Otogizoshi: The Fairy Tale Book of Dazai Osamu (Translated) (13 page)

“The whole thing’s a lie. Back then you were all about base desires. Period.”

“What is that supposed to mean? I have no idea what you’re talking about. Quit trying to belittle me. I married you because I thought I could help you. It had nothing to do with ‘base desires.’ You say the most vulgar things sometimes! You have no idea how lonely I’ve been day and night since marrying you. Is it too much to ask you to toss me a kind word now and then? Look at other married couples! No matter how poor they might be, at least they still enjoy themselves chatting and laughing together over dinner. I’m not a greedy woman by any means. I could endure any hardship and still be satisfied if you would only say a gentle word to me once in a while.”

“Here we go again. I see what you’re doing. Still trying to put it all on me with that same old tale of woe. It won’t work. Everything you say is deceitful. You just spew any old thing, according to your mood. Who do you think made me such a taciturn man? ‘Chatting and laughing’ about
what
over dinner? I’ll tell you what—their neighbors. Criticizing. Tearing others down. Nothing but backbiting, malicious gossip, all based on the mood of the moment. You know, I’ve never, ever heard you praise anyone. I’m a weak-willed man myself. When I’m around judgmental people, I too start to grow judgmental. That’s what scares me. And that’s why I decided to stop talking. The only thing people like you can see is other people’s faults, and you’re oblivious to the horror in your own hearts. You people terrify me.”

“I understand. You’ve grown tired of me. You’re sick of this old woman. I get it. So, where did your visitor go? She’s hiding somewhere? I know I heard the voice of a young woman. With someone like that to talk to it must be unbearable to have to discuss anything with an old woman like me. You can sit there looking enlightened and talking about desirelessness, but when it’s a young woman you’re talking to you start babbling like an excited little boy. Even your voice changes. You disgust me.”

“Fine, if that’s the way you feel.”

“It is not fine. Where is your guest? It would be rude for me not to greet her. I may not be much to look at, but I’m still the lady of the house here. Let me greet her. You mustn’t keep stepping all over me.”

Ojii-san jerks his chin toward the sparrow on his desk and says, “That’s her.”

“What? Stop your joking. Sparrows can’t talk.”

“This one does. Says some very perceptive things too.”

“You’re just mean enough to keep on teasing me like that, aren’t you? All right, then.” She reaches out abruptly and snatches the bird from the desk. “I’ll pluck out her tongue so she can’t say such witty things! You always have been a little too sweet on this bird. It’s sickening to watch, and this is the perfect chance to put an end to it! You’ve let your young visitor escape, and now the sparrow will pay with her tongue. Serves you right.” And with that she pries open the sparrow’s beak and plucks her little petal-like tongue right out. The sparrow flutters frantically and flies away, disappearing high into the pale blue sky.

Ojii-san stares silently after her.

And the following morning, as we all know, he begins combing the bamboo forest.

“Where dwells the sparrow who lost her tongue?

Where dwells the sparrow who lost her tongue?”

Snow falls day after day. But each day Ojii-san takes his search deeper into the bamboo forest. He’s like a man possessed. Thousands and tens of thousands of sparrows inhabit the forest. One would think it nearly impossible to find, among such numbers, one whose tongue is missing, but Ojii-san forges ahead with an extreme sort of fervor, day after day.

“Where dwells the sparrow who lost her tongue?

Where dwells the sparrow who lost her tongue?”

He has never before in his life acted with such reckless passion. Something that has lain dormant inside him would seem now, for the first time, to have raised its head, but what that something is, no one knows, not even the author (I, Dazai). A man who has always felt like a guest in his own home, constrained and ill-at-ease, suddenly finds the state of being that suits him best and chases after it. We could call that state “love” and have done with it, but the psychology expressed by the word “love” as it is commonly and casually used in daily life may perhaps be far from the wretched melancholy in this Ojii-san’s heart. He searches on relentlessly. For the first time in his life he’s taking decisive action and will not be deterred.

“Where dwells the sparrow who lost her tongue?

Where dwells the sparrow who lost her tongue?”

Not that he actually vocalizes these words as he wanders about in search of her, of course. But the wind seems to whisper in his ears, and at some point, as he tramps through the deep snow of the bamboo forest, this queer little ditty—not quite a song and not quite a chant—wells up in his heart in harmony with that whispering wind.

