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Kuroda Ken'ichiro — twenty-eight years old

His younger brother, Shinjiro — twenty-three years old

Their younger sister, Otane — twenty years old

Their mother, Otaka — fifty-one years old

Their father, Sotaro

Time

Around the fortieth year of Meiji

Place

A small coastal town on the Nankaido

Setting: A modest middle-class home; a six-mat room with a chest of drawers against the far wall, an alarm clock resting on top of it.

In front stands a long brazier, steam rising from the kettle.

A low dining table has been set out.

Ken'ichiro, having apparently just returned from the office and changed into Japanese dress, sits at ease reading a newspaper.

The mother, Otaka, is doing needlework.

It is nearly seven in the evening; outside it is dark — the beginning of October.

Ken'ichiro: Mother, where has Otane gone?

Mother: She went to deliver some sewing.

Ken'ichiro: She's still doing sewing work?

She doesn't need to keep doing other people's work anymore.

Mother: That she doesn't, but when she marries she'll want to bring along as many good kimonos as she can, I suppose.

Ken'ichiro: (turning the newspaper over) What became of that prospect we were talking about the other day?

Mother: Tane doesn't quite fancy him, I think.

Their side was pressing eagerly for it, but there you are.

Ken'ichiro: They say the man has property — it seems like a fine match.

Mother: But once you start spending it, ten or twenty thousand won't go very far.

In this house too, when I married into the family there were public bonds and land worth two or three thousand yen, but once Father took to his pleasures and started spending, it vanished like shaking chaff from a bamboo branch.

Ken'ichiro: (silent, as though an unpleasant memory has been stirred) ……

Mother: I have had quite enough of that myself, so for Tane I mean to find a man of good character rather than good fortune.

Even without property, if a husband is upright in his ways, one can get through life without hardship.

Ken'ichiro: If he has property and good character both, that would be even better, surely.

Mother: Can one really hope for such a thing?

However lovely Otane may be, there is no money in this house.

These days, even with a little trousseau prepared, three or five hundred yen goes in an instant.

Ken'ichiro: Otane suffered greatly as a child on account of Father — the least we can do is give her a proper trousseau.

When our savings reach a thousand yen, I'm willing to give half to her.

Mother: You needn't go that far — three hundred yen would do nicely.

After that, if you take a wife as well, I can rest easy.

Everyone tells me I had ill luck in a husband but good luck in my children.

When Father walked out, I didn't know what we'd do……

Ken'ichiro: (changing the subject) Shin is awfully late tonight.

Mother: He's on duty overnight, so he'll be late.

Shin said his pay goes up again this month.

Ken'ichiro: Is that so?

He was so capable in middle school — it must gall him to be just a primary school teacher, but as long as he keeps studying on his own there's no limit to how far he can rise.

Mother: I've been looking for a wife for you too, but nothing suitable has come up.

Sonoda's daughter would do well, but their family may consider themselves a step above and refuse.

Ken'ichiro: Another two or three years will be time enough.

Mother: But once Otane is sent off, you really must marry.

Then everything will be settled.

When Father absconded, I held three small children and didn't know what I would do……

Ken'ichiro: It does no good to keep speaking of the past.

(The front lattice door opens and Shinjiro comes home.

He is a handsome young man who is a primary school teacher.)

Shinjiro: I'm home.

Mother: Ah, welcome back.

Ken'ichiro: You're very late tonight.

Shinjiro: I had a mountain of papers to mark today — it was exhausting.

My shoulders are stiff.

Mother: I've been waiting to start supper since a while ago.

Ken'ichiro: After supper you should go to the bath house.

Shinjiro: (changing into Japanese dress) Mother, where is Tane?

Mother: She's gone to deliver some sewing.

Shinjiro: (settling comfortably into his Japanese clothes) Brother!

I heard a strange rumor today.

Principal Sugita says he saw a man in Furushimmachi who looked very much like our father.

Mother and brother: Hmm.

Shinjiro: Mr. Sugita was walking along the row of inns in Furushimmachi when he noticed an old man of about sixty walking ahead of him.

He looked carefully and felt he had seen the man somewhere before; drawing closer and catching his profile, he thought the man resembled our father.

He seemed quite like Sotaro-san — and if it were Sotaro-san there would be a mole on his right cheek, so Sugita decided he would call out if he spotted a mole; but just as he was moving closer, the man slipped furtively into the alley beside the Suijin shrine.

Mother: Mr. Sugita was a childhood friend of Father's — they even practiced spear-fighting together — so he wouldn't mistake him for someone else.

