Dazai Osamu -Oblique Sun 3-3

　Ms. Uehara was reading a newspaper alone in her room. She was wearing a striped lined kimono and a dark blue kasuri haori.
"My wife is with my child right now, picking up rations.
　He said this in a slightly nasal voice and in a broken voice. He seemed to have mistaken me for a friend of his wife's. When I told her that I was Naoji's sister, she laughed. For some reason, I cringed.
Shall we leave?
　So saying, she pulled on her double loincloth, took out a new pair of clogs from the geta box, put them on, and quickly walked ahead of me down the apartment corridor.
　Outside, it was early winter evening. The wind was bitterly cold. It felt like a river breeze coming from the Sumida River. Mr. Uehara raised his right shoulder a little, as if he was fighting the wind, and walked silently toward Tsukiji. I ran after him.
　I entered the basement of a building behind the Tokyo Theater. There were four or five groups of customers in a long, narrow room of about 20 tatami mats, each sitting across from the other at a table, drinking in secret.
　Mr. Uehara drank sake from a cup. Mr. Uehara drank sake from a cup, then ordered another cup for me and offered me some sake. I drank two glasses from that cup and felt fine.
　Mr. Uehara drank and smoked and was silent for a long time. I, too, was silent. It was the first time in my life that I had been in a place like this, but I felt very calm and good.
You should have a drink.
What?
No, brother. No, brother, you should switch to alcohol. I used to be a drug addict once, and it gave me the creeps, but alcohol does the same thing, but people are more forgiving with it. Let's make your brother a drinker. Isn't that right?
I've seen a drunk before. I once saw a drunkard. On New Year's Day, when I was going out, a friend of my driver's was snoring loudly in the passenger seat of a car with a red face like a demon. When I screamed in surprise, the driver said that he was a drunkard and had no choice but to take him out of the car and carry him on his shoulders. He was limp as if he had no bones, but he was still mumbling.
I'm a drinker, too.
Well, you're not, are you?
You're a drinker, too.
No, you're not. I've seen a drinker before. It's just different.
　For the first time, Mr. Uehara smiled happily.
I've seen drinkers. Let's go home. You don't want to be late, do you?
No, I don't mind.
No, actually, I don't want to be cramped. Hey!　The bill!
Is it much higher? I've got a little on me.
Yeah. Well, then you'll have to pay.
I don't know if I have enough.
　I looked in my bag and told Uehara-san how much money I had.
I looked in my bag and told him how much money I had. You're being ridiculous.
　Mr. Uehara frowned and then laughed.
He frowned and then laughed, "Where would you like to go for another drink?
　I asked, but he shook his head seriously.
I shook my head seriously and said, "No, thank you. I'll pick up Tuxie for you, then you can go home.
　We walked up the dark stairs to the basement. Mr. Uehara, who was walking up the stairs first, turned around and kissed me quickly in the middle of the stairs. I kept my lips tightly closed and accepted the kiss.
　I didn't like Uehara-san in any way, and yet, from that moment on, I had that "thing" in my life. Mr. Uehara ran up the stairs, and I slowly climbed up the stairs, feeling strange and transparent, and went outside.
　After Mr. Uehara picked up Taxy, we parted ways in silence.
　As we drove away, I felt as if the world had suddenly become as wide as the ocean.
I have a lover.
　One day, feeling lonely after my husband's news, I suddenly said, "I know.
"Yes, I know. You are Hosoda, right?　Why can't you make up your mind?
　I remained silent.
　This issue came up every time something awkward happened between us. I thought to myself, "This is hopeless. It's like when you cut the wrong fabric for a dress, you can't sew it together anymore, you have to throw it all away and start cutting a new one.
"I don't think so, the baby.
　I was so horrified when my husband said to me one night, "I don't think so. Now that I think about it, my husband and I were both young. I didn't know what love was. I didn't even know what love was. I was so absorbed in the pictures of Lady Hosoda that I told everyone that if I became the wife of such a woman, I would be able to lead a beautiful daily life, and that marriage would be pointless unless I married someone with such good taste. Even so, I didn't know what love or romance was, and I didn't mind announcing my love for Lady Hosoda, and I didn't try to take it back, so things got so tangled that even the little baby that was sleeping in my belly at the time became the target of my husband's suspicion. After that, the baby died and was born, I fell ill and went to bed, and that was the end of my relationship with Yamaki.
　Naoharu must have felt some kind of responsibility for my divorce, because he said, "I'm going to die," and cried so loudly that his face rotted. I asked my brother how much he owed the apothecary, and he told me it was a frightening amount. When I asked my brother how much he owed the apothecary, he told me that it was a horrible amount, and I later found out that he had lied because he couldn't tell me the actual amount. I later found out that the actual amount was about three times as much as he had told me at the time.
I met Mr. Uehara. He is a good man. Why don't you and Mr. Uehara have a drink and play together?　Alcohol is not very cheap. I'll give you money for alcohol any time you want. And don't worry about paying the apothecary. I'll figure it out.
　The fact that I had met Mr. Uehara and had told him that he was a good man seemed to have made my brother very happy, and he immediately took the money from me and went to visit him that night.
　Addiction may be a mental illness in itself. When I praised Mr. Uehara, borrowed one of his books from my brother, read it, and told him what a great man he was, he said, "You don't understand, sister. My younger brother went to Mr. Uehara's every night with great enthusiasm, and it seemed that he was gradually turning to alcohol as Mr. Uehara had planned. When I secretly consulted with her about the apothecary's payment, she covered her face with one hand and sat still for a while, but then she looked up and smiled sadly and said, "There's no point in thinking about it. I don't know how many years it will take, but let's return a little every month.
　It's been six years since then.
　Evening glory. Oh, my brother must be in pain. He must be in a lot of pain, and he still doesn't know what he should do. He is probably just drinking himself to death every day.
　Why don't you take the plunge and become a real delinquent? Wouldn't it be easier for him if he did that?
　It was written in the notebook that there are people who are not delinquents, but now that you put it that way, I am a delinquent, my uncle is a delinquent, and even my mother seems to be a delinquent. Isn't badness a kindness?