo–Japanese War.