But it's been twenty years now, hasn't it.

Shinjiro: Mr. Sugita said the same.

He said that after twenty years without meeting, he couldn't be certain, but since Sotaro-san was someone he had known from childhood, he couldn't say he'd been entirely mistaken either.

Ken'ichiro: (his eyes brightening with unease) So Mr. Sugita didn't speak to the man?

Shinjiro: He intended to identify himself if there was a mole, he said.

Mother: Oh, it must be a mistake on Mr. Sugita's part.

If he'd come back to the same town, he wouldn't fail to come to the house where he was born.

Ken'ichiro: But Father wouldn't easily be able to cross our threshold.

Mother: I think of him as dead already — it's been twenty years since he left.

Shinjiro: Didn't someone say they'd seen him in Okayama once?

Mother: That was already ten years ago.

When Chuta from the Kubos went to Okayama, Father was apparently running a traveling show with lions and tigers and other animals; he called Chuta to a restaurant, treated him to a meal, and asked after things at home.

At the time he was apparently in fine spirits, a gold watch slung on his sash, dressed head to toe in silk.

Since then there has been no word at all.

That was the year after the war, so it must be twelve or thirteen years now.

Shinjiro: Father was quite the unusual character, wasn't he.

Mother: From his youth he never applied himself to steady work — he was always drawn to adventurous schemes.

Those debts weren't all from simple self-indulgence either.

He lost money trying to sell some patent medicine to China.

Ken'ichiro: (with a somewhat displeased expression) Mother, let's eat.

Mother: Oh yes, yes.

I quite forgot.

(She rises and goes toward the kitchen; her figure disappears from view.) What Sugita-san thought he saw must be some mistake.

If he were alive, at his age he'd at least send a postcard.

Ken'ichiro: (with some gravity) When did Mr. Sugita encounter this man?

Shinjiro: Around nine o'clock last evening, he said.

Ken'ichiro: What sort of clothes was he wearing?

Shinjiro: Apparently not very fine ones.

He wasn't even wearing a haori, it seems.

Ken'ichiro: I see.

Shinjiro: What do you remember of Father's appearance, Brother?

Ken'ichiro: I don't remember him.

Shinjiro: Surely that can't be so.

You were eight years old.

Even I have a vague memory.

Ken'ichiro: I don't remember him.

I once did, but I worked hard to forget.

Shinjiro: Mr. Sugita often talks about Father, you know.

They say Father was quite a handsome man in his youth.

Mother: (carrying food from the kitchen) Yes, Father was known as a fine-looking man.

When Father served as a page to the lord, there is a story that a court lady sent him a love poem tucked inside a chopstick box.

Shinjiro: Now why would she give him a chopstick box? Ha ha ha ha.

Mother: He was born in the year of the ox, so this year he'd be fifty-eight.

If he had stayed home quietly, he would be enjoying a comfortable retirement by now.

(The three sit down to eat.)

Mother: Tane should be back soon.

It has grown noticeably cold.

Shinjiro: Mother, today at the hackberry tree of Jogan-ji temple, a shrike was calling.

Autumn is here already. ……

Brother, I've decided after all to sit for the English certification exam.

There's no good teacher for mathematics.

Ken'ichiro: That seems fine.

Will you go to Mr. Erekuson's again?

Shinjiro: That's what I'm thinking of doing.

Since he's a missionary there's no tuition fee.

Ken'ichiro: Yes — whatever you do, give it everything you have. Study to show that even without the help of a father, a man can become a full member of society.

I had hoped to take the higher civil service examination myself, but the rules changed and now one must have graduated middle school to sit for it, so I've given up on that.

You have your middle school diploma, so you must give it your best.

(At this moment the lattice door opens and Otane comes home.

She is a fair-skinned girl of above-average looks.)

Otane: I'm home.

Mother: You're late.

Otane: They asked me to take on more work and one thing led to another.

Mother: Come now, have your supper.

Otane: (sitting down, with a somewhat uneasy expression) Brother, just now as I was coming home, there was an old person on the other side of the street, staring fixedly toward our front entrance.

(All three become visibly uneasy.)

Ken'ichiro: Hmm.

Shinjiro: What sort of person?

Otane: It was dark so I couldn't tell, but it was a tall person.

Shinjiro: (rising and going to the next room, peering through the window) ……

Ken'ichiro: Is anyone there?

Shinjiro: No, there's no one.

(The three siblings fall silent.)

Mother: It was three days after Bon that he left this house.

Ken'ichiro: Mother, please don't speak of the old days anymore.

