Literature The Ink Stick Ariyoshi Sawako applying her make-up when Mi- matsu, the kimono dealer, came to the house. Her disciple ushered him in immediately, aware how eager she was to see the man, “Good morning.” Something buoyant in the tone of his voice made Haruko stare into the mirror. “Is my kimono ready?” “No, but I thought you'd like to see the material before I had it sewn.” “Yes, do Iet me see it.” “Ys it all right here?” “Of course.” Haruko had just finished applying the make-up foundation, and the whiteness of her unrouged face may have appeared some+ what strange to Mimatsu, That was why he had made sure she wanted him to unroll the material. But Haruko was always impatient to see kimono material dyed to her order. She turned abruptly from the mirror and slid from the thick cushion before her mirror stand onto the tatami. Mimatsu untied the large wrapper of striped cotton and took out a roll of cloth, licking his lips as he watched Haruko. When his face broke into a smile, Haruko knew from his expression that he was pleased Ho rvi was seated before the mirror Copyright(c) 2002 PraQuest Information and Learning Company Copyright (c) Asahi Shimbun with the results, even as a dealer. “Hurry! “Yes, in just a second.” ‘Mimatsu’s expression grew serious as he unrolled the cloth. Like a living creature, the white silk sprang forward a distance of six feet. “Oh, how beautiful!” breathed Haruko, She sat up straight and placed her hands politely on her knees, Seeing her mistress sitting formally as at the dance studio, her disciple knelt in surprise. The silk rolled from Mimatsu’s hands onto the tatami, forming the body of the kimono, He then arranged the sections to be used for the sleeves of the kimono to illustrate what the finished product would look like. The fine figured satin had a sayagata design. Shadows of cherry blossoms, which were painted in ink, flickered on the surface of the glossy silk. Cherry blossoms. Each blossom—each petal—was enchantingly shaded. Scattered about, they bloomed triumphantly. The blossoms had all been painted in black ink, and at the center of each blossom was a dot of gold foil. Studying the dot closely, Haruko saw that it was not artificial gold. Each center had been the careful work of the painter who had painstakingly applied theThe Ink Stick 349 gold with the tip of his brush. He had, of course, used real gold, “It’s magnificent, Mimatsu.” “It is, isn’t it?” Very pleased with himself, Mimatsu smiled and looked rapturously at the tatami. He must have filled over a thousand kimono orders since he had gone into service at a kimono dealer’s as a child. However, very few kimonos had turned out exactly as he wished. Feeling even more intoxicated with joy than Haruko, who had placed the order for the kimono, he gazed ecstatically at the material. “The kimono will be very beautiful.” “Ill be second to none. Neither the expensive tiz-dyed crape nor embroidered silk can compare with this design painted by such a talented artisan. Even the colorful Yizen printed silk would seem pale in com- parison.” “Do you think the audience will find me beautiful?” “Tell depend on our getting to work at once.” “What a hateful thing to say!” Haruko glared good-naturedly at Mimatsu. Mimatsu solemnly moved forward on his knees. “] meant what I said. Had I thought you would refuse to. wear this kimono, I’d never have delivered the material. Even the old man has worked himself to the bones for you.”” Being a professional dancer, Haruko took great pleasure in receiving compliments. Smiling, she brought to her lips the tea her pupil had served. The tea had cooled enough for her to savor its full sweet flavor. “Is the old man feeling well?” “Yes, he is. And it’s because he's so enthusiastic about his work. He’s grown rather weak, though. I will not allow him to overexert himself. I hear that after the old man painted these cherry blossoms, he counted each one. He said that there were exactly 8,800 blossoms, I laughingly called Copyright (¢) 2002 PraQuest Information and Learning Company Copyright(c) Asahi Shimbun him an eccentric when he said that he may as well paint 88 more, He then painted the 88 blossoms along the seam line of the sleeves.” “Are there really 8,888 cherry blossoms ?"” “That's what the man said, and he wouldn’t lie about it. I'll have the seamstress count them if you don’t believe me.”” “That won't be necessary. I believe you.” For a long while the two gazed quietly at the silk, The same thought sce:ued to be going through their heads, “It must have been exhausting to paint so many blossoms.” “The old man admitted he was rather tired. When I picked up the material this morning, I saw that his eyes were hollow with fatigue.” “I can imagine.” Then Haruko added very gravely, “I guess there’s less of the ink stick now.” Gathering the silk to him, Mimatsu began winding it from one end around the card- board center. Silently, the silk—as though it had life of its own—crawled smoothly along the tatami, making a faint rustling sound. It came to rest after slithering from Mimatsu’s knees to his breast. Haruko suddenly thought of snakes in India which are hypnotized by snake charm- ers. This thought had probably come to her since the sheen of the figured silk and the color of the ink-painted design had been associated in her mind with the skin of a white snake. Then again, the cherry blossoms made Haruko, a professional dancer, recall the Dajaji legend in which a snake figures prominently. Assoon as Mimatsu took his leave, Haruko seated herself once again before the mirror and continued to apply her make-up which she had left unfinished. The foundation had absorbed the heat from her skin and had taken on an oily sheen. Taking up some rouge with her ring finger, Haruko dotted her eyelids and cheek bones, then spread it out using both hands. Reflected in the mirror, her face reddened as though with anger. Lately, with each passing day, Haruko350 Japan Quatterly realized that her make-up had become heavier. The dance master of the Kajikawa School had organized a small troupe and its members often went abroad. Haruko had been invited along as the leading dancer. She was indeed a professional dancer, but in Japan, unless a woman was a geisha who specialized in entertainment, she did not apply heavy make-up regularly. However, after the dance troupe was organized and Haruko performed on the stage, she was expected to apply stage make-up almost daily, She concluded that it was only natural for her to have grown accustomed to wielding the make-up brush. Haruko tried extra hard to make exeuses for herself, for she knew ‘that this was far from being the real reason. True, Haruko had begun to apply make-up heavily during the past few years. After passing the age of thirty, she had realized that this was fhe least she could do to main- tain her youthful appearance. She had been selected as the leading dancer since her talent and poise had been so outstanding. But the other dancers were young women in their twenties, Though she appeared much young- er than her years, Haruko could not help but feel self-conscious about her age as she traveled with the young women. When, after having removed her make-up with cleansing cream, she found herself seated beside young girls at the dinner table or face to face with them in the washroom shorily after rising in the morning, she was forced to acknowledge that fact that her complexion was somehow different. Haruko was still far from being old, but a vague fear gnawed at her from within as she applied her make-up. She had become highly selective in choosing her cosmetics, She knew that the face powder brushed on over the thickly-applied rouge must neither be too fine nor too coarse. With great effort she had finally discovered the quality which best suited her complexion. The color of the powder had changed completely from the whitish powder she used to apply in her Copyright (¢) 2002 ProQuest Information and Learning Company Copyright (¢) Asahi Shimbun twenties to one with a youthful pinkish tinge. Haruko’s face therefore glowed rosily when she finished applying her make-up. Haruko had tried a variety of foreign eyeliners and eyebrow pencils but had come to the conclusion that for lining her eyes and darkening her eyebrows, charred paulownia, which had been used from ancient times, was the best. Haruko’s hair and eyebrows were raven-black. The brownish-red dye which was then in vogue did not go well with her Japanese features, and so she was unable to use eyeliners or eyebrow pencils with a brownish or bluish tinge. Haruko tore off a strip of paulownia as thick as a toothpick and lit the tip with a match. Just as the flame rose, she blew it out before a whitish ash could form and cooled the tip by pressing it with the fingers of her right hand. She then darkened her eyebrows and lined her eyes by applying directly the charcoal which had been produced. Tt had just the right degree of darkness; moreover, it had a nice sheen. Because the quality of the charcoal was fine, it harmed neither her complexion nor the roots of her eyelashes and eyebrows. When her eyes and lips were distinctly out- lined, they glowed animatedly from within. Haruko liked best this moment when her toilet preparations were completed, for there is no greater happiness for a woman than to know that she is beautiful, Moistening the charred paulownia with the tip of her tongue, Haruko pressed it along her eyebrow for what seemed an eternity. The charred stick made her think of the kimono with the ink- painted design that she had seen a moment ago. In fact, Haruko, though she had been absorbed in applying her cosmetics after ‘Mimatsu had taken his leave, had been unable to forget the kimono. Her face made-up to her complete satisfaction, Haruko finally relaxed