Troubled Waters

As snowflakes flutter gently in the air like the dancing wings of butterflies, dusting the earth as far as the eye can see in a powder of argent, their six-petalled crystals land on trees stripped bare by winter, a vista of spring blossoms to come. How I envy those whom such a scene moves to compose verse and song enumerating the snow’s many beauties alongside those of the moon and flowers. Alas! for me the endlessly falling snow conjures but sorrow- ful and bitter memories of a past that cannot be shaken off. Myriad regrets I have, and each one of them in vain. What a waste—what impiety!—to have forsaken the land of my ancestors, to have disobeyed even the aunt who raised me with such tenderness. Now I have besmirched the very name my parents bestowed on me. They called me Tama—their Pearl—believing the word impervious to tarnish. Never would they have dreamt that my wretched existence would end up as worthless as a broken tile. Yet into a mountain stream I fell, and, borne by the current, I found myself in troubled waters. My youth was my downfall, my sin love, and the go-between a snowy day.


I was born in the mountains, in a hamlet where the grass grows deep. Ours was an eminent family, whose name, Usui, was known throughout the region. An only child, I was the last in the family line. Both my parents departed this world, alas, before their time, and so it was my aunt—who had mar- ried into another family, only then to lose her husband—who returned home to take charge of me. And yet, from the time that I was almost three, she devoted herself to my upbringing as though I were her own. Even the gentle, tender love of a parent, I dare say, could not surpass hers. When I reached my seventh year, she arranged for a master of calligraphy to tutor me, and herself spared no efforts instructing me in music. But even so, no gatekeeper can check the passage of years… One day, the folds in my maiden’s kimono were lowered, and I began to pluck my eyebrows. What a joy it was to wrap a woman’s broad obi about my waist. And yet, to think back on it now—what folly! I may have grown as tall as my years decreed, but there could be no comparing my cultivation to that of the young ladies of the capital. In that respect, I was a mere child, quite unaware of the differences between men and women. My life was in all regards unclouded, sans care or worry. Then came the winter of my fifteenth year. How could anyone have known the love that was in my heart—a love that was unknown then even to me? Still, driving winds carried with them rumours that reached my dear aunt’s ears. Those rumours held that I was in love.

The world in which we live is one of error and mistake. Rumours break like waves in some nameless river, dappling our sleeves with falsehood. The reason for those torrents, for those tears, was Katsuragi Ichirō, a teacher at the school I attended. He was a native of Tokyo. A fine figure of a man, he was well liked by the pupils because he was kind of heart, and the merest mention of his name provoked admiration in all. He lodged half a mile from me, to the north, in a little cottage on the grounds of the Hōshō-ji temple. I had been his pet ever since I first set foot in the school. But ah! how true is the saying that old habits die hard. Sometimes he would pay me a visit, and on other occasions I would accompany him home. The stories he would tell me were filled with many a stimulating lesson. He would treat me just like a little sister, which of course delighted me, having no siblings of my own. At school, I even took a certain pride in all this, but to think back on it now, it must have struck others as very odd indeed. For although our relations were as pure as the driven snow, I was no longer a child and had begun to wear my hair up in the shimada style thought suitable for young women. And besides, this man was now in his early thirties. Ah! what folly it was to ignore those learned books, where it is written that boys and girls should be separated after their seventh year… The wildfires of rumour, once lit, are nigh impossible to extinguish. Believing our conduct improper, the villagers began to make insinuations. Alas! that my precious pearl should be tarnished so, my aunt lamented. What will it bring but a lifetime of misery and disappointment? Mark my words. Have you forgotten the troubles I took in rearing you? To think that the last girl in the Usui line would behave with such depravity! Do you know what people are saying? She’d never have turned out that way if her parents were alive! It’s your poor mother that I feel sorry for, she who on her deathbed begged me to take care of you. She was so weak that she could scarcely speak! Oh, this is more than I can bear! Whoever wrote that a parent must grope their way in the dark—how well he knew that of which he wrote! To think that everything has been in vain, after all I’ve done for you. We’ll wind up the laughing-stock of the village! Frankly, I haven’t the least idea what to do now—neither for the sake of my dearly departed sister, nor for the good name of the Usui family! A woman of few words ordinarily, my aunt now carried on admonishing me most emphati- cally, although in hushed tones, for fear that the neighbours might overhear. At first, I was utterly bewildered, insensible to her words, but then she spoke more pointedly. Now listen here, Tama! It’s clear that Katsuragi loves you, and that you in turn pine for him. Be that as it may, there are rules to be observed in matters like this. We Usui have never married outside this village, let alone anyone from the capital. A fine scholar though Katsuragi may be, we know nothing of him or of his background. It’s unthinkable that he could ever be allowed to join a family of such pedigree as ours. No matter how much you may love him, marriage is out of the question. And if these are just rumours, which I hope they are, then so much the better. You are not to see him again, do you hear?