Mother: When I was young I felt nothing but resentment, but as I grow older my heart somehow weakens.

(All four eat in silence.

Suddenly the front door slides open with a clatter; Ken'ichiro's face and the mother's face are the most deeply shaken.

Yet the content of that agitation is markedly different.)

Man's voice: Excuse me!

Otane: Yes!

(But she too makes no move to rise.)

Man's voice: Is Otaka there?

Mother: Yes!

(She goes to the entrance as if drawn by some force; from here only voices are heard.)

Man's voice: Otaka!

Mother's voice: Oh!

Is that you — how you've aged!

How you have changed.

(Both speak in voices near tears.)

Man's voice: Well!

I'm glad you're well — that's the main thing.

The children must have grown.

Mother's voice: Grown indeed — they are all fine adults now.

Please, come in.

Man's voice: May I come in?

Mother's voice: Of course.

(The father, Sotaro, returning after twenty years, enters the room in a worn and haggard state, led by his aged wife; Shinjiro and Otane blink and gaze steadily at their father's figure.)

Shinjiro: Father — is it you? I am Shinjiro.

Father: What a fine man you've become. When I parted from you, you could barely stand on your feet……

Otane: Father, I am Tane.

Father: I heard there was a daughter — what a lovely face you have.

Mother: Oh, where does one even begin.

To see the children grown so tall — I count it above all else.

Father: They say children grow even without parents, and how true it is — ha ha ha ha.

(But no one attempts to join his laughter.

Ken'ichiro, still leaning against the table, looks downward in silence.)

Mother: Ken and Shin have both turned out so well.

Ken passed the ordinary civil service examination at twenty, and Shin never placed lower than third all the time he was in middle school.

Between the two of them they bring in sixty yen a month, and Otane is such a beauty that fine proposals come for her hand.

Father: Well, that is truly the finest thing one could hear.

Until four or five years ago I was traveling the circuit with two or three dozen people under me.

But a sideshow tent burned down completely in Kure, and I took a terrible loss.

Nothing I tried after that went well.

Meanwhile my years ahead grew short, and I felt a longing for wife and children — and so I drifted back.

A man whose days are numbered needs to ask everyone's indulgence.

(Fixing his gaze on Ken'ichiro.) Now then, Ken'ichiro!

Won't you pour me a cup? Your father hasn't been able to drink good sake lately.

Yes, yours is the one face I still recognize.

(Ken'ichiro does not respond.)

Mother: Come now, Ken — your father is asking.

Let us celebrate this reunion of parent and child after so long.

(Ken'ichiro does not respond.)

Father: Then Shinjiro — pour me a cup, will you.

Shinjiro: Yes.

(He picks up the cup and is about to pour for his father.)

Ken'ichiro: (with decision) Stop that.

There is no reason to pour for him.

Mother: What are you saying, Ken?

(The father stares at Ken'ichiro with fierce eyes.

Shinjiro and Otane both look down and say nothing.)

Ken'ichiro: (defiantly) We have no father.

There is no such person.

Father: (suppressing fierce fury) What was that!

Ken'ichiro: (in a somewhat cold tone) If we had a father, we would not have been led by the hand to the harbor by Mother when I was eight years old to drown ourselves.

The only reason we survived is that Mother, by chance, jumped into shallow water.

If we had a father, I would not have had to become an errand boy at age ten.

We grew up without a father, and there was not a single joy in our childhood.

Shinjiro, have you forgotten crying in primary school because you couldn't buy ink and paper?

Have you forgotten being mocked by your classmates and crying because you couldn't even buy proper textbooks and had to bring hand-copied ones?

We have no father — if we had one, we would not have suffered like that.

(Otaka and Otane are weeping.

Shinjiro has tears in his eyes.

The aged father is shifting from anger toward grief.)

Shinjiro: But Brother — Mother is the first to be reconciled, and she is accepting it willingly — couldn't you bear with it too?

Ken'ichiro: (still calm) Mother is a woman, and I don't know what she feels — but if I have a father, that person is my enemy.

When we were small and went hungry or suffered hardship and complained to Mother, she would say, as if by habit, "It is all because of your father — if you bear a grudge, bear it against him."

She kept saying it.

If I have a father, he is the enemy who tormented me throughout my childhood.

I was an errand boy at the prefectural office from the age of ten, Mother was gluing matchboxes, and I have not forgotten the time when Mother had no matchbox work for about a month and the four of us went without lunch.

Everything I studied with all my might was to take revenge on that enemy.

It was to make the man who abandoned us see what we had become.