and, as though the image of the silk still lingered, gazed vacantly at the tatami of the living room where until a short time ago over 8,000 ink-drawn blossoms had bloomed in all their glory. Her thoughts then turnedThe Ink Stick 351 ‘to the old man whom Mimatsu referred to as Jiisan and whom she herself had affectionately called Ojiisan. Born the only daughter of a prosperous doctor, Haruko had been accustomed to a life of luxury since childhood. Because of her parents’ flamboyant tastes, Haruko had ‘been made to take lessons in the Japanese dance, This was how she had been pushed into this particular discipline. She had in time grown accustomed to wearing kimonos of expensive tie-dyed material with hemp-leaf patterns and gorgeous Yiizen silk. Haruko had never been niggardly about her wardrobe, since on stage and in everyday life she was fully conscious that the kimono was the very life of a professional dancer, Even when she had had a love affair with an actor who had come to study the Japanese dance under the former master of the Kajikawa School and hhad been disinherited, she had managed somehow to obtain money for her kimonos. “Harutoyo's* performance deserves praise for its extravagance and polish. She wouldn’t ‘be half as outstanding if she relied on her Jooks alone. How breath-taking it is when she trails behind her the skirt of an expensive all-crape kimono as she dances ‘The Green of the Pine Tree’.”” The young dance master, who was about the same age as Haruko, was not far from hitting the mark when he praised her with these words. Nevertheless, Haruko could not help being startled that she had reached an age when sparkling gems seemed out of place on her fingers. There she was, dressed in a magnificent multi-colored robe, but that ‘huge Mexican opal glittering on her finger . . . ‘When she slipped the ring on, the gem seemed ‘to detach itself from her, and all that could ‘be seen was the brilliant rays of color. ‘The colorful glittering, ordinarily considered ‘beautiful, appeared somewhat cold and vulgar. On stage she might be able to deceive others Harutoyo. Copyright (¢) 2002 ProQuest Information and Learning, Company Copyright(c) Asahi Shimbun with her wig and stage make-up, but when she met people in person, she was convinced that she could no longer wear bright colors, even if the kimono had a fine design. What, then, was she to wear? Haruko was at a rather awkward age. What's more, her pro- fession was one which was particular about the selection of kimonos. It would not do for her to wear somber kimonos, nor could she wear modern ones like the bar hostesses, though she had to be as fashionable as a geisha. It therefore occurred to Haruko to wear subdued color combinations with a flair. Purplish blue, pale scarlet, russet, charcoal- gray, light indigo, crimson and purple. In the depths of the subdued natural dyes and classical colors transmitted from the past lay dormant something bright which suited perfectly Heruko's tastes. However, some- thing was still lacking in using such colors for formal visiting kimonos, She felt this even more keenly when they were used for dance costumes, not to mention costumes for the ballad dance. Somehow or other the colors seemed too subdued to suit her, and she was inclined to feel rather depressed when she wore these costumes. A kimono expert’s knowledge came in handy at such times, and Mimatsu had this tosay: “White is the most extravagant color ofall, White silk does not last Jong. Even if you store the silk away in a chest, you can’t wear it for more than a year. No matter how hard you try to give it sufficient airing, the silk turns yellow. If you desire a lavish color, you should select white—especially white with an ink-painted design. Onc is then unable to remove the color and, more- ‘over, unable to redye the material. Nothing is more lavish than an ink painting on white. Nothing at all.” This may have been the resourcefulness of a businessman, not the knowledge of an expert, Nevertheless, Haruko felt that at long last she had discovered the secret she had long sought.Copyright (¢) 200 Copyright (c) Asahi Shimbun 352 Japan Quarterly “An ink-painted design,’ But...” Haruko was slightly troubled. An ink- painted design was actually a painting, not something which was dyed. One would certainly not want to have the rough sketch painted on white to be regarded as blue flowers. If one’s wish could be granted, one ‘would have a famous artist display his talent at wielding the brush by painting a rough sketch on material that was to be dyed. Haruko could not imagine an artist's having either the boldness or confidence to lower his brush onto a pure-white kimono material. Haruko then recalled that some time ago she had sent out an order for an ivy-design painted in ink on a reddish-lavender ground. “Didn’t I order that kimono from you?” “Let me see now...an ivy design, did you say? I don’t remember ever receiving such an order.” “Now I remember. Of course. I had placed the order with another kimono dealer. I'm sorry.” Laughing, Haruko told Mimatsu of her surprise when the ivy design was delivered. “They really looked like pumpkin leaves. The Icaves opened up like the palm of one’s hand and were simply gigantic. Now matter how 1 looked at the design, the leaves didn’t resemble ivy. Even if I were to describe them kindly, they were more like gourd vines. I returned the material, saying that I could never wear it. In its place, I bought an obi and some other things, so I ultimately paid dearly for that particular order. I suppose ink-drawn designs are difficult.” Mimatsu grew restless as Haruko rambled on, “You needn't worry. I’d never ruin an order. If you have any doubts, I'll have some ivy vines painted for you to examine.” “No ivy vines, please. Pine trees, bamboo, plum blossoms... Let me see now. How about some pine trees ?"* “Js the kimono to be used as a formal visiting kimono? Well then, I’ll sew some figured ratin around the hemline so that you Quest Information and Learning Company could use it as a dance costume as well. Would it be all right for me to have orchids painted in ink on the front and lining of the skirt?” “Tl let you decide that.” Haruko had not anticipated anything Mimatsu would be so enthusiastic about, and so she had considered Mimatsu’s first piece of work quite remarkable. She herself had been pleased with it, and when she stepped. out wearing the kimono for the first time, everyone she met complimented her, There- fore, she subsequently ordered a kimono with bamboo painted in ink from Mimatsu for the- first student recital of the Kajikawa School. “Please have it done by the same person.’ “As you wish.” Mimatsu was pleased. As soon as the kimono was finished, he delivered it in person. “['d like one with a plum-blossom design next. Have a touch of scarlet on the right sleeve with a few pink plum blossoms, a black ink-drawn design and white plum blossoms. Call the design *Free-Style’.” “That will be splendid.” Asexpected, Haruko had requested another kimono. A kimono with an ink-painted design had an extravagant effect, but a person never grew tired of wearing it. Whether she had a kimono on or not, she was enchanted with the painting which exhibited the artisan’s talent. When Haruko performed on stage wearing a costume with a design of plum blossoms, chrysanthemums, orchids and bam- boo, an old but famous writer appeared in the dressing room to rave over the kimono. “What a gorgeous tobe! Who painted the design?” Haruko had felt especially uncomfortable then, for present in the room was a profes: sional dancer of another school who at the time was bursting with pride over an over robe that had a design painted by a famous Japanese artist, However, a5 soon as she returned home she phoned Mimatsu. “Please tell the artisan who did the kimono-The Ink Stick 353 design that Mr. Oishi, the writer, was most impressed,” said Haruko, expressing her delight. “Ts that so? The old man will surely be pleased, To tell you the truth, he was at the recital today, though I didn’t tell you he'd be ‘there.”” “Where?” “At the Shimbashi Embujo Theater.” “The old man asked who it was that so -often requested ink-painted designs lately, so I mentioned your name to him. He then said that he had seen you once or twice on television. He wanted so badly to see you perform on the stage that I gave him my ticket,” “You should have told me. to mect the man.” “Do you mean that?” “After all, he’s done such beautiful work. T'd like to meet the artisan and thank him personally.” “That’s very kind of you. will be deeply moved.” I'd really like The old man “The old man, You keep referring to him as the old man.” Haruko began to take an interest in the artisan. “Is he really old?” “Yes, he is. He's over seventy.” “Goodness!” “He’s retired but he works. because he wants to. more outstanding kimono designs, though. That's why we overwork him as we do. He says that he can design as he pleases on your ‘Moreover, he insisted upon. kimonos alone. seeing your performance.” “Oh, why didn’t you introduce us?” Thinking about the kimonos she would be ordering in the future, Haruko wanted very much to meet the man who had worked so hard for her sake. Haruko’s tone gradually grew reproachful, whereupon Mimatsu re- sponded apologetically. “Please forgive me. along one day?” Copyright (¢) 2002 ProQuest Information and Learning Company Copyright (c) Asahi Shimbun There’s no one who can paint Shall I bring him “I'd appreciate that. his home?” “In Nippori.” “That’s the Shitaya district, isn’t it? It wouldn’t take very long to get there by car, would it? I'll call on him.” “Would you?” “Why, of course. Moreover, I'd like to- see where he works, It would be courtesy on. my part to visit a place where the man designs my kimonos exclusively, don’t you