An Evening Tale

"You really can't let your guard down these days. Even Wada knows geisha now."

The lawyer named Fujii drained his cup of shaoxing wine, then swept his eyes grandly over all our faces. Seated around the round table were the six of us, now middle-aged, who had once lived together in the same school dormitory. We were on the second floor of Tototei in Hibiya, on a rainy night in June, and naturally Fujii said this just when the flush of drink was beginning to show on all our faces.

"When I was shown that, I truly couldn't help feeling how times have changed."

Fujii went on, clearly enjoying himself.

"Take Wada from the medical school days. He was a judo champion, leader of the raids on the boarding-house kitchen, an admirer of Livingstone, a man who went through the dead of winter in a single unlined robe. In a word, he was a rough-and-ready hero, wasn't he? And yet here he is, acquainted with a geisha. And not just any geisha, either, but a certain Koen from Yanagibashi..."

"Changed your usual haunts lately, have you?"

The sudden interruption came from Iinuma, a bank branch manager.

"Changed my haunts? Why?"

"It must have been when you took him along that Wada met this geisha, wasn't it?"

"Don't jump to conclusions. Who'd ever take a fellow like Wada along with him?"

Fujii lifted his brows in lofty indignation.

"What day was it last month? Monday or Tuesday, I think. I ran into Wada for the first time in ages, and he said we ought to go to Asakusa. Asakusa doesn't excite me much, but since it was the wish of a dear old friend, I readily agreed. So off we went in broad daylight to the Sixth Ward."

"And you happened to run into her in a movie theater, did you?"

This time I cut in ahead of him.

"A movie theater would have been bad enough. It was a merry-go-round. What's more, the two of us were properly mounted on wooden horses. Even now it seems idiotic when I think of it. But it wasn't my idea. Wada was so keen to ride that I just joined him for company. Still, it isn't exactly pleasant. A weak stomach like Noguchi's had better stay off."

"We're not children. Who on earth rides wooden horses?"

Noguchi, a university professor, spoke with a scornful smile, stuffing his mouth with dark-green preserved pine-flower candy. But Fujii, unconcerned, kept glancing at Wada now and then and went on smugly with his story.

"Wada rode a white horse and I rode a red one, but once the thing started turning to the accompaniment of the band, I thought I was done for. Your backside jolts, your head spins, and you're lucky if you aren't thrown off. Still, what caught my eye amid all that was that among the spectators outside the railing there was a woman who looked like a geisha. Pale face, moist eyes, something strangely melancholy about her..."

"If you could make out that much, your head can't have been spinning all that badly."

Iinuma cut in again.

"That's why I said 'amid all that,' didn't I? Her hair, of course, was done in the ginkgo-leaf style, and she wore a light blue striped serge kimono with, I think, some sort of calico sash. In any case, she stood there looking neat and delicate, like an illustration from one of those geisha novels. Then what do you think happened? The moment she glanced at my face, she gave me a radiant little smile. I thought, 'Oh?' but it was too late. Since I was on a wooden horse, I swept past her in an instant. Just as I was wondering who she could be, the band appeared in front of my red horse once more..."

We all burst out laughing.

"The second time was exactly the same. The woman smiled at me again, and then vanished from sight. After that there was only the up-and-down, front-and-back confusion of wooden horses leaping, carriages bouncing, bugles blaring, and drums pounding. It was then that this thought came to me. This is a symbol of life. We're all mounted on the wooden horses of ordinary existence, so even when we happen upon 'happiness' from time to time, we ride right past it before we can seize it. If you mean to grasp 'happiness,' you'd better leap off your wooden horse in one bold move."

"Surely you didn't actually jump off?"

Kimura, chief engineer at an electrical company, said this in a teasing voice.

"Don't be absurd. Philosophy is philosophy, life is life. Well, while I was thinking these lofty thoughts, around came the third turn. And then I noticed something. It quite shocked me. The woman's smile, regrettably, was not for me. It was for the conqueror of the boarding-house kitchen, the admirer of Livingstone, et cetera, et cetera... Doctor Chohei Wada."

"Still, by your philosophy, it's fortunate you didn't jump off."

Even taciturn Noguchi made a joke, but Fujii, unchanged, was too absorbed in telling his story to mind.

"Whenever Wada came in front of her, he would greet her with obvious delight. And there he was, leaning back awkwardly on his white wooden horse with only his necktie dangling forward..."

"Liar."