Henceforth, you shall give him a wide berth. You won’t be needing lessons from him any more. That I have treated that man with any respect at all until now is only out of love for you. To bow and scrape before such a worthless stranger is beneath me. All these years, I have raised you to the best of my abilities. People always said what a lovely girl you were. And how proud you made me too! Only for him to come and envelop you in a miasma of scandal… But there’s nothing for it now. What’s done is done. Now you must repair the damage you’ve caused, clear your name, and set my mind at ease. At any rate, that man is your enemy, and if you have any thought for me or your family’s reputation, you will put this Katsuragi Ichirō out of your mind—lock, stock and barrel. You are never to see him again, do you hear? Even if you should happen to pass by his lodgings. These directives, piled one on top of another, tore so cruelly at my heart that I could hold back my tears no longer. Ah! how I wept and wept, my face buried in my sleeves.

What injustice this is! Let the whole village gossip and shun me! What do I care? But for my own aunt, who raised me, to doubt my innocence and accuse me of sullying myself like this?! It isn’t as if I met Mr Katsuragi only yesterday, either. Our conduct has been quite proper. You ought to see that. It’s heartless that you should let yourself be swayed by idle gossip! Would that I could cut open my heart to prove my innocence! Thus did I protest. But whatever emotions may have lurked at the bottom of my heart were like wild horses whose reins I could not hold.

Even a solitary bamboo shutter drawn between friends may cause heartache. Across the half mile that separated us, the stern gaze of the villagers was an impediment to our meeting. Soon, the cold winds of winter began to blow, strip- ping the trees bare. How I envied the scattering red maple leaves that would be borne towards him. I would gaze off into the distance to see where they would go, and the sight of the forest beckoned to me. Recollections of that cottage where he lived, on the edge of the village, came back to me. The evening tolling of the bell at the Hōshō-ji temple echoed plaintively. While my spirit was drawn towards the heavens, yet my aunt’s admonitions weighed me down. I did not even dare so much as to turn in his direction, and so I waited and waited for the day when he would come to me. But the rumours had spread, and doubtless this gave him pause. I received no word from him. As our separation con- tinued, I seemed to live a thousand autumns. The New Year eventually came, bringing with it fresh hopes and prayers and celebrations. On the seventh day, my aunt betook herself to a neighbouring village to pay her respects to some relatives there. The sky, which had been cloudy since the morning, was growing darker and darker. Although the winds had died down, yet the bitter cold cut to the bone. I felt terribly alone. Then, all of a sudden, I spotted a flurry of snow from the heavens. Won’t Auntie be cold? I mused by the warmth of the brazier. The snow was getting heavier: unrelenting, it now fell like cotton. Soon it had blanketed everything, the garden, the fence… I opened the low window ever so slightly.

The fields and farmlands behind the house, as far as the eye could see, were obscured entirely. The forest where he lived, the one on which I gazed out every day, was now the same colour as the sky. What was he doing now? I wondered, my feelings in disarray.

If there is a god of misfortune, then he had certainly set his sights on me. What can I have been thinking? In that moment, I knew neither good nor evil. Driven by a sense of longing, I fled my family home, showing a complete disregard for all and sundry.

It did not occur to me then that this was the end, that never again would I look back on those eaves that were so dear to me. In my impatience, I went hurrying out of the gate. Miss! Wherever are you off to in all this snow? And without an umbrella, too! The voice that had so startled me belonged to our farmhand, Heisuke, a loyal but rather slow-witted man. I’m going to meet Auntie! I lied. Oh, but surely she’ll spend the night there, given the weather and all? But if you really want someone to go and meet her, Miss, I’ll go, and you can wait here. I wouldn’t dream of it! And besides, she’ll be so proud to see me make my way in the snow, all by myself. You just stay here and pretend you never saw me. Well, I think you’re mad, said Heisuke, wearing a louche, broad grin, but if your mind’s made up, you’d better take this. He handed me the umbrella. Just mind how you go now, lest you slip and fall! Wherever there is a bond between two souls, their longing will colour everything, I thought to myself, recalling lines from a certain poem. That my aunt had been so cold, so strict with me had, of course, been for my own benefit; but only later did I come to appreciate just how undeserving of her efforts I had been.

I was in love with my teacher, to be sure, but despite this I had never imagined, not even in my dreams, that I should one day call that man my husband, or that we should elope together. The two of us drifted aimlessly. Like the black bamboo by my window, bent by the heavy snows, we were broken by the burden of our sins. Quitting the home of my ancestors and forsaking my aunt: such was my dream, my wicked desire that snowy day.

The resentment I now feel for my husband is in vain. Splendid indeed are the flowers of the capital, but how could a mountain tree such as myself ever have hoped to equal them? I am forsaken and alone, withered like grass in winter. Sometimes, with teardrops on my sleeves, I question the past and realize that it was all a mistake. Later, winds brought with them news from my village: my departure had plunged my aunt into such terrible grief that she passed away in the autumn of that same year. But it is too late for regrets now. I have nothing left in this fleeting world. In protecting the honour of a man who is indifferent to me, I have tried to carry a strange and unfamiliar tune. How right Shikibu was when she wrote that the first snow falls on a world of ever- mounting sorrows. Now here it is again this year, unaware of
the torments it brings, sparing with its white veil the blushes of a broken fence, while boasting of its own splendour, as though to say, Behold this, my work!... I loved it, too—once upon a time.