think?” “Tv'll be such a bother for you.” During a lengthy telephone conversation, the date and hour of the visit was set. Two days later, Haruko and Mimatsu got into a car and set out for Nippori, for Haruko’s nature—ever since her pampered childhood— was such that she would feel dissatisfied if her plans were not carried out. Traveling along a narrow street, the car turned one corner after another. Haruko, whose sense of direction was appallingly bad even under ordinary circumstances felt hope- lessly lost. “Here we are.” ‘Mimatsu jumped out of the car and opened the door on Haruko's side for her. One of the squalid little houses Lining the street had a new lattice gate that had been built with taste. The freshly-painted name plaque in vivid calligraphy which one could decipher as “Maeda” was written in an interesting run- ning style, An artist’s calligraphy has a fascination all its own, and Haruko imagined that the owner of the house had written it with his own hand. He had painted the designs on already more than ten of her Kimonos, and Haruko was struck by the fact that not one of them bore the signature of the artist. A painting or a work of calligraphy would be signed and sealed, but a painter of Kimono designs usually temains anonymous to his patron. “Tye brought Miss Harutoyo with me,” Mimatsu called out cheerily. Opening the lattice door, they found themselves in a narrow entrance. Though By the way, where is354 Japan Quarterly the building itself was very old, the entrance appeared to haye been renovated only recently. Having received a previous notice of their visit, the old man had been eagerly awaiting their arrival. He came rushing out to greet his guests. “Tt was kind of you to come.” Haruko was taken aback by the correct way in which the old man looked up at her. She suddenly thought of the elderly man—a member of tae managerial staff of the Kaji- kawa School—who greeted everyone in precisely this manner. One did not expect Kokichi to be familiar with the rules of protocol in the art of the Japanese dance, however. In spite of his age and gountness, the man stood tall. “Won't you please come in?” Getting up from a half-sitting position, the man stood before his guests to show them the way, tottering a little. Even after they had been ushered into the sixemat room in the interior and were seated on thin cushions, Haruko marveled that only a while ago, when she had met him at the entrance, he had appeared so remarkably dignified, “Is this where you work?” “I suppose you could say so, for I work in my tiny home. I like to spread my things out and paint, since the equipment necessary for kimono designing takes up considerable space. An ineredibly old woman came with tea and sweets on a tray. The tea cups and dishes were plain, but the color and aroma of the tea were exquisite. The Japanese sweets were from the Toraya. Having been told that Haruko would be coming, the old man had probably taken the trouble to go to Akasaka or Ginza to buy the sweets. How- ever, Haruko was impressed more by the manner in which the old woman, who was apparently Maeda’s wife, showed her age. The woman, who must have been petite to begin with, appeared to have shrunk as she ‘gtew wrinkled with age. Seated next to her Copyright (¢) 2002 ProQuest Information and Learning Company Copyright (c) Asahi Shimbun tall husband, the two were such a study in contrasts that Haruko’s expression uncon- sciously softened. “St was good of you to come. Thank you for your patronage. My, but you're beauti- full” ‘The rims of the old woman’s wide-opened eyes appeared white and moist. Haruko found it impossible to imagine what the old woman had looked like in her youth, A woman that age probably no longer fears getting older, thought Haruko. Maeda Kokichi did not introduce his wife to Haruko nor did he admonish his wife who gazed admiringly at Haruko. He seemed completely oblivious to his wife's presence. Greatly amused, Haruko wondered if the relationship between a man and wife even- tually came to this after living together for many years. There was a relaxed atmosphere which one did not expect in the home of a paint such superb ink paintings, and a guest visiting for the first time felt immediately at home. Kokichi had told her earlier that he used the entire house when he worked. Old design samples were scattered here and there, a bamboo brush holder in which several clean brushes had been inserted was placed on the shelf, and bamboo hooks were tied together with black string. In the midst of it all was a television set. “TI understand you attended the Kisenkat recital.” “Yes, I did. I had never before painted an ink design on a stage costume. I atlended the dance recital, for I wanted very much to see your performance,” “The design of plum blossoms, chtysanthe- mums, orchids and bamboo was a tremen- dous success, thanks to you. It was so out- standing a gentleman took the trouble to come to the dressing room to examine the kimono up close. Due to your efforts, my performance was remarkably beautiful.” “That isn’t so. The kimono was outstand- ing because the wearer was an expert in theThe Ink Stick 355 Japanese dance. I saw that with my own eyes. I'm about to begin painting the peony design you ordered.” Kokichi’s praise was hearifelt. He gazed admiringly at Harutoyo who was sated before him. He could not recall exactly how many kimonos he had completed since he first entered the kimono-dycing profession some fifty-odd years ago. At the time he had been determined to concentrate his full attention on each kimono. Because he had worked so diligently, he had been criticized by his fellow workers for being overly ab- sorbed in his work. There had been a num- ber of kimonos he had worked on as a young man on which, being too deliberate in wield- ing his brush, he had botched a stroke, thereby making the finished product seem in poor taste. Under the apprentice system, one learned the color-fixing technique from attisans who had earned the title “Master”; KOkichi had therefore suffered twice as much as the ordinary apprentice. His personality was such that he was unable to make hasty decisions, So intently had he listened to the words of his master and his foreman that he came to be greatly disliked. But Kokichi looked back over his long life and was satisfied that he had never taken a short cut nor had ever been careless with his work. ‘The ink-painting technique was his very own. In order to be counted among those born with artistic talent, Kokichi had studied Japanese painting to a certain point, even though he was a mere artisan. He had studied the basic works of Nanga painting under a master. However, the color-fixing technique was not necessary in silk-painting. ‘The special way he had of using egg yolk to grind the ink stick was the color-fixing method which he himself had originated, and it differed from the method of using water to grind the ink stick. Egg yolks had a viscosity which made it difficult for the brush to move freely in painting a design. Therefore, out of sheer necessity, he had invented a method of executing the brush strokes which took Copyright(c) 2002 ProQuest Information and Leatning Company Copyright (c) Asahi Shimbun into consideration the egg yolk’s viscosity. The painting on a kimono ordinarily lacked any strength of its own. Ivy leaves had assumed the form of pumpkin leaves because the brush had been carried off course by the egg yolk and had not been able to move freely. “This secret method has been transmitted exclusively to my disciples. However, Til share my secret with you. What I do is add a tiny drop of lemon juice.” “Do you actually squeeze a lemon?” “Yes, Ido. It’s difficult to determine the right amount, but once one succeeds, the yolk becomes so light that it’s a joy to work with.” The old man knew very well that a topic like this could not hold the interest of a professional dancer. But then he would not have divulged to anyone else his secret me- thod. It was undoubtedly due to his intense excitement that he had revealed his secret so readily. Kokichi had been so enthralled watching Harutoyo performing on stage that he had been unable to sleep a wink that night. Strange as it may seem, he had never imagined that the kimonos he created all these years would be worn by women, Harutoyo's performance had been superb. Others in the audience had been strack breathless, but Kakichi felt his aged body tremble with excitement upon realizing that he had de- signed the kimono worn by the beautiful woman dancing on the stage. He had not been excited merely by the fact that a pecrless beauty was performing on the stage wearing the costume he had created for her; he was absolutely certain he had scen the design painted on the white figured satin drinking in Harutoyo’s vivaciousness, thereby giving the kimono a life-like sheen, His intense pleasure paralyzed his ancient body. He could actually feel Harutoyo’s life being transferred to the costume she was wearing. It pulsated and flowed into the tip of his rush and through his thin arms and aged356 Japan Quarterly body, causing his limbs to grow numb for some time as he sat in the theater seat with his eyes closed. K6kichi was just a kimono-dyer. When he was young he had not been in a position to select the work he enjoyed doing. His work was determined by the store that placed the order, and even now he was made to use a dyeing process resembling that of the Kyoto. Yiizen printed silk. K6kichi personally felt that ink painting was his forte. It was very much like the work one did in painstakingly applying dye with the tip of one’s brush and, like Nenga painting, an ink drawing was not the degree of darkness of the ink itself. The darker shades were the result of having ap- plied the ink two or three times over the same stroke. The