At last Wada himself broke his silence. He had been wearing a wry smile all this time and doing nothing but drinking shaoxing wine.

"Why would I lie? But that part was still all right. Once we got off the merry-go-round, Wada seemed to forget all about me and talked to no one but her. She kept saying, 'Doctor, Doctor.' I was the only one left with no role to play."

"This is quite a rare tale indeed. Hey, you, if that's how it is, then tonight's bill is all yours."

As Iinuma thrust a silver spoon into a large bowl of shark-fin soup, he turned toward Wada beside him.

"Nonsense. She's a kept woman of a friend of mine."

Resting on both elbows, Wada said this bluntly. Of all of us, his face was by far the most sunburnt. His features were not in the least urban, and his close-cropped hair looked almost as solid as rock. In his younger days, at one interschool match, he had thrown five opponents even after wrenching his left arm. That old-time air of rugged heroism still clung to him clearly, even though he was dressed in the current fashion of a black coat and striped trousers.

"Iinuma, isn't she your kept woman?"

Looking over his forehead at his friend, Fujii let out the sly smile of a drunken man.

"Could be."

Iinuma coolly let that pass, then turned once more to Wada.

"Who is this friend of yours?"

"A businessman named Wakatsuki. Doesn't anyone here know him? He graduated from Keio or somewhere of that sort, and now works at his own bank. About our age. Fair-skinned, gentle eyes, short beard... yes, in a word, an elegant and thoroughly likable handsome fellow."

"Wakatsuki Minetaro? His pen name is Seigai, isn't it?"

I put in from the side. I had in fact gone to the theater with this businessman Wakatsuki only four or five days earlier.

"That's right. The very man who published a collection called Seigai Haiku. He's Koen's patron. Or rather, he was her patron until about two months ago. Now he's cut things off completely."

"Really? Then this Wakatsuki..."

"Was my classmate in middle school."

"Now things are getting even less tranquil."

Fujii again raised his cheerful voice.

"While we knew nothing of it, you and this old middle-school classmate of yours were busy plucking blossoms and climbing willows..."

"Don't be ridiculous. The only time I met that woman was when she came to the university hospital. Wakatsuki had asked me to look after things a little, so I arranged some conveniences for her. It was an operation for sinus trouble or something of that sort..."

After taking a long swallow of shaoxing wine, Wada's face took on a strangely thoughtful look.

"But she's an interesting woman."

"Fallen for her, have you?"

Kimura teased him quietly.

"Perhaps I did fall for her. Or perhaps I didn't in the least. But what I really want to talk about is her relationship with Wakatsuki."

After this preface, Wada launched into an eloquence unusual for him.

"Just as Fujii said, I happened to run into Koen the other day. But when I spoke with her, she told me she had already broken with Wakatsuki two months before. Even when I asked her why, she never gave me a real answer. She only smiled sadly and said, 'To begin with, I'm not the kind of refined person he is.'

"At the time I did not press the matter and we parted. But then just yesterday, and yesterday afternoon it was raining, wasn't it? Right in the middle of that rain, I got a letter from Wakatsuki asking whether I would come over for dinner. I happened to be free, so I went to his house early. There was the man, as always, reading at his ease in a tasteful little six-mat study. I'm a barbarian, as you see, and know absolutely nothing about refinement. But when I enter Wakatsuki's study, I feel that if there is such a thing as an artistic life, this must be it. In the alcove there is always some old hanging scroll. There are always flowers too. Besides his cases of Japanese books, there are shelves of Western books lined up as well. What's more, beside his delicate little desk, a shamisen is often set out. And Wakatsuki himself, sitting there, somehow looks like a connoisseur from a modern ukiyo-e print. Yesterday too he was wearing some strange garment, so when I asked him what it was, he said it was cham. I have many friends, but other than Wakatsuki I know not a single one who wears a thing called cham. In short, every detail of that man's life is in this same vein.

"As we exchanged cups over the meal that day, Wakatsuki told me the whole story of what had happened with Koen. Koen has another man. That in itself need not be very surprising. But who do you think the fellow is? A low-ranking naniwabushi chanter. Hearing such a thing, you fellows too would be unable not to laugh at Koen's foolishness. As for me, I was so taken aback that I could not even manage a wry smile.

