Flower Mat. Shugoro Yamamoto
body odor would encompass her so tightly that it was rather oppressive. She would be entranced with a feeling of great relief and incomparable happiness, and would close her eyes and sigh. Overcome by such sweetness and ecstasy, Ichi sometimes cried, pushing her head against her husband's chest.
"It's nothing," she said, seeking the hand of her wondering husband and still hiding her face. "There's nothing sad. I'm so happy. I'm so happy that it almost makes me sad, and tears come. Do you think there's something wrong with me?"
"Your health isn't normal," her husband said, stroking her back soothingly. "Did you feel something like that when you came here and cried the other night?"
"That was different. I don't know why, but that night I could think only sad things, and I couldn't do anything except cry."
"What sad things?"
"That you don't love me, that you will leave me someday. . . . When I think of it now, I wonder how I could even think such things." Ichi trembled. "I don't even want to remember it. I'm sure something was wrong with me."
Shinzo said nothing. He seemed on the verge of speaking, but suddenly knit his brows, and his lips twitched. He looked vaguely off into space and continued stroking his wife's back. Whenever he did this, Ichi's nerves would gradually calm down and she sometimes fell asleep.
"Well, go back to your bed and sleep," her husband told her softly. "I'm sure you can. Sleep well."
When the rainy season began, her eye condition almost cleared up. Since this had been a year of little rain, it had seemed there would be no rainy season at all, and the drought (which the old men said was the worst in more than ten years) continued. However, there were generous springs everywhere in the region, and there was little possibility of a crop failure in the event of a long drought. On the contrary, since there was danger of flooding if it rained too much, people were usually pleased by a dry rainy season.
About this time her husband and Kyunosuke seemed to become very busy. They would often go out after dinner and would come back from the castle at odd hours and sometimes not until the following day, explaining that they had been "on night duty." More unfamiliar guests began coming to the house.
Despite these occurrences, Tatsuya was as composed as ever. Because of his obesity he had a difficult time in the heat. He was never seen doing anything but noisily using his fan and, with a folded towel in his hand, constantly wiping off perspiration. Yet he would never try to forget about the heat by engaging in some activity or by looking for a shady place or a breeze. Even when the sun reached the place where he sat, he would never move to another place. He would gaze at the moving sun and continue gazing at it until it reached a part of his body, his legs, a shoulder, or his navel. Then he would sigh, move back a bit, and twirl the fan noisily, wiping off sweat with his other hand.
When Kyunosuke peeped into his room one day, Tatsuya was sitting with his back against the wall. The perspiration was rolling in beads down his red face. The sun was shining on him from his chest down, and he looked like a broiled lobster.
When Kyunosuke asked, "What are you doing in such a sunny place?" Tatsuya replied that he had been able to escape the sun so far, but "back of me is a wall. . . ."
"You shouldn't sit still like that, you should do something," Kyunosuke said, staring at his brother. "You'd better move around a bit. If you do something, you'll be able to forget about the heat."
"I think so too." Tatsuya displayed the fan and the towel he was holding to his younger brother. "But I have to fan with one hand and wipe sweat off with the other—so both my hands are occupied. I simply can't do anything else."
4
Around the middle of June, while she was thinking along these lines, a letter came from her father, addressed to Shinzo.
Ichi's time is approaching, and I am happy to know that she is doing well. But since she is our only daughter, and since in addition it is her first child, we would like her to give birth at our house, if it is possible. There are many such cases, but in this case, since my wife and I (and particularly my wife) greatly desire it, I should appreciate your granting our request, selfish though it may be. Depending on your answer, we are ready to send someone to fetch her when it is convenient for you.
"My mother has no objections, but what do you think?" Shinzo asked, after he had let Ichi read the letter. "We should forget now about your hesitation and reserve. I want to know what you really want."
It was teatime, after supper, and Kyunosuke, Tatsuya, and Iso were also there. Ichi indicated that she wanted to think about it for a while, but soon answered firmly that she wanted to give birth in her husband's house and that she was not going back to her parents'. The truth was that she would have felt safer and more relaxed at her parents' house. As a girl she had often heard people say that "so-and-so is now at her parents' house to give birth," and there must have been a good reason for it. But again Ichi remembered Bennosuke's words and could not bring herself to say that she would go home.
"But don't you think your parents would feel bad, since they want you to go home?" Iso asked, as if she had not expected this answer from Ichi. "In any event, it's your first childbirth. I think you'll feel more secure when the time comes if you're with your parents."
"I don't think so," Kyunosuke said as if angry. "Since mother has had experience giving birth to and raising three children, and since we have enough servants, I don't think we should bother the Okumuras. I think that what Ichi said is right."
"That may be true, but you really feel helpless with the first childbirth, though Kyunosuke may not be able to understand this since he's a man."
"Anyway, think it over for a while and let me have your answer later," Shinzo told Ichi. "It's not something you should decide in a hurry, and it won't be too late after you've thought it over well. . . . No, Kyunosuke, that's all right," Shinzo added. "I know exactly what your opinion is."
Kyunosuke had been about to say something and seemed unhappy at being cut off. Only Tatsuya had been silent from the beginning, absorbed as usual in using his fan and wiping perspiration. When they had finished talking, however, he said something strange.
"I've heard they wrap hemp around a dog's belly, and then it can give birth to its young rather easily."
"Around a dog's belly?" Iso asked him, shocked. "Sometimes you say things we can't understand, Tatsuya. ..."
"Since I heard it from someone, I don't know whether it's true or not. It's probably a superstition, but I heard that everyone does it."
"From whom did you hear this?" Iso asked.
"You know the old man named Josuke—the one who brings vegetables to the kitchen? . . . From that old farmer." Tatsuya blinked his puffy, drooping eyes. "And I also heard that Josuke's wife is very good at delivering babies. They say there will never be a mistake if his wife is asked to attend any dangerous childbirth."
Iso's eyes widened. "Why did you get into such a conversation? Isn't that old man a queer person to have told you such a thing!"
"Oh no, that old man and Tatsuya talk about anything," Kyunosuke said, coming to his brother's rescue. "When I was listening to him the other day, he was so proud of having made an eggplant bear 416 fruits. He was saying something about fertilizer, wasn't he, Tatsuya? Hasn't he been coming here for a long time?"