force of the brush stroke was not lessened as one went over the rough sketch again and again. From his youth, Kokichi had used a variety of colors; at one time he had been partial to greenish-brown, at another, pale blue. Once he had even favored dark red. Nevertheless, in his old age he had come to consider the color pro- duced by the ink stick the ultimate in colors. He was now convinced that it did not consist merely of various shades of black. Mimatsu had once asked K6kichi to dye red some of the plum blossoms he had painted for Haruko. However, Kokichi had been terribly dissatisfied with the finished product. He felt that red was unnecessary, for he was doing an ink painting, When one saw white plum blossoms and those with petals painted black, the latter represented red plum blossoms. The ink alone sufficed to paint side by side red blossoms and white blossoms. The order to use all three colors— white, red and black—had been a difficult one. There wasn’t a country in the world where one could find black plum blossoms. Kokichi had vented his anger upon his poor wife as he worked to complete that order, During her visit Haruko told Kékichi how she had felt about each of the numerous kimonos he had created for her. Copyright (¢) 2002 ProQuest Information and Learning Company Copyright (c) Asahi Shimbun “My favorite is the kimono with the plum blossoms. Pine trees and bamboo are grace- ful ink paintings; their leaves, growing Juxuriantly, appear to wind about one’s body. However, plum blossoms, fragile though they seem, are very powerful. A person wearing a plum-blossom design finds her body grow- ing firm. The kimono I wore when I per- formed ‘The Yashima Court Ladies’ was truly magnificent.” Hearing Haruko’s comment, KGkichi rea- lized that his own feelings at the time he was working on the kimono had somehow pene- trated Haruko’s rich flesh; he was now more deeply moved than ever. On this particular day, Haruko was wearing a kimono with a splashed design. The deep purple kimono with a design of tiny white crosses now clung to her body, now fell free. Large geometric designs floated gently, obscuring somewhat the purple underneath. The sturdy Shioze obi with a white ground which she had worn that day was one Ko- kichi had presented Mimatsu with not too long ago. The aronia blossoms painted in ink were breath-takingly beautiful. A flat russet braid, used as a sash band, was most becoming. The color harmony was elegant indeed. Haruko noticed that even while Kdkichi spoke excitedly he glanced now and then at her obi. “This is the first time I’ve worn the obi. Isn’t it gorgeous?” beamed Haruko with obvious pride. It was not mere coquetry on her part that she revealed to the artisan her delight with his work. In the depths of his body which he thought had become a waste- jand, Kokichi suddenly felt a fountain of joy gushing forth. Haruko smiled happily. One could never have imagined that her classical features were capable of expressing such delight. Kokichi felt as though a giant Chinese magnolia had burst into bloom and was completely over- whelmed by its sweet fragrance. His throat choked with emotion.The Ink Stick 357 “Tt becomes you so well!" said Kokichi, barely able to utter these words. A puppeteer’s greatest pleasure is to hold a famous puppet head; a dance coach idolizes a talented dancer. For Kokichi, Harutoyo seemed to be the person he had waited for all his life. “Would you like to see my ink stick? It’s my only treasure,” said Kokichi, Just as a professional dancer equips herself with a variety of fans for each dance, Haruko wondered if the ink stick Kdkichi mentioned was one of a great variety he had collected. Kokichi fetched from the shelf of the adjoin- ing room—which was apparently his work room in view of the state of disorder it was in—a small paulownia box. It was so soiled and blackened that the writing on the cover could not be read, “This is the ink stick [ made up my mind to buy when I was thirty. I've been using it with great care for forty years, though it's now worn down to a mere stump and the inscription ground away.” Speaking apologetically in a near whisper, Kokichi lifted the cover. He felt extremely self-conscious about showing her the tiny stump. Mimatsu leaned forward to see for the first time the old man's ink stick. A quick glance at the purple material in which the ink stick was wrapped revealed a soiled scrap of material that could easily be mistaken for a rag. Though the material had been black- ened by the ink stick, some darkish imitation gold clung to it, bestowing upon it an air of dignity. Kokichi’s finger-tips were stained brown with nicotine, telling of the many years he had labored. The black matter bit obsti- nately into his fingernails which were trimmed. very short, Trembling, he opened the soiled wrapper with his dirty fingers. A dark mass, which resembled a mud pie, was exposed. “Oh” Haruko emitted this exclamation of sur- prise upon seeing at long last the formless ink Copyright (¢) 2002 ProQuest Information and Learning Company Copyright (¢) Asahi Shimbun stick, for she had always imagined that an ink stick had four corners like a rectangular toothpick box. “It must have been much longer in the past,” said Mimatsu. “Yes, it was. It used to be about this Jong.” Kokichi held his hand approximately three inches from the formless mass to illustrate its original size. “May I please see it?” Haruko reached out and took up with both hands the ink stick which was still partially wrapped up in the purple material. She placed her elbows very politely on her knees as though she were examining a tea cup, and studied the ink stick intently. The end which had been ground was flat and well-worn. It was the only part of the ink stick which ap- peared shiny. The subdued black of the ink stick exuded such charm that ons never grew weary of scrutinizing it. Haruko noticed admiringly that the color of the ink stick was not really black. Its simple form struck her as being indescribably beautiful. Narrowing her eyes, Haruko imagined its original shape; it had probably been just a lump resembling the formless mud pies children make at play. “What an exquisite fragrance!” K6kichi gazed with delight at Haruko who was savoring the stick’s fragrance as though she were inhaling incense. Mast people who study an ink stick are so lacking in refinement they will take it up directly from the cloth in which it was wrapped and finger it. The owner, who feared having his precious treasure handled more than absolutely necessary, would there- by be filled with anxicty. Moreover, the natural oil of one’s finger-tips which would adhere to the ink stick effected the design that one painted on kimono material. But in Haruko’s case she handled Kkichi’s ink stick very gently and K6kichi, enchanted by her good manners, gazed happily at Haruko. People who are well-informed are truly different. K6kichi was convinced that Haru-358 Japan Quarterly ko was fully aware of how dear the ink stick was to him. When Haruko returned the ink stick, Kakichi quickly wrapped it up once again in the purple cloth and put it away in the box, He hurried because Mimatsu was about to reach out for the stick, Kokichi had stubbornly made up his mind not to let anyone other than Haruko touch his treasure. Before Mimatsu could utter a word, Kokichi began to speak. “T obtained this ink stick before the Great Earthquake of 1923. At the time I was about thirty and was quite inexperienced, One hundred cighty yen was a huge amount of money then, I borrowed money from different sources and finally managed to buy the ink stick,” “A hundred and eighty yen. What a lot of money that was before the Earthquake! You really must have felt as if you were risking your life when you bought it.” “During the Earthquake, the only object I took with me when I fled was this ink stick. It was a lot longer then, and the inscription on it could still be made out.” “What is the ink stick called?” “Fang Yu-lu. Idon’t know what it means, but even among T'ang ink sticks* it is con- sidered to be of a superior quality. I've been asked time and again by teachers of calligraphy if 1 wouldn’t sell it to them,” Kokichi explained proudly. “Fang Yu-lu. What a difficult name! Is it really a T’ang ink stick?” “People call dried mullet “T’ang ink stick,” don’t they? It’s probably because its shape reminds one of an ancient Chinese ink stick.” “T suppose you're right.”” “Once a person uses a T'ang ink stick, he’ll find it impossible to use a Japanese ink stick or an imitation of a Chinese ink stick. A. Japanese ink stick differs greatly in both color and fragrance, and after a work is completed one feels as though one has lost *Ink sticks which date from about the T'ang Period (618-907). Copyright (¢) 2002 PraQuest Information and Learning Company Copyright (c) Asahi Shimbun one’s skill. I kept telling myself that it was too extravagant, but I’ve used it for forty years.” “My elaborately-designed kimonos pro bably used up a considerable amount of your ink stick, didn’t they?” “I must admit they did, but I've used the ink stick unstintingly for your kimonos.” Feeling rather embarrassed, KOkichi rub- bed the paulownia box with the palm of his hand, He remained silent for a moment, then blurted out, “When this ink stick is used up completely, my life will be extinguished.” After saying these words, K6kichi lifted his head. His wrinkles relaxed as he laughed cracklingly. The noisy laughter, which con- trasted greatly with his polite words, made one think that he had been transformed into another person. Haruko cringed instinc- tively. However, several days later all she could remember about Kokichi were his final words and the laughter that followed, “When the ink stick is used up, Kokichi’s life probably will be extinguished...” Mimatsu