THE NEW month brought a relaxation of winter’s grip. And by the end of that month the rumored retrenchment in connection with the increase in civil servants’ salaries was by and large completed, at both the section and department levels. During this period the names of fired colleagues, some familiar, some not, would reach Sōsuke’s ears, and more than once he said to Oyone upon arriving home, “I could be next.”
To Oyone this sounded like a joke, but also as though her husband actually meant what he said. Every so often she could not help construing such words as an ill omen of the hitherto veiled future. Even in the mind of Sōsuke, the one who had spoken them, their meaning kept shifting like fleeting clouds.
When the new month arrived and with it the announcement that the unsettling retrenchment at the office was more or less over, Sōsuke, reflecting on his having been spared by fate, considered the result to be on the whole a predictable outcome. Then again, he saw it as quite a stroke of luck. Getting up from the table he looked down at Oyone.
“Well, it seems as if I’ve escaped,” he said, a dour expression on his face.
His deadpan manner, neither happy nor sad, stuck Oyone as hilarious.
A few days later, Sōsuke received a five-yen raise. “It’s less than the twenty-five percent they originally proposed,” he said, “but that’s understandable, what with a lot of men out of a job and others whose salaries have been frozen.” He displayed considerable satisfaction at the raise, as though he had made off with a reward greater than he deserved. Naturally Oyone did not have it in her to find cause for complaint.
The next day Sōsuke found himself gazing down at a whole fish set before him, head and all, its tail curving over the edge of the plate. He inhaled the aroma of cooked rice, ruddy with the adzuki beans that had been mixed in. Oyone had made sure to invite Koroku, to this end dispatching Kiyo to the Sakais’ house, where he was now in residence.
“Well, well, what a treat,” said Koroku as he entered through the kitchen.
By now, plum blossoms could be seen here and there. Those that had been the first to open were already faded and half scattered. Mist-like rain began to descend. When it cleared, waves of humid air rose from the ground and from the rooftops steaming in the sun, reviving memories of springs past. On balmy days puppies gamboled about the oil-paper umbrellas set out to dry at back doors; heat shimmered off the glistening bull’s-eyes painted in their centers.
“Winter’s over at last,” Oyone said. “Next Saturday you really should go over to your aunt’s and settle things for Koroku,” she urged. “If you keep putting it off, Yasu-san will end up forgetting, you know.”
“Yes, I’ll definitely drop by then,” said Sōsuke.
Now that the Sakais had generously taken in Koroku, Sōsuke himself had volunteered to his brother that if at all possible, he and Yasunosuke would share in paying all of his additional expenses. Not waiting for Sōsuke to bestir himself, Koroku had broached the matter directly with Yasunosuke. His cousin consented to the plan, provided that Sōsuke went through the motions of making a formal request. And so Koroku achieved the desired outcome on his own initiative.
Thus this couple who were averse to all change found themselves back in calm waters. One Sunday afternoon, in order to wash away a four-day accumulation of grime, Sōsuke paid a rare visit to the bathhouse in the nearby business district. Inside, a fiftyish man with the shaved head of a priest and a man in his thirties with the look of a merchant were chatting, each commenting to the other that it finally felt like spring. The younger man announced that he’d heard his first bush warbler just that morning. The priest replied that he’d heard one two or three days earlier.
“It was the bird’s first try, and it really made a mess of things.”
“Yes, I know what you mean. They haven’t got the hang of it yet.”
Back home, Sōsuke repeated this exchange about the bush warbler.
Gazing through the glass shoji at the sparkling sunlight, Oyone’s face brightened. “What a sight for sore eyes. Spring at last!”
Sōsuke had stepped out on the veranda and was trimming his fingernails, which had grown quite long.
“True, but then it will be winter again before you know it,” he said, head lowered, as he snipped away with the scissors.