The Setting Sun by Osamu Dazai

CHAPTER FOUR / LETTERS

I couldn't make up my mind whether to write to him or what to do. Then, this morning the words ofJesus - "wise as serpents and harmless as doves" - flashed into my head and in a sudden burst ofcourage I decided to write him a letter.

I am Naoji's sister. If you have forgotten me, please-try to remember

I must apologize that Naoji has again been such a nuisance and caused you such bother. (As amatter of fact, I cannot help feeling that Naoji's affairs are for Naoji to decide, and it is nonsensicalfor me to offer an apology.) Today I am writing to ask you a favor - not for Naoji but for myself. Iheard from Naoji that your old place was destroyed during the war and that you have since moved toyour present address. I had thought of paying a visit to your house (which seems to be very far out inthe suburbs from Tokyo), but of late my mother's health has been rather poor, and I can't possiblyleave her to go up to Tokyo. That is why I made up my mind to write you a letter.

There is something I would like to discuss with you.

The matter I have to discuss may appear extremely dubious from the point of view of the usual"Etiquette for Young Women," or even a positive crime, but 1 - no, we - cannot go on living as wehave. I must therefore ask you, the person whom my brother Naoji respects most in the whole world, tobe so kind as to listen to my plain, unadorned feelings and to give me the benefit of your guidance.

My present life is unendurable. It is not a matter of like or dislike - we (my mother, Naoji, andmyself) - cannot possibly go on living this way

Yesterday I was in pain and feverish. I was hardly able to breathe and felt at a complete loss what todo with myself. A little after lunch the girl from the farmer's house down the road came in the rain witha load of rice on her back. I handed over to her the clothes I had promised. The girl sat facing me inthe dining-room, and as she drank some tea she said, in a really down-to-earth tone, "How muchlonger can you go on by selling your things?"

"Six months. Perhaps a year," I answered. Then, half covering my face with my right hand, Imurmured, "I'm sleepy. I'm so terribly sleepy."

"You're exhausted. It's nervous exhaustion."

"You may be right." At this moment, as I stood on the verge of tears, the words "realism" and"romanticism" welled up within me. I have no sense of realism. And that this very fact might be whatpermits me to go on living sends cold chills through my whole body. Mother is half an invalid andspends as much time in bed as up. Naoji, as you know, is mentally very sick. While he is here he spendsmost of his time at the local drinking place, and once every couple of days he takes whatever money wehave from selling our clothes and goes off to Tokyo. But that is not what hurts me. I am afraid becauseI can so clearly foresee my own life rotting away of itself, like a leaf that rots without falling, while Ipursue my round of existence from day to day. That is what I find impossible to bear, and why I mustescape from my present life, even if it means violating the whole code of young ladies' etiquette. Andnow I am asking your advice.

I want now to make an open declaration to my mother and to Naoji. I want to state with absoluteclarity that I have been in love for some time with a certain man, and that I intend in the future to liveas his mistress. I am quite sure you know who it is. His initials are M.C. Whenever anything painfulcomes up, I am seized with the desire to rush to his house and die of love with him.

M.C. like yourself has a wife and child. He also seems to have women friends more beautiful andyounger than I. But I feel that I cannot go on living except by going to him. I have never met M.C.'swife, but I hear that she is a very sweet and good person. Whenever I think of her, I seem in my owneyes a dreadful woman. I feel, though, that my present life is even more dreadful, and no considerationcan make me refrain from appealing to M.C. I would like to fulfill my love "wise as the serpent andharmless as the dove," but I am sure that no one, not my mother or Naoji or the rest of the world, willapprove of me. I wonder about you. In short, I have no choice but to think things out myself and acthowever it seems best to me. The thought brings tears. This is the first thing I have ever had, and Iwonder if there is a way to carry it through to the congratulations of those around me. I have strainedmy mental powers as if I were trying to think of the answer to some terribly complicated problem inalgebra, until at last I have come to feel that there is a single point where the whole thing may beunraveled, and suddenly I have become cheerful