One night there descends a snowfall unusual in its scale even for the Sendai region. The following day the weather clears, and the sun rises upon a silver world of almost blinding brilliance. Ojii-san gets up before dawn, pulls his straw boots on, and makes his way to a new part of the snowy forest.

“Where dwells the sparrow who lost her tongue?

Where dwells the sparrow who lost her tongue?”

An enormous accumulation of snow that has settled on the canopy of bamboo suddenly breaks through, falling directly on top of Ojii-san. It catches him just right and he falls face down in the snow, unconscious. Crossing the borderline to a dream-like, phantasmal world, he hears a number of whispering voices.

“Poor man! Dead—after all that.”

“He’s not dead. He’s just been knocked for a loop.”

“He’ll freeze to death for sure, though, lying out here in the snow.”

“True. We’ll have to help him somehow. What a mess. If that child had just gone to meet him right from the start, this never would have happened. What’s wrong with her, anyway?”

“O-Teru-san?”

“Yes. I understand that she hurt her mouth, but she hasn’t shown herself since.”

“She’s in bed. Her tongue was plucked out. She can’t speak, just weeps silently day and night.”

“They plucked out her
tongue
? That’s depraved.”

“I know. And it was this one’s wife who did it. She’s not a bad old girl normally, but she must’ve been in a nasty mood that day. Suddenly grabbed O-Teru-san and ripped her tongue right out.”

“Were you there?”

“Yes. It was horrible. Human beings are like that, though. They’ll do the most unbelievably cruel things when you least expect it.”

“I’ll bet it was jealousy. I know that house pretty well myself, and this old man is awfully hard on his wife—treats her with absolute contempt. Nobody likes to see a man fuss over his woman, but this fellow’s just too damn hard on his. And O-Teru, taking advantage of that antagonism, got much too friendly with the man. Hey, no one’s innocent here. Let it go.”

“Oh? Maybe
you’re
the one who’s jealous! You had a crush on O-Teru-san yourself, didn’t you? You can’t hide it from me. Didn’t I hear you sighing one day about how O-Teru-san had the most beautiful voice in the whole bamboo forest?”

“I’m not the vulgar sort of man who gets jealous of anybody. But she did have a good voice—better than yours, at least—and she’s good-looking to boot.”

“You’re mean.”

“Now, now, you two, don’t be fighting. Nobody needs that. What are we going to do about this man? If we leave the poor fellow here, he’ll die. Think how badly he wanted to see O-Teru-san! Tramping through the snowy forest looking for her day after day, and then, to have it end like this—you have to feel sorry for him. He has a sincere heart, at least. I can tell that much.”

“What? A damn fool, is what he is. A man his age chasing a sparrow around? Hopeless.”

“Don’t say such things. Let’s bring him to her. O-Teru-san seems to want to see him too. She can’t speak, of course, without her tongue, but when we told her he was looking for her she just lay there shedding tears. I feel sorry for both of them. What do you say we join forces and try to help them out?”

“Not me. I’m not one who has any sympathy for affairs of the heart.”

“It’s not an affair of the heart. You just don’t understand. We want to help them, don’t we, everyone? This sort of thing isn’t about logic or reasoning.”

“Precisely, precisely. Allow me to take charge of the operation. There’s nothing to it. We’ll just ask the gods. Whenever you’re desperate to help someone else, against all reason, it’s best to ask the gods. My own father taught me that. He said that in such a situation the gods will grant you any wish you make. So just wait here for a bit, everyone, and I’ll go ask the god of the forest shrine.”

When Ojii-san suddenly opens his eyes, he finds himself in a pretty little room with bamboo pillars. He sits up and looks around just as a door slides open and a doll the size of an adult walks in.

“Oh! You’re awake!”

“Ah.” Ojii-san smiles good-naturedly. “But where am I?”

“The Sparrows Inn,” says the pretty, doll-like girl, kneeling politely in front of Ojii-san and blinking up at him with big, round eyes.

“I see.” Ojii-san nods serenely. “And you, then, are the sparrow who lost her tongue?”

“No, O-Teru-san is in bed in the inner chamber. My name is O-Suzu. I’m O-Teru-san’s best friend.”

“Is that so? Then the sparrow who had her tongue plucked out is named O-Teru?”

