Kusamakura

Stil submissive, I return to the clump of japonica, put on my hat, retrieve my painting equipment, and set off to walk beside her.

“Did you paint anything?â€

“No, I gave up.â€

“You haven’t painted a single picture since you’ve been here, have you?â€

“That’s so, yes.â€

“But surely it’s odd coming here special y to paint and then producing nothing?â€

“There are no odds about it.â€

“Real y? Why not?â€

“What’s the odds whether I paint a picture or not, after al ?â€

“That’s a pun, isn’t it.†She laughs. “You’re very nonchalant, I must say.â€

“What’s the point of coming to a place like this if you’re not going to be nonchalant?â€

“Oh, come now. No matter what place you’re in, being alive has no point unless you’re nonchalant. Look at me, I’m not at al embarrassed to have been seen as you saw me back there.â€

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, surely.â€

“You think so? So who do you imagine that man was?â€

“Hmm. Wel , he certainly isn’t someone with a lot of money.â€

She laughs again. “A good guess. You’re a master of insight, aren’t you! Actual y, he has so little money he can’t stay in the country, and he came to get some money from me.â€

“Real y? Where did he come from?â€

“He came from the town down there.â€

“That’s a long way. And where is he going?â€

“Wel , it seems he’s going to Manchuria.â€

“What wil he do there?â€

“What wil he do there? I don’t know, he may make some money, or he may die.â€

I raise my eyes to look at her. The little smile that has been hovering on her lips is rapidly disappearing. I can’t guess the meaning of her words.

“That man is my husband.â€

Quick as a flash, she has landed me a slashing blow! I’m utterly caught by surprise. I had of course had no intention of asking who he was; nor had I expected her to expose herself to me like this.

“How was that? Did I surprise you?†she said.

“Yes, you did a bit.â€

“He’s not my present husband. He’s the one I had to sever relations with.â€

“I see. So . . .â€

“So nothing. That’s al .â€

“I see. . . . That fine white-wal ed house over there in the mandarin orchard, it’s in a nice place, isn’t it? Whose house is it?â€

“That’s my older brother’s house. Let’s cal there on the way home.â€

“Do you have some business there?â€

“Yes, he’s asked me to do something.â€

“I’l come with you, then.â€

When we reach the beginning of the path down the mountainside, we don’t descend but turn right and, after a climb of a little over a hundred yards, arrive at the front gate of the house. Rather than proceeding straight to the entrance, we go to the garden at one side. Nami strides boldly along, so I fol ow suit. Three or four palms stand in the south-facing garden. Immediately beyond the earth wal , the mandarin orchard begins.

Without preliminaries, Nami seats herself on the edge of the veranda and remarks, “It’s a fine view. Look.â€

“Yes, it certainly is.â€

Behind the sliding doors to the house, al is quiet. Nothing suggests anyone is home. Nami shows no sign of cal ing on anyone. She simply sits at her ease, gazing down at the slope of mandarin orchard beyond. I feel rather puzzled. What business has actual y brought her here?

Our conversation has petered out, and we sit on in silence, looking at the mandarin trees. The noonday sun floods the mountain with its warm rays, and the mandarin leaves that fil our vision seem to steam and glitter. After a while a cock crows loudly in the barn behind the house.

“Good heavens, it’s noon!†Nami exclaims. “I was forgetting what I had to do. Kyuichi! Kyuichi!†She reaches over and slides open the door with a slight clatter. I can see a large empty room; a pair of scrol s in the style of the Kano School hang somehow mournful y in the alcove.4 “KyÅ«ichi!â€

At last an answering voice is heard from the barn. The approaching steps pause behind the sliding door. It opens, and in an instant the dagger in its white wooden sheath is tumbling over the matting.

“A farewel gift from your uncle for you!†Nami announces.

I had no inkling of the moment when her hand went to her waistband. The dagger somersaults two or three times, then slides smoothly across the matting to Kyuichi’s feet. It has slipped a little from the loose sheath, to reveal an inch or so of cold glinting steel.

CHAPTER 13

It is the day of Kyuichi’s departure. We are accompanying him by boat down the river as far as Yoshida Station. Besides Kyuichi, our boat contains Mr. Shioda, Nami, her brother, Genbei, and myself, of course merely in the capacity of invitee.

I am happy to go along as “inviteeâ€â€”indeed, I am happy to go along without puzzling over reasons and roles at al . Prudence, after al , can play no part in the “nonemotional†journey.

Our boat is a flat-bottomed one, rather like a raft with sides added. The old man is seated in the middle, Nami and myself in the stern, and Kyuichi and Nami’s brother in the bow. Genbei sits apart, looking after the luggage.

“KyÅ«ichi, how do you feel about war?†Nami inquires. “Do you like it?â€

“I won’t know til I’m in it. There’l be suffering, I should think, but perhaps there’l be pleasures too†is his innocent reply.

“No matter the suffering,†the old gentleman remarks, “it’s for the sake of the nation.â€

Nami’s next question is equal y odd. “Surely you’re inclined to go to war and see what it’s al about, now that you’ve been given a dagger?â€

“Yes, I guess so,†Kyuichi responds with a light nod. The old gentleman laughs and tugs at his beard. His son pretends to have heard nothing.

Nami now abruptly thrusts her pale face close to Kyuichi and demands, “How are you going to be able to fight with that sort of nonchalant attitude?â€

“You’d make a fine soldier, Nami,†says her brother. These are the first words he has spoken to her. His tone indicates that the remark is not intended as a joke.

“Me? Me, a soldier? If I could become a soldier, I’d have done it long ago. I’d be dead by now. Kyuichi, you must die too. You’l lose your honor if you come home alive.â€

“Good heavens, hold your tongue!†exclaims her father. “No, no, you must return in triumph. Death is not the only way to serve one’s nation. I plan to live a couple of years yet. We’l be able to meet again.†The old man’s last drawn-out words tremble and are lost in tears; only the imperative of manliness prevents him from spil ing al that is in his heart. Kyuichi says nothing but simply sits with his head turned aside, looking at the riverbank.

There’s a large wil ow on the bank, and beneath it sits a man in a little boat moored to the tree, staring at his fishing line. As our boat goes by, trailing its rocking wake, the man glances up, and his eyes meet Kyuichi’s. No acknowledging charge flows between the two. The man’s mind is focused on his fishing, while Kyuichi’s busy thoughts have no space for so much as a single fish. Our boat floats calmly on past the unknown fisherman.