had come directly from Macda Kadkichi’s home to show her the ink-drawn cherry blossoms. “The ink stick must have grown shorter,” commented Haruko. She was more concerned about the short life remaining for Kékichi than the amount of the ink stick used up in painting over 8,000 blossoms, Mimatsu drew the silk to his breast in silence and rolled it back onto the bolt. Returning the charred paulownia stick to the mirror stand, Haruko relaxed and felt as though she had been relieved of a heavy burden. With her carefully-lined eyes, she gazed vacantly at the tatami where only a short while ago the figured satin had beer spread out. Because of the strong contrast between the white and the black, the image still seemed to- linger on the floor. However, the white and ‘black were reversed, with white blossoms blooming on black figured satin. The ring-The Ink Stick 359 ing of the telephone caused Haruko to gather her thoughts together. “Tt’s the dance master calling.” “The young master?” “Yes,” Whenever Haruko received a phone call from Kajikawa Enjurd, he would invariably mention a trip abroad. Having already heard about his tentative travel plans, Haruko knew what his business with her was. She sat up straight and took up the receiver. Just as she had expected, he had called to inform her of the decision he had made to go to China. The troupe was to set out early the following month. “Isn't it rather sudden? I thought you were thinking of going in the fall.” “We made the decision on the spur of the moment, Please join us; for we wouldn’t want to leave anyone out.” “Of course I shall. But...” “Yes, what is it?” “By China you mean Communist China, don’t you?” The dance master laughed at the other end of the telephone. “Then it wouldn’t do at all for the costumes to be too flamboyant, would it?” “You needn't worry about that. Just be your usual self. After all, it’s your troupe that will be representing the art of the Japanese dance?” “The troupe representing the art of the Japanese dance?” Haruko had been to America and Europe several times before, but this was to be her first trip to a communist country. She felt at a loss what to do. Having been a part of a closely-knit society in a conservative country, Haruko’s knowledge of the Chinese mainland was virtually nil. They were about to set out for China not merely as members of the Kajikawa School but as the troupe represent- ing the art of the Japanese dance. Haruko, who had turned thirty-seven, could not help growing tense. The words “the art of the Japanese dance” had immediately been as- Copyright (¢) 2002 ProQuest Information and Learning Company Copyright () Asahi Shimbun sociated in her mind with the cherry blossoms she had seen a while ago, thus betraying her age. In going over the repertory, the dance master mentioned that it would include a shortened version of the Di dance, so late that night Haruko phoned Mimatsu, “The decision has been made to go to China. We'll be leaving on the first of next month.” “A rather sudden decision, isn’t it? ‘Whereabouts in Nationalist China?” “This time we're not going to Nationalist China, We're going to the Chinese main- land.” “Oh? During the war I was stationed in central China.” “Really? We'll be performing mainly in Peking and Shanghai, We may also be presenting a one-day performance in Can- ton.” “Splendid! What do you intend to do about your wardrobe?” “That’s why I'm calling. Please have a kimono with that cherry-blossom design on cotton sewn for me. I may have an oppor- tunity to use it as a dance costume.” “Oh, weren’t you planning to use it as a dance costume?” “No, I wasn’t.” “But the old man intended to have it used on stage. That’s why he made the sleeves slightly longer.” “Is that right?” “Shall I have him hurry with the peony design? The peony is the national flower of China, you know.” “Splendid. Thank you for thinking about it.” The kimono with the peony design in ink was delivered to Haruko on the eve of her departure. Because the troupe had been practicing frantically to the last minute at the dance master’s house, Haruko, unable to examine it carefully, had her pupil pack it in her suitcase, It was only after arriving in Peking that Haruko studied the kimono with the peonies, “In her hotel room Haruko360 Japan Quarterly unpacked the kimono and pulled out the basting thread. “Oh, how lovely!” exclaimed a dancer who ‘shared the same room as she admired the peony design spread out on the bed. “It’s the first time I’ve had a chance to look at it. It's not bad at all,” said Haruko, proudly expressing her pleasure. That evening a reception was hosted by the Association for the Advancement of Foreign Culture. Haruko’s kimono stood out from among the gay colors worn by the other members of the troupe and the ink design was truly outstanding. The Chinese first of all were impressed by the fact that the Chinese tradi- tion of Nanga painting had been so well digested in a modern Japanese kimono de- sign. As each one she met complimented her on the beauty of her kimono, Haruko really felt like a leading dancer. “Thank you, Kokichi, What satisfaction you'd feel if you knew how the Chinese admired your work,”” She had forgotten completely that Mimatsu was the one who had remembered that the peony was China’s national flower and that it was he who had had Kokichi hurry to complete this kimono. Whenever Haruko thrust her arms into the sleeves of the kimono, she thought of Kdkichi and addressed him as though he were right there, Haruko"s conception of what mainland China was like helped an old-fashioned dance expert like herself select prudently outfits to be worn while traveling abroad. She had excluded bright colors as much as she could. Besides the peonies and cherry blossoms, there were several other kimonos with ink- painted designs. Her kimonos gave her the dignity expected of a leading dancer, thus the effect was impressive. Haruko was the only member of the troupe who was called upon by artists who were experts in the art of Nanga painting. At various gatherings, Ha- tuko greatly regretted her lack of the other party’s expertise. She was therefore unable Copyright(c) 2002 ProQuest Information ancl Learning Company Copyright (¢) Asahi Shimbun to respond intelligently and could not help feeling inwardly bewildered. “The man who painted this design is not an artist. He's just an artisan who does the rough sketch on dyed material. Though he has a feeling for painting, he has not studied art as a specialist. Nor does he paint land- scapes. I was most impressed when I met him in person...” Haruko began to talk about Maeda Ko- kichi. Forty years ago he had boldly made up his mind to buy an expensive ancient Chinese ink stick. “T’ang ink sticks are expensive even in China,” said an old man who walked up to Haruko. “Could one buy an ink stick if one wanted to?” “Well, if one searched hard enough, one might succeed in finding some, but none of the ink sticks would be in its original form. All of them are used—some only partially, some almost entirely. Others may even be broken in two.” “Where are ink sticks sold?” Haruko leaned forward eagerly, for she thought of Kokichi’s tiny ink stick. She remembered his having stated that when the ink stick was completely used up, his life would be snuffed out. Haruko grew excited. “There are a few at a store called Yung Pao Chi. You should try speaking directly to the owner.” The kind Chinese gentleman carefully described Yung Pao Ch’i to the interpreter. The daily schedule of the dance troupe in Peking was extremely hectic. When they were not performing, the dance master took the initiative and set out to visit the Revolutionary Museum and the People's Hall, and so there was hardly any opportunity to breathe in leisurely the spring air out in the suburbs. Even on the evening of the day they went to view the Great Wall of China, they were scheduled to get into their dance costumes for an evening performance. Lis- tening to Chinese folk tales and historicalThe Ink Stick 361 tragedies connected with the Great Wall and viewing the landscape, the dance master suddenly looked back at Haruko and asked, “Would you like to participate in the recital of the Kajikawa School this fall?” He was already enthusiastically planning the stage setting and dances. The night they went to see a film of the Shaohsing dance, T’ien hsien p’ei,* he summoned Haruko and three other disciples to his room and chatted excitedly about a new Japanese dance. “No one can keep up with the young dance master...” Even though everyone was exhausted, the young women went downtown as soon as they finished their lunch. They took photo- graphs and brought back delicate little objects which they showed one another. As she watched them Haruko suddenly realized rather fearfully the extent to which her body had deteriorated. “Considering the many dances you have to perform at each performanee, it isn’t at all surprising. Just let us know what you want, and we'll do the shopping for you.” “I'd really appreciate it.” Haruko would then select an object she found interesting from among the articles the young ladies brought back and would have them buy her another one just like it, She would sometimes even cajole one of the girls into handing over a white gem which had a particularly attractive cut, But as for Yung Pao Ch’, she felt that she simply had to go there in person, No performance was scheduled the day before their departure for Shanghai, Find- ing herself free until the reception scheduled for that evening, Haruko at long last made her way to Yung Pao Ch’i with the dance master, ‘The unusually spacious Yung Pao Ch’i was located on the street of stores specializing in old ink sticks and antiques. Paper for calligraphy, art supplies, cosmetics, ink sticks *A story very similar to the Noh play Hagoromo, Copyright () 2002 ProQuest Information and Learning Company Copyright (c) Asahi Shimbun and other odd items were onsale. The danee master had red ink pads put into containers and bought several hundred sheets of ex- quisite stationery made of parchment paper, saying that he would use them for greeting cards when he returned to Japan. “I'd like a T’ang ink stick.” The interpreter knew what Haruko wanted and spoke at length with the proprietor. “T'ang ink sticks are valuable items. Only a few remain. 