It was to show him that even abandoned by a father, one can become a full member of society.

I have no memory of ever having been loved by my father in the slightest.

My father spent his time drinking and carousing outside the home until I was eight years old.

And in the end he piled up dishonorable debts and absconded with a mistress.

The love of a wife and three children combined was not enough to outweigh his feeling for that woman.

Indeed — after my father disappeared, even the passbook for the sixteen yen in savings that Mother had set aside for me was gone.

Shinjiro: (swallowing his tears) But Brother — Father is aged like that, aged as you can see……

Ken'ichiro: Shinjiro!

How can you call him "Father" so glibly?

Just because a complete stranger walks in and says he is our parent, do you immediately find yourself capable of feeling filial affection?

Shinjiro: But Brother — as his blood children, whatever a parent may have done, we have a duty to care for him……

Ken'ichiro: You would call that a duty?

He spent his life enjoying himself to the full, and now that he is old and can no longer manage on his own, he comes back.

Whatever you say, I have no father.

Father: (rising indignantly, though his anger is hollow and carries no force) Ken'ichiro!

How can you speak like that to the parent who gave you life?

Ken'ichiro: You speak of the parent who gave me life?

The Ken'ichiro you brought into the world died at the harbor twenty years ago.

Twenty years ago you forfeited your own rights as a father.

The person I am now is the self I built with my own hands.

I am beholden to no one.

(Complete silence; nothing is heard but the muffled weeping of Otaka and Otane.)

Father: Very well, I'll leave.

I'm a man who has handled two and three tens of thousands of yen in his time.

However far I've fallen, I can manage to feed myself.

I've troubled you greatly.

(He moves to leave, dejected.)

Shinjiro: Please wait.

If Brother refuses, I will take care of you somehow.

Brother is still your son — there will surely come a time when his feelings change.

Please wait.

Whatever it takes, I will support you.

Ken'ichiro: Shinjiro!

Did that man ever do anything for you?

I at least received a cuff or two from him, but you haven't received so much as a speck of dust from him.

Who paid your primary school fees?

Whose care did you grow up under?

Have you forgotten that your school fees were paid out of your brother's miserable errand-boy wages?

Your true father — yours and Tane's — is me.

I am the one who played the part of a father.

If you wish to look after that man, do so.

But if you do, your brother will not speak to you again.

Shinjiro: But……

Ken'ichiro: If you have an objection, leave with that man.

(Both women continue to weep.

Shinjiro falls silent.)

Ken'ichiro: Because I suffered from having no father, I vowed that my brother and sister would not suffer as I had — losing sleep, enduring hardship — and I have seen to it that both finished secondary school.

Father: (weakly) Say no more.

My coming back is an inconvenience to you.

I needn't force myself to be a burden on my children.

I have enough resourcefulness to fend for myself.

I'll go now.

Otaka!

Take care of yourself.

Being abandoned by me was perhaps fortunate for you after all.

Shinjiro: (following the departing father) Do you have any money?

You haven't eaten supper yet, have you?

Father: (his eyes glimmering as though in supplication) Never mind, never mind.

(He steps down toward the entrance and stumbles, sitting down on the edge of the veranda step.)

Otaka: Oh — careful!

Shinjiro: (helping the father up) Do you have somewhere to go from here?

Father: (utterly crestfallen, remaining seated) To die in a ditch, one doesn't need a home…… (as if talking to himself) I know very well I have no right to set foot in this house — but as I aged and weakened, my feet turned of their own accord toward my home country.

It's been three days since I returned to this town.

Every night I stood outside this house, but the threshold was too high for me to enter…… though in the end it would have been better not to have come in at all.

Coming back penniless, anyone would have contempt for me…… When I passed fifty, I missed my homeland, and I thought I would at least save a thousand or two thousand yen before returning to make amends to you all — but as one ages one can no longer work like that…… (Finally rising.) Well, never mind — I can manage to take care of myself, at the very least.

(He rises unsteadily, looks back once at his aged wife, then opens the door and goes.

The remaining four are silent for a while.)

Mother: (as though imploring) Ken'ichiro!

Otane: Brother!

(A tense moment passes.)

Ken'ichiro: Shin!

Go and call Father back.

(Shinjiro flies out the door.

The three wait, tense with expectation.

Shinjiro returns, his face somewhat pale.)

Shinjiro: I searched the road to the south but he is nowhere to be seen — I'll search to the north, please come with me, Brother.

Ken'ichiro: (alarmed) What — nowhere to be seen!

How can he be nowhere?

(The two brothers rush out like madmen.)

— Curtain —