“Yes. She’s a very sweet and gentle person. You must go in and see her. The poor thing. She can’t speak, and all she does is weep.”

“Take me to her.” Ojii-san stands up. “Where’s her room?”

“This way, please.” With a flutter of her long kimono sleeves, O-Suzu rises and glides to the veranda. Ojii-san follows, taking care not to slip on the narrow walkway of slick green bamboo.

“Here we are. Please go in.”

The inner chamber is well lit. The ground outside is covered with bamboo grass through which babbles a shallow, swift-moving stream.

O-Teru is lying in her futon beneath a small red silk quilt. She is an even more elegant and beautiful doll than O-Suzu, though her cheeks are somewhat pale. She gazes at Ojii-san with big round eyes from which tears promptly begin to flow.

Ojii-san says nothing but sits on the floor beside her pillow and gazes out at the babbling stream. O-Suzu quietly retreats, leaving the two of them alone.

They don’t need to speak. Ojii-san sighs softly. But it’s not a melancholy sigh. He is experiencing peace of mind for the first time in his life, and this sigh is an expression of quiet happiness.

O-Suzu reappears to set out a tray of sake and snacks. “Enjoy,” she says, and withdraws once more.

Ojii-san pours himself a cup of sake and looks out at the garden stream again. Ojii-san is no drinker. One cup is enough to make him tipsy. He picks up the chopsticks and plucks a single bamboo shoot from the tray. It’s wonderfully delicious. But Ojii-san isn’t a big eater. He sets the chopsticks back down.

The door slides open again, and O-Suzu brings in more sake and a different dish. Kneeling before Ojii-san, she holds out the ceramic bottle and says, “Another cup?”

“No, thanks, I’ve had more than enough. Awfully good sake, though.” He isn’t just being polite. The words spill spontaneously from his lips.

“I’m glad you like it. We call it Dew of the Bamboo Grass.”

“It’s
too
good.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s
too
good.”

“Oh, look! O-Teru-san is smiling! She probably wants to say something, but...”

O-Teru shakes her head, and Ojii-san turns to address her directly for the first time.

“No need to say anything. Isn’t that so?”

O-Teru beams. She blinks her big eyes and nods repeatedly.

“Well, I really must be going now,” says Ojii-san. “I’ll be back.”

O-Suzu seems appalled by hiscasual attitude.

“My! You’re leaving already? You nearly freeze to death in the forest searching for O-Teru-san, and now that you’ve finally found her you leave without so much as a gentle word?”

“I’m not one for gentle words.” Ojii-san smiles wryly and climbs to his feet.

“O-Teru-san, he says he’s leaving. Is that all right with you?”

O-Teru smiles and nods.

“What a pair!” O-Suzu says, and laughs. “Well, please come again soon!”

“I will,” Ojii-san says solemnly. He begins to walk out but stops. “Where are we, anyway?”

“In the bamboo forest.”

“Oh? I don’t remember seeing a house like this in the forest.”

“It’s here,” O-Suzu says and exchanges a smile with O-Teru. “But it’s not visible to the average person. We’ll bring you here any time you like. You need only lie face down in the snow at that same entrance to the forest.”

“That’s good to know,” Ojii-san says, and he means it. He steps out on the green-bamboo veranda. O-Suzu leads him back to the pretty little room, and there, lined up in a row, are wicker baskets of various sizes.

“We’re ashamed not to have been able to entertain you after you’ve gone to so much trouble to visit,” O-Suzu says, resuming a more formal tone. “At least allow us to give you a souvenir as a memento of your visit. Please choose whichever of these baskets you’d like.”

“No, thanks. I don’t need anything like that,” Ojii-san mutters irritably, without so much as glancing at the baskets. “Where’s my footwear?”

“Please. I must ask you to take one!” O-Suzu says with a sob in her voice. “If not, O-Teru-san will be angry with me!”

“No she won’t. That child’s not one to get angry. I know. But where’s my footwear? I’m sure I was wearing a pair of dirty old straw boots.”

“Those things? We threw them away. You’ll have to go home barefoot.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“Then take one of these gift baskets with you. Please, I implore you.” O-Suzu presses her little hands together.

Ojii-san forces a grim smile and looks over at the baskets.

“They’re all so big. Too big. I hate carrying things when I walk. Don’t you have anything that would fit in my pocket?”