1 understand they are not displayed in the stores and are not for sale. The ink sticks on display are old ones. Most of them date from the Ch’ing Period (1644— 1912) and they aren't really bad. If possible, he'd like you to choose from among them.” “T’d like some of the Ch’ing ink sticks, but won't you please ask him once more for a T’ang ink stick? I wish to present it as a. gift to the artisan who painted the designs on my kimonos.” Though Haruko was wearing an everyday kimono with a splashed pattern, she happened that day to have on the obi with the aronia blossoms. “Tell the proprietor that I want to present it to the man who painted this design. A T'ang ink stick with the inscription Fang Yu-lu was used to paint it” ‘The interpreter knew well the story of Kokichi’s ink stick, for he had accompanied Haruko during the first reception in Peking. He carefully related her story to the proprie~ tor. Hearing that the characters Fang Yu-lu had been inscribed on Kkichi’s ink stick, he looked at Haruko with eyes opened wide, then studied carefully the painting on Haruko’s obi. He quickly said a few words to the interpreter. “Ink sticks called Fang Yu-lu are famous even among ancient T’ang ink sticks. The proprietor has never dreamed that any existed in Japan.” ‘The proprietor said something and with- drew into the inner recesses of the store. “He's going to bring some out.” ‘The interpreter looked back at Haruko and362, Japan Quarterly smiled. A few minutes later the proprietor emerged carrying a red box. It scemed to be an old box of red lacquer with intricate designs. Both the carving and the design were magni- ficent. Haruko studied with interest the cover of the old box which was being dusted off by the proprietor, for having commuted only between the hotel and the theater, she had had very little opportunity to think of ancient China. The streets of Peking and the buildings with which they were lined were allnew. Haruko saw many sights of interest, but, apart from the food, she found it difficult to fully realize that she was in China. Today, however, having met the proprietor of Yung Pao Ch’i, she felt for the first time that she was seeing the China she had pictured in her mind. A variety of ancient ink sticks had been placed in frames made of old pieces of wood and were on display in the box. “He says that these are all T’ang ink sticks.”” Not a single one was in its original shape. There were some which were as tiny as the Fang Yu-lu in K6kichi’s possession. The largest one was about two inches long, and both the gold foil and its sheen had long grown dull, Even then, one was able to make out the character for 10,000 at the lower end of the ink stick when one studied it carefully. Haruko had tucked some tissue paper into her obi for no particular reason just as she was about to leave the hotel. She took out a sheet and ever so gently placed the ink stick on it, The proprietor, like Kékichi earlier, seemed to be pleased by her manners. Her handkerchief may have served the same purpose, but Haruko used the tissue paper instead, fearing that the perfume with which her handkerchief was saturated would be transmitted to the ink stick and would thereby interfere with the natural fragrance of the ink stick, Some of the ink sticks looked for all the Copyright(c) 2002 ProQuest Information and Learning Company Copyright (c) Asahi Shimbun world like mud pies made by children at play, such as the one Kokichi so treasured, but the ink sticks in this collection were varied in shape. Some resembled the Koto, giving one the impression that a wooden frame had been used to mold them, and others with intricate lines were diamond-shaped. There were also several on which poems had been carefully carved out on the surface of the flat ink stick and those where a T’ang genre painting could be made out faintly on a worn surface. However, they all differed from the minute designs on Ch’ing ink sticks and were crudely drawn. The sticks seem to have been kneaded into shape by the clumsy hands of the men of the T’ang Period and the designs made with their pudgy fingers. “Please ask him if I could have one,” said Haruko to the interpreter. “J'd like this one. Please ask him for it.” Haruko tried to buy one of the few re- maining large pieces.’ She was indeed bold, for she selected the largest and most magnifi- cent one of all. The interpreter was of course unable to suggest that she choose a smaller one. Though he did not appear very confident, he began to ask the owner for it in a low voice. He too was intent, since it was a request made by a guest who had come from afar. ‘The proprietor of Yung Pao Ch’i remained silent for some time, His face, with its broad forehead and wide eyes so very Chinese, revealed its age and appeared extremely dignified. At length he raised his eyes and looked at the aronia blossoms on Haruko’s obi. Hespoke to the interpreter, then turned to scrutinize Haruko's face with his piercing eyes. “He will present it to you to give to the man who painted the blossom.” “Hsieh-hsieh nin, hsieh-hsieh nin,” said Haruko, expressing her deep gratitude with the Chinese phrase she had just learned, much to the delight of the old man. “He says that you speak Chinese very well. He’s very pleased that you can.”The Ink Stick 363 The wrapping paper used by Yung Pao Ch’i was white. Printed on it in green were the characters for the store, a difficult poem, and a simple design. On the Chinese main- Jand, there seemed to be a paper shortage and even at the Tung-an market place not all the stores had decent wrapping paper. How- ever, as expected of a store like Yung Pao Ch'i, it had its own wrapping paper. Watch- ing the proprietor himself wrap up the T’ang ink stick, Haruko quietly consulted the interpreter. “How much is it?” “Pardon?” “What is the price of the ink stick?” “He said that he was presenting it to you,” “That won't do at all, Jt must be terribly expensive.” “Itis not an article for sale. I don’t think he can write out a receipt slip, since it comes from his private collection.” Haruko recalled that at every store she had visited, each article had an official price clearly indicated. For each article one purchased, a receipt was always attached. “Oh, but please ask him once again, It wouldn't be right for me not to pay for it,” Haruko repeated her request. “A Tang ink stick, did you say? Splendid. May I have one also?” ‘The dance master, carrying a bundle of red ink pads, interrupted their conversation. However, the proprietor of the store stopped wrapping the ink stick and quickly closed the lid of the red lacquer box. “He refuses to sell any more,” laughed the interpreter. “That’s too bad,” said the dance master, smiling wryly, but he did not persist. As tequested by Haruko a moment earlier, the ‘nterpreter continued to ask for the price, “Bu yao,” said the owner and shook his Lead, ignoring the interpreter. When he finished wrapping the ink stick, the proprietor gazed directly into Haruko’s eyes, then pointed to her obi. “A Friend for 2,000 years.” Copyright (¢) 2002 ProQuest Information and Learning Company Copyright (c) Asahi Shimbun The interpreter translated what the pro- prictor had said. In the train Haruko turned to the dance master and queried, “Have T’ang ink sticks been in existence for 2,000 years?” “When the proprietor said 2,000 years, he meant the history of friendly relations be- tween Japan and China. He wasn’t speaking only of the ink stick,” explained the dance master. “Now I have the perfect gift for KOkichi. T’ve been so worried about him.” When she presents this magnificent ink stick to Kékichi who had said that his life would be extinguished as soon as his ink stick was used up, he'll probably be deeply moved. He'll realize that he could add this ink stick to the life of his tiny one and be struck speechless. No matter how many kimonos he designed with his brush, Kékichi would surely live a long life. Haruko was satisfied that she had found the perfect gift. She felt that her good will could be expressed with this gift. Though the dance master had explained to her the words spoken by the proprietor of Yung Pao Ch’i, Haruko did not quite grasp the full meaning of “a friend of 2,000 years.’” Nevertheless, she felt that she must certainly transmit these words to Kokichi. She simply had to, for it seemed that these words which had been transmitted through 2,000 years of history would serve well to inspire Kékichi who imagined that his life was soon to end. Mimatsu was at Haneda Airport to wel- come her back. “The trip must have been exhausting, I hear the tour was a great success. Con- gratulations!”” It was such an ordinary greeting that Haruko didn’t eyen bother to respond. “I've brought back an ink stick,” said Haruko rather abruptly, “What was that?” “I brought back a T’ang ink stick for K6kichi.” “A Tang ink stick? How thoughtful of364 Japan Quarterly you. The old man will be delighted!” “Please come for it some time tomorow, since it's packed away in my suitcase.”” “['ll do that. Did you really manage to get a T’ang ink stiek? How pleased the old man will be! You’ve selected the perfect gift for him. Thank you.” Mimatsu was as pleased as though the gift were for himself. The next day he arrived at Haruko’s home shortly before noon. Haruko was seated at the dining table having her dinner. Since it was her first Japanese meal in a long time, she was relish- ing especially the home-made pickled vegeta- bles and soybean soup. As Mimatsu looked on, she helped herself to several bowls of rice. “I guess you think I have a huge appetite.” “I think it’s splendid. When it gets warm, ‘we must take good care of our health as well as our work,”” “ft was already summer in China.” “Really? By the way, how did you like the kimonos with the ink designs?” “Speaking of kimonos...” Haruko hurriedly gulped down the last of her tea. “I must see the old man once more and tell him about them. They were admired where- ever I went.” Haruko had intended merely to touch upon the subject of the kimonos, but as she spoke she was carried away by her enthusiasm. As aresult, she told Mimatsu everything, relating in such detail what had happened at Yung Pao Ch’i that she doubted she could ever repeat the story in quite the same way. “(IL have to tell the old man right away. He'll be deeply moved.”