In Sansho the Bailiff, Ogai writes "…leaves the house in Shinobu-gun, Iwashiro." In other words, the characters for the name Iwaki are read as Iwaki and as Iwashiro. I believe confusion set in and eventually that legend was adopted by Mount Iwaki in Tsugaru. But the people in Tsugaru long ago firmly believed Anju and Tsushio were children of Tsugaru and fittingly cursed Sansho the Bailiff. We as sympathizers of Anju and Tsushio were delighted with the belief that if anyone from Tango entered Tsugaru, the weather worsened.
I'll stop here with the folklore of Sotogahama. Our bus arrived in Imabetsu, where M lives, around noon. As I said earlier, Imabetsu is a port city that could be described as modern. Its population was close to four thousand. N led me to M's house for our visit. His wife greeted us and said he was out. It seems he was a little ill. Whenever I encounter this kind of situation at another's home, I have the habit of immediately wondering if I had a fight with him. Was I right or wrong? The appearance of an author or a newspaper reporter at a nice home easily makes people uneasy. As an author, that should pain me. An author who has not experienced this pain is stupid.
"Where did he go?" N casually asked. He set down his backpack and said, "I'll rest here for a while," and sat on a step at the entrance.
"I'll call him," she said.
"Oh, I'm sorry," said N calmly and asked, "Is he at the hospital?"
"Uh, I believe so," softly said the attractive, shy woman as she slipped on her geta clogs and went outside. M worked in a hospital in Imabetsu.
I sat down beside N on the step and we waited.
"Did he know we were coming?"
"Uh, well," said N and calmly smoked his cigarette.
"Unfortunately, you can't show up at lunchtime," I said a little worried.
"Well, we brought our own lunches," he said smugly. The last samurai Saigo Takamori was probably like this, too.
M returned home. He smiled bashfully and said, "Welcome."
"Sorry but we can't stay," said N and stood, "If we're going by boat, I'd like to go right away by boat to Tappi."
"Oh," said M and slightly bowed his head, "Well, I'll see if it's running."
M headed to the harbor to ask, but the boat was canceled.
"That settles it," said my guide not looking particularly disappointed, "Well, will you let us rest here to eat our bento lunch?"
"We're fine sitting here," I said with great reserve.
"Won't you come in?" M meekly asked.
"Why don't we go in?" said N and calmly removed his gaiters, "We'll plan the next step of our itinerary more carefully."
We passed into M's study. There was a small hearth, and a charcoal fire crackled. The bookshelves were stuffed with books. The collected works of Paul Valery and those of Izumi Kyoka were included. Nankei, who concluded with confidence "manners and refined civilization still need to advance," may come this far and faint.
"I have sake," said the genteel M and blushed, "Shall we have a drink?"
"No, no, if we drink here," N started to say but laughed it off.
"It's all right," said M, who grasped the situation immediately, "I set aside sake for you to take to Tappi."
"Ha, ha," said N and playfully added, "Oh no, but if we start drinking now, we may not be able to go to Tappi tomorrow."
M's wife silently brought in the bottle of sake. From the beginning, his wife was a quiet woman but was not particularly angry at us. I thought about it again favorably to me.
"Should we have a little but not enough to get drunk?" I proposed to N.
"If I drink, I'll get drunk," said N with authority, "Shall we stay in Minmaya tonight?"
"That's good. Today, you can spend a relaxed day in Imabetsu and walk to Minmaya. A leisurely walk would take about an hour, right? No matter how much you drink, the walk is a cinch," M suggested. We decided to spend the night in Minmaya and began drinking.
From the moment I entered this room, there was one obstacle. The collection of literary essays of the fifty-year-old writer I criticized in Kanita was neatly arranged on M's desk. Readers are great people. Although I abused this author so much on that day on Kanranzan in Kanita, M's trust in this author did not seem the least bit shaky.
"Hey, let me see this book."
I was worried and restless. I borrowed M's book, flipped it open, and began reading with keen eyes. I wanted to pick out any flaw and sing a victory song. However, the place I read seemed to have been written when the writer was on edge and thoroughly absorbed. I read in silence. I read one page, two pages, three pages, and finally five pages, then I tossed the book aside.
"The part I read was fairly good. But his other works have some bad parts," said the sore loser.
M seemed delighted.
"The binding
