uninteresting. As a conversationalist, Daisuke far preferred his sister-in-law. Whenever Daisuke saw his brother, Seigo was sure to say, how are things; wasn’t there an earthquake in Italy; the Emperor of Turkey was deposed. Or, the cherry blossoms at Mukōjima were no good any more; a large snake was found in the bottom of a foreign ship in Yokohama; someone was run over by a train. They were all things that had appeared in the newspapers. He carried around with him an infinite number of inoffensive topics. No matter how long one talked with him, he never seemed to run out.
There were also times when he would ask such peculiar questions as, was that man named Tolstoy dead yet; or, who was the greatest novelist in Japan nowadays. In other words, he was completely indifferent to the arts and therefore shockingly ignorant. But when he asked these questions so nonchalantly, he was so far beyond respect or contempt that Daisuke found it easy to answer him.
Sitting face to face with his brother, Daisuke was never stimulated; on the other hand, he found Seigo’s straightforwardness agreeably relaxing. But since he was out from morning to night, Daisuke could seldom catch him. His sister-in-law, Seitarō, and Nuiko were all quite surprised if Seigo stayed at home and took his three meals with the family.
So, when he stood next to his brother in the shade, Daisuke thought he had found a good opportunity. “I’d like to see you about something. Would you be free some time?”
“Free,” Seigo repeated, and without any explanation, began to laugh.
“How about tomorrow morning?”
“Tomorrow morning I have to go to Yokohama.” “From noon?”
“From noon, I’ll be at the office, but there’ll be a conference, so even if you came I wouldn’t be able to stay for long.”
“Then the evening would be all right?”
“In the evening, I’m off to the Imperial Hotel. I’m supposed to host that foreign couple tomorrow night.”
Daisuke looked at his brother and pouted. Then the two burst out laughing.
“If you’re in such a hurry, how about today? Today would be all right. Why don’t we get something to eat—we haven’t done it in a long time.”
Daisuke agreed. He thought Seigo would propose the Club, but unexpectedly enough, he suggested an eel place.
“I’ve never gone to an eel place in a silk hat before,” said Daisuke hesitantly.
“What difference does it make?”
The two left the garden party and took a ricksha to an eel shop at the foot of Kanesugibashi.
It was an old-fashioned house set amidst a flowing river and weeping willows. Daisuke turned their silk hats upside down and set them on the shelf next to the blackened alcove pillar. Seeing them side-byside, he said it looked strange. Yet, with just the two of them sitting cross-legged in the large, open, second-story room, it was actually more agreeable than being at the garden party.
The two drank pleasantly. Seigo acted as if all they had to do was eat, drink, and gossip. Daisuke himself was on the verge of forgetting his purpose in getting together. But after the maid brought in the third round, he got around to business; needless to say, it concerned Michiyo’s request for a loan.
Daisuke had never yet asked Seigo for money. Of course, there was the time just after he finished school when he had overindulged in geisha and left his brother to clean up the mess. On that occasion, his brother, far from scolding, had just said, well, what a problem, don’t say anything to Father—and through Daisuke’s sister-in-law had completely paid off the debt. Because of this, Daisuke had always felt obliged to his brother. He had often been hard pressed for spending money since then, but he had managed by going to his sister-in-law. In effect, this was his first experience at bringing such a matter to his brother.
To Daisuke, Seigo seemed like a tea kettle without a handle; he did not know where to begin to get ahold of him. But this was also what intrigued him.
Daisuke began to unfold the Hiraoka couple’s history as if it were another piece of gossip. Seigo showed no signs of impatience as he sipped his sake and now and again threw in a “hm” as if to keep time. When the story advanced to the point where Michiyo came asking for money, he still only said “hm.” Daisuke had no choice but to say, “So, I felt sorry for them and said I’d see what I could do.”
“Oh. Is that right.” “What do you think?”
“Can you raise the money?”
“I can’t raise a penny. I’d have to borrow.” “Who from?”
Since this was the point he had been leading to all along, Daisuke said firmly, “I thought I’d borrow it from you.” He looked at his brother’s face again. It was still unchanged.
And he calmly answered, “I wouldn’t do that.”
Seigo’s reasons had nothing to do with obligation or kindness, or even with the practical question of whether the money would be returned or not. It was simply that he had concluded that in such circumstances, things invariably took care of themselves if left alone.
Seigo gave a number of examples to support his conclusion. There was a man named Fujino who rented a tenement house on Seigo’s property. This Fujino had been asked to keep the son of a distant relative. Soon thereafter, the boy was conscripted and had to return to his home province for a physical. But Fujino had used up the money sent for the boy’s schooling and travel expenses, and he came to Seigo asking for a loan to cover the gap. Seigo, of course, had not seen the man personally, but had instructed his wife to refuse him. This notwithstanding, the son had gone home at the appointed time and undergone his physical without any great inconvenience. Then there was the time when a relative of Fujino’s had used up the deposit on a house he rented, and when the renters were ready to move, he could not return the sum and came begging through Fujino. Seigo had made his wife refuse again. Still, the deposit was returned without any great difficulty. There were other examples, mostly in the same vein.
“There’s no doubt about it, Umeko’s giving it away behind your back. You’re pretty gullible, aren’t you,” said Daisuke, laughing heartily. “Of course not. Nothing of the sort is going on.” Seigo looked the same as ever. He lifted the sake cup before him to his lips.
CHAPTER VI
THAT DAY SEIGO WOULD NOT readily agree to lending him the money. For his part, Daisuke avoided whining about how pitiable Michiyo was, or how touching her situation. Even if he himself had such feelings toward her, it would take no ordinary effort to lead his brother, who knew nothing, to that point. Besides, if he were to rashly mouth sentimental phrases, his brother would be scornful—as it was, Seigo seemed to find him a trifle ridiculous. So Daisuke went on in his usual aimless way, wandering from one point to another as he drank. And as he drank, he thought that this was what his father meant by his lack of zeal. But he prided himself on not being so vulgar as to attempt to persuade people with tears. If anything was offensive, it was affected tears, anguish, earnestness, or zeal. His brother also understood this. Hence, if Daisuke were to use such a ploy and fail, he would forever lower himself in his brother’s eyes.
Daisuke gradually moved away from the issue of money. He touched upon such topics as would make them both feel that it was only because they were there, face to face, that they had been able to drink so pleasantly. But when it came time to have their rice and tea, Daisuke suddenly asked, as if he had just remembered it, if Seigo wouldn’t find Hiraoka a position in his company even if he wouldn’t lend him money.
“No, I don’t want to have anything to do with people like that. Besides, business is bad. There’s nothing I can do.”
The next morning, Daisuke’s first thought upon waking was that only a business colleague could persuade Seigo; it did no good to appeal to him as a brother.
After he had determined as much, however, it still did not occur to him to regard his brother as particularly unsympathetic. Indeed, he felt