* “E wanted personally to tell him all about his kimonos, but I’m terribly exhausted and from tomorrow I'll be very busy. Please give him my best regards.” ‘Once Haruko had finished telling her story, her desite to see Maeda Kdkichi was dam- pened considerably. It was early summer and in Japan it was already hotter than usual for this time of year. The dance master, Copyright (¢)2002 ProQuest Information and Learning Company Copyright(c) Asahi Shimbun intending to organize a grand performance to commemorate their return before the hot weather set in, was busily making arrange- ments for a Japanese dance based on T'ien hsien p’et by calling together lyricists and composers. Haruko therefore had neither time to call on Kokichi nor time to have him come for a leisurely visit. Kékichi was far from dissatisfied. He, of course, had known that Haruko was going to China. For her trip he had strained himself to complete the peonies in ink. For years Kokichi had never heard from those who wore his creations and never dreamed that he would be able to hear from Haruko about her trip. Therefore, he did not know the reason for all the commotion when he heard Mimatsu calling loudly from the en- trance, all but running in, “Mr. Maeda. Here’s a gift for you from Harutoyo. Look, it’s a T’ang ink stick.” Mimatsu had probably wanted to surprise Kokichi, He quickly unwrapped the Yung Pao Ch’i wrapping paper upon entering the house and thrust the ink stick under Kokichi’s nose. A sharp but faint whistle sounded at the back of Kokichi’s throat. Stretching out both hands, he took up the ink stick. His hands were shaking so hard the ink stick appeared blurred. ‘Mimatsu exaggerated a bit and told Ko- kichi how well-received his kimono designs were in China and the details of Haruko’s bargaining for the ink stick at the Yung Pao Ch’i just as Haruko herself had earlier related her experience to him. Kékichi, nodding his approval at each pause, said, “Is that so? And then what happened.” However, he was not listening attentively to Mimatsu’s excited chatter. He was completely over- whelmed. He had never dreamed that this could happen. The Fang Yu-lu ink stick which Kokichi treasured was stored away as one would a precious possession, Both the purple cloth and the paulownia box which was blackened by thumbprints appeared rather imposingThe Ink Stick 365 and most appropriate for wrapping up a T'ang ink stick. The ancient ink stick in Kokichi's hand was as old as his Fang Yu-lu, but the wrapping paper was new and hard to the touch, When he passed it from one hand to the other, the paper made a rustling sound. KOkichi gazed intently at the ink stick for what seemed an eternity, not at all tiring of looking at it. He was completely overcome by his emotions. Never had he imagined sucha thing could happen. Never. Mimatsu had not told him what the in- scription said, nor did Kokichi ask, The value of this precious ink stick had not moved K6kichi as much as the knowledge that Haruko had personally found and obtained for him this article in Peking, that faraway capital. K®kichi felt that it was Haruko who made his creations come alive. He tecalled that he had not forgotten Kajikawa Harutoyo since he had seen with his own eyes her superb stage performance. He was unable to forget that the life remaining in him which he felt had dried up completely had absorbed the energy that radiated from Harako’s body, turned into the ink painting on the kimono and danced grandly on the stage. Kakichi was determined to create more kimonos like that with the ink stick. He would work day and night at creating stage costumes for Kajikawa Harutoyo. Kokichi studied the character for 10,000 which appeared on one of the surfaces of the ink stick until it seemed to pounce forward. Ten thousand. There was no way in which he could read the character which had once been written below this character, However, he felt that he could actually see with his eyes worn with age the character that had been rubbed away. Surely it had been the character for flower which had been. written below in a beautiful hand never before seen by man. Kokichi was positive that the calligraphy had been as graceful as the dancing figure of Kajikawa Harutoyo. One was not very likely to find “Ten- Thousand Flowers’ as the name of a T’ang Copyright (¢) 2002 ProQuest Information and Learning Company Copyright (¢) Asahi Shimbun ink stick or an ink-stick inscription, but Kokichi was absolutely certain. He more- ever wondered how many flowers the ink stick had been used to paint as the character for flower was being ground away. ‘There was no reason for Kokichi to assume that in China the ink stick had been used in the dyeing process like his treasured one; the former owners had probably used it just to write characters, Nevertheless, Kokichi set his imagination soaring and believed that it had been used in such a process. In his mind’s eye, he could conjure up somewhere beyond the ink stick a great variety of flowers: daffodils, lilies, camellias, magnolias, kerria roses, azaleas, columbines, red poppies, peonies, wisteria and orchids, to name a few. Kokichi could see nearly all the flowers he could think of blooming in all their glory somewhere in the ink stick’s past, though all the ink stick had inscribed on it was the single character for “ten thousand.”* “Would you mind running an errand for me?” KOkichi had grown accustomed to calling out loudly to his wife who was hard of hearing, but he found it very annoying to have to raise his voice. “Hurry and fetch me two rolls of the finest silk gauze.” Kokichi then set out for a neighbor's house to get a freshly-laid egg. A certain family in the neighborhood kept chickens as a hobby, Probably because of the excellence of the quality of the feed, the viscosity of the egg yolks was ideal for grinding his ink stick. Kokichi had praised the eggs so highly that rather than resenting his asking for some, his neighbor would gladly hand them over. Out of gratitude, Kokichi was determined tocreate new kimonos for Haruko, Because Hatuko had just returned from her trip to China, Mimatsu had not received any order from her for a new kimono. Nevertheless, Kékichi had made up his mind to wield his brush to his heart’s content for Haruko. The summer was not unusually hot, but366 Japan Quarterly the hot and sticky days arrived earlier than usual that year. Even those normally blessed with good health were affected. by the fierce heat, and in the city it was so terribly hot the ait reeked of sweat and humidity. When the recital was over, Haruko all but fled to her summer home. There she spent her time leisurely, giving lessons only to those pupils who had also taken refuge from the heat in Karuizawa. This year, however, the intense heat had come to this distant summer resort and there were nights when even here one found it difficult to get any sleep. Fortu- nately for Haruko, it was just after that exhausting tour of China. Since the time the dance master had asked others to work ‘on the music and lyrics for T'iem hsien p'ei, he had sent no notice regarding rehearsals and seemed himself to be spending a lazy summer. When Haruko finally received a phone call summoning her, it was the time of year—according to the ancient calendar— shen one changed from silk gauze kimonos to unlined robes, Here in the Karuizawa highlands, the young dance master, beautifully tanned from playing golf, still seemed to glow from the praise he had received in China. “Lye been thinking of having a dance recital in the fall. It'll be silly to put on an extravagant performance requiring novel stage settings and flamboyant costumes. We ought simply to emphasize the dancing. All those performing will have to practice dili- gently, since the audience can’t be fooled. The only new number will be T"ien hsien pret, but if it seems less than outstanding, Pl not include it in the program.” Haruko was not about to express any opinion which differed from the master’s and approved in general his plans. From the time he had first mentioned the dance recital, she had made up her mind to take part in it wearing a new kimono with an jnk-drawn design. What sort of design should it be? Of course, she’ll have Kokichi, use the newly-acquired ink stick, She could Copyright(c) 2002 ProQuest Information and Lcarning Ci Copyright(c) Asahi Shimbun ng Company not conceive that he would ever use the ink stick which she had presented to him to fill anyone else’s order. Announcing her return home as she excitedly rushed into the entrance, Haruko noticed a pair of men’s shoes placed next to the stone step. “Mimatsu is here,” said her disciple. “You must have read my mind. I was just thinking of phoning you,” Haruko said gaily ‘as she hurried into the living room, The