"You may not know it, but for three years now Wakatsuki has done a great deal for Koen. He looked after not only her mother but her younger sister as well. And as for Koen herself, he had her taught whatever she liked, reading and writing, artistic accomplishments, everything. She's even made a name for herself as a dancer. They say her nagauta ranks among the best in Yanagibashi. On top of that, she can compose haiku, and she's also skilled in a certain calligraphic kana style. All of that is thanks to Wakatsuki. Knowing these circumstances, I had all the more reason to be dumbfounded, even more than you would be inclined to find it absurd.

"Wakatsuki said this to me: 'No, I can't say that parting from her troubles me especially. But I did everything I could to educate her. I hoped to make her into a woman of broad taste, one with understanding in all things. That is why this time I was so disappointed. If she was going to take up with another man, why did it have to be a naniwabushi singer? She may have applied herself to the arts with all her heart, but when I think that the vulgarity of her nature cannot be cured, I feel truly bitter about it.'

"And Wakatsuki said this as well: 'For the past half year or so, she had become somewhat hysterical. At one point she would cry like a child almost every day, declaring that from now on she would never touch the shamisen again. And when I asked her the reason, she would launch into strange arguments, saying that I did not love her, that I was only having her study the arts for that very reason. At such times, whatever I said made not the slightest impression on her. She would do nothing but repeat resentfully that I was cold-hearted. Of course, once the fit had passed, it would always become a laughing matter...'

"Wakatsuki also told me this: 'Apparently this naniwabushi singer is a violent brute beyond all help. When a serving girl at a bird shop, with whom he had once been intimate, took up with some man or other, he got into a fight with her and inflicted serious injuries on her. Besides that, I have heard all kinds of ugly rumors about him: that he once tried to force a double suicide, that he ran away with his teacher's daughter, and so on. What on earth can she be thinking, entangling herself with a man like that?'

"I said I could only be appalled by Koen's misconduct. But as I listened to Wakatsuki, what gradually began to move me was sympathy for Koen. Certainly Wakatsuki may be, as a patron, a connoisseur the likes of which are rare these days. But didn't he say that parting from her meant nothing much to him? Even if that was mere politeness, it proves he did not feel any overwhelming attachment. Overwhelming attachment... Why, that naniwabushi singer, for example, is said to have injured a woman badly because he hated her faithlessness. If I put myself in Koen's place, it seems only natural that she should throw herself into the arms of a coarse but passionate naniwabushi singer rather than a refined but cold Wakatsuki. Koen said that Wakatsuki's having her study all those arts was itself proof that he did not love her. I, for one, do not see mere hysteria in those words. Koen knew very well that there was a gap between herself and Wakatsuki.

"Yet I do not mean to congratulate Koen on taking up with the naniwabushi singer. Whether she will be happy or unhappy, no one can say. But if she does become unhappy, the one to curse will not be the man. It will be the connoisseur Wakatsuki Seigai, who brought her to that point. Wakatsuki, or rather all modern connoisseurs, are no doubt lovable people enough when considered as individuals. They understand Basho. They understand Leo Tolstoy. They understand Ike no Taiga. They understand Mushanokoji Saneatsu. They understand Karl Marx. But what of it? They know nothing of passionate love. They know nothing of the exultation of passionate creation. They know nothing of passionate moral fervor. They know nothing of any of the passionate forces that ought to lend majesty to this earth. Therein, I think, lies both their fatal weakness and their poison. One poison works actively: it turns others into connoisseurs too. The second works by reaction: it makes others all the more vulgar. Isn't Koen just such an example? Those who have long been parched will drink even muddy water. If Koen had not been kept by Wakatsuki, perhaps she would never have ended up with a naniwabushi singer.

"And if, on the other hand, she is to be happy... no, perhaps the very fact that she has gained a naniwabushi singer in place of Wakatsuki is itself happiness, true happiness. Didn't Fujii say so a moment ago? We are all mounted alike on the wooden horses of everyday life, so that even when we chance upon 'happiness,' we pass it by before we can seize it. If we mean to grasp 'happiness,' we had better leap off the wooden horse in one bold move. In that sense, Koen too leapt in one bold move from the wooden horse of ordinary life. This fierce joy and pain are beyond the knowing of a refined connoisseur like Wakatsuki. When I think of the value of life, I would rather spit on a hundred Wakatsukis than fail to honor one Koen.

"Don't you all think so?"

Wada's drunken eyes shone as he looked around at the silent company. But Fujii, before anyone had noticed, had already dropped his head onto the round table and was sleeping soundly in complete ease.

(June, 1922)