lingering heat of summer was still intense, so Haruko had gone out that day wearing silk gauze. Mimatsu, however, who was dressed formally in a suit and tie, sat in the room with a somber look on his face. “Please forgive me for not calling on you for so long.” “Qh, but didn’t you come to visit me in Karuizawa? You really needn't be so formal. Have you heard the latest? To- day the dance master announced that there is to be a dance recital in the fall. It’s just what I’ve been waiting for. After all, wasn’t J outstanding even in China because of my lovely kimonos? Please ask Kokichi to paint a new one for me with that ink stick...” Interrupting Haruko who in a single breath burst forth with her news, Mimatsu said, “The old man died.” “When?” “About ten days ago.” “Why didn’t you notify me?” “] wish I could have, but I myself received word of his death on the day of the funeral since I was in the Kansai area at the time.” “I can’t believe he’s gone.” Haruko had been all excited about a new idea she had come up with for an ink painting which she was about to send out to Kokichi, Rather than feeling disappointed, she felt spiritually bereft of all her energy. Hadn't the new ink stick been of any use? Had the old man’s life ended when he had used up his precious Fang Yu-lu, just as he had pre- dicted?The Ink Stick 367 “We realized that he was old and that he shouldn't overexert himself. We were very careful about the orders we had him fill. But the old man seems to have continued his work throughout the heat of summer, These kimonos were from material he de- signed for you.” “Really?” “There are two kimonos of silk gauze and two of figured satin, One of the kimonos of satin wasn't quite completed, though. I hear he collapsed while working on it.” “What was the nature of his illness?” “T guess it was simply old age, but he may have had a paralytic stroke. They say he thought clearly and spoke lucidly. He also stood up straight and tall until the day before he died.” “Isn’t it moving to think that the old man had painted the designs out of gratitude? I hurriedly had them sewn into kimonos. Please look over the designs in remembrance of the old man,” Mimatsu removed the wrapping paper. The first kimono which met her eyes was of silk gauze, There was no design on the neckline and shoulders, but stately hollyhocks were drawn. closely around the skirt. The flowers of white and varying shades of black were in full bloom. It was impressive to behold the strength of the flowers blooming resolutely between the grass and leaves, undaunted by the heat of summer, “Tf only the old man had notified me sooner—the kimonos could have been sewn in time for this summer. Now you'll have to wait until next summer.” Standing before Haruko, who was so moved she could not utter a word, Mimatsu voiced his deep regret. A while later, he removed the wrapping paper containing the second kimono. “I thought it'd be a shame if you could not wear it at all, so I took the liberty to have this lined kimono sewn. Even though it may be straining things a bit, you can wear the kimono in September, since the real Copyright (¢) 2002 ProQuest Information and Learning Company Copyright (c) Asahi Shimbun season for flowers is summer.” There before her was a kimono of light black organza lined with white silk gauze, a lined kimono which could be worn at about the same time as an unlined kimono. The organza and the silk-gauze lining matched perfectly and, embossed on the organza, was a faint design—a delicate wave-like design resembling the grains of wood which now dipped, now floated, Here and there on the sleeves, and increasing in number approach- ing the hemline, gigantic hydrangeas were in full bloom. By covering with black organza the ink painting on the silk gauze lining, the effect was far more colorful than even Mimatsu had envisioned, and the hydrangeas seemed to flicker in the colors of the rainbow. “How gorgeous!” sighed Haruko. “There's one more,”” Mimatsu removed the wrapping paper of the last kimono. The design was of a boldly-drawn flower cart on finely figured silk. The cart had two huge wheels of black lacquer, a carriage shaft and a lattice body. However, the flowers with which it was gaily decorated were not the usual seven herbs of autumn. Irrespective of the seasons, a variety of flowers were in bloom. There were flowers which even Mimatsu was unable to identify. Peonies, cherry blossoms, red holly- hocks, irises, trumpet flowers, and morning glories had been painted extravagantly. The delicate shades of ink made one feel that different fragrances were intermingling to such a degree that one grew dizzy. If the kimono design were to be given a name, the only suitable one would be “A Myriad Flowers in Gay Profusion.” Mimatsu silently studied Haruko’s face. He seemed to be waiting to hear her reaction. As for Haruko, she was lost in a daze. Though her life should be as rich and as full as any woman's, it could not compare: with. the glory of the flowers painted on this Kimono. She was completely overwhelmed. This kimono could not be worn by a368 Japan Quarterly person who was not ready for it. Ifa dancer who was not talented enough were to put it on, her body would probably be crushed under its weight. Even now, as she con- templated the magnificence of the kimono, Haruko was more determined than ever to participate in the autumn recital, Haruko felt at this moment that Kokichi’s life was. now coursing through her body. Mimatsu appeared rather impatient with Haruko who remained speechless for what seemed an eternity. “The old man left behind a final request that we not burn the ink stick. They put his precious ink stick—of which there re- mained a mere stump—in the casket together with his body which was later cremated. His wife thought it would be a shame to leave your ink stick on the Buddhist altar and entrusted it to me. She asked me to return it to you, Of course it would be another matter if you feel uneasy about taking it back.” Kokichi’s Fang Yu-lu had been wrapped up in a piece of purple cloth, but the ink stick which Haruko had given him as a gift was wrapped up in fine figured satin which had been sewn into a small scarf. The old man had apparently put it away carefully after cach use, for the figured satin was only slightly soiled and dazzled so that it hurt ber eyes, The satin had a fine sayagata design ‘on which plum blossoms, chrysanthemums, About the Author orchids and bamboo were drawn, Taking the scarf from Mimatsu, Haruko revealed the ink stick and studied it. Not very much of the ink stick had been used in spite of the number of flowers it had painted. However, when she looked more carefully, the character for ten-thousand had disap- peared and only the grass radical could be seen ever so faintly. ‘Was there another meaning for the missing part of the character? Haruko pondered over it for some time but could not think of asingle one. She did recall other characters containing the missing part of the character and remembered hearing on some occasion that one of the characters meant “temporary dwelling.” “T'll keep the ink stick.” Haruko said this not only to Mimatsu but to herself as well. If the old man’s sorrow and regret still lingered, it would certainly be ‘unpleasant. Haruko took back the ink stick ‘because she sincerely believed that in order to wear the kimonos painted with the flowers and to perform well, she must cherish in het heart the very soul of the ink stick. The ink stick which she held in her hand suddenly grew heavy. Haruko imagined that Ko- Kichi’s good will could still be seen in the grass Tadical which had not been rubbed away. Translated by Mildred Tahara with the assistance of Takagi Kiyoko Ariyoshi Sawako (b. 1931) has been widely acclaimed in Japan as an extraordinarily talented and prolific woman writer of short stories, novels ‘and plays. A number of her works, beginning with The River Ki (Kinokawa, 1959), are set in Wakayama Prefecture and are rich in local color. Others take up serious social problems, such as racial prejudice in America in Not Because of Color (Hishoku, 1963), the sad plight of the aged in Twiligdt Years (Kokotsu no hito, 1973) and the dangers of rampant pollution due to modern industrialization in Compound Pollution (Fukug6 osen, 1973), Despite her hectic schedule ‘Though fond of and well-versed in the classical as a writer, she has been very active in the theater. Copyright (¢) 2002 ProQuest Information and Learning, Company Copyright (c) Asahi Shimbun -The Ink Stick 3e8 Noh, Kabuki and Bunraku drama, Ariyoshi has developed a keen interest in contemporary British and ‘American plays. In the fall of 1972, she successfully translated and directed Father Daniel Berrigan’s antiwar play, “The Trial of the Catonsville Nine.” A few of her short stories and novels have been adapted for the stage, among them Flowers and Incense (Kage, 1963), The Wife of Hanaoka Seishi (Hanaoka Seisha no tsuma, 1966), Izumo no Okuni (1967) and Managoya Ominé (1974). More recently, she has been hard at work on her first musical, Yamabike monogatari, which is based on Japanese folk tales, ‘Nevertheless, the author—in her writing and in her private life—maintains a genuine interest in the traditional culture of Japan, especially that of the Edo Period. Her love and admiration of the exquisite art of kimono design are expressed in her story The Ink Stick (Sumi, 1961) which centers upon an artisan’s lifelong dedication to his art. Other works by the writer which have been translated into English are Prayer (Kitd, 1959), The Village of Eguchi (Eguchi no sato, 1958) and Jiuta (1956) and may be found in Japan Quarterly, Vol. VII, No. 4; Vol. XVII, No. 4; and Vol. XXII, No. 1. CD Copyright(c) 2002 ProQuest Information and Learning Company Copyright (¢) Asahi Shimbun