Two

by Osamu Dazai · 2026-04-29

The atmosphere in the room fell silent for a moment. In my heart, I blamed myself, wondering why I had told such a lie, but there was no turning back now. A slightly relieved expression appeared on the proprietress's face, but at the same time, a shadow of doubt flickered.

"Auntie, are you really okay? Someone will definitely bring the money. Until then, I'll help out here, so don't worry."

At my words, the proprietress looked a little surprised, but nodded with a somewhat happy expression. I took the boy off my back and let him play in the six-tatami mat room in the back, then started helping out in the shop. The boy was good at playing by himself, and soon he was playing quietly, smiling at the proprietress.

Around noon, the master returned after finishing his fish and vegetable procurement. The moment I saw his face, I quickly told another lie. The master looked surprised and opened his mouth to say something, but I continued, cutting him off.

"Don't worry about the money. I will definitely solve it."

The master stared at me for a while, but eventually nodded as if he understood little by little. His expression showed the conflict of whether to believe my words.

After that, while helping out in the shop, anxiety and expectation intertwined in my heart. Would the money really come, and would that person return? Looking at the boy's innocent smile, I tried to shake off those thoughts.

As evening approached, it grew dim outside the shop, and I checked the clock repeatedly. The promised time was approaching, but there was no news. While anxiety swelled in my heart, I spurred myself on, thinking I had to do something for the boy.

Just then, I heard the shop door open. I turned around to see that person standing there, looking completely drunk. His face was pale, his breathing was ragged, and tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at me.

"I'm sorry, I'm late. Please help me..."

His voice was trembling, and for a moment I couldn't say anything. I just supported his shoulder, feeling something crumble inside me.

"Oh? But madam, money is something you can't rely on until you hold it in your own hands," he said, surprisingly calmly, as if teaching me.

"No, it's really true. So, please trust me and wait just one day to make it public. Until then, I'll be helping out at this shop," I replied.

"If the money comes back, I don't need anything else," the husband muttered to himself, adding, "After all, there are only five or six days left in this year."

"Yes, so, um, I... Oh? We have customers. Welcome!" I said, smiling at the three artisan-like customers who entered the shop. Then, in a low voice, I asked, "Excuse me, auntie. Could you lend me an apron?"

“You’ve hired a beauty. This is amazing,” one of the guests said.

“Please don’t tempt her,” the innkeeper said in a tone that was half-joking, half-serious, and continued, “because there’s money involved.”

"A million-dollar racehorse?" another customer joked.

“Even for racehorses, females are said to be half the price,” I retorted, not to be outdone, as I warmed the sake.

“Don’t be so modest. From now on in Japan, whether it’s horses or dogs, it’s gender equality,” the youngest guest exclaimed, and continued, “Hey, sis, I’m smitten. It’s love at first sight. But you have a child, don’t you?”

“No,” the proprietress said, emerging from the back holding a baby boy, “This is a child we just received from our relatives. With this, we finally have an heir.”

“You’ve made money too,” one of the customers teased, and the host seriously muttered, “I’ve made color, and I’ve made debt,” then suddenly changed his tone and asked the customer, “What would you like? Shall I make a hot pot?” At that moment, I understood one thing. I nodded to myself, thinking, “So that’s how it is,” and outwardly, I casually carried the sake bottle to the customer.

That day seemed to be Christmas Eve, and perhaps because of that, customers kept coming in one after another without a break. I hadn’t eaten almost anything since morning, but perhaps because my chest was full of thoughts, even when the proprietress offered me something to eat, I refused, saying, “No, I’ve had plenty,” and simply worked lightly and diligently. It might be vanity, but the shop was unusually lively that day, and there weren’t just two or three customers who asked for my name or asked for a handshake.

But what would become of this? I had no idea about anything. I just laughed, matched the customers’ vulgar jokes with even more vulgar ones, slid from customer to customer pouring drinks, and all the while, I could only think that it would be better if this body of mine would melt and flow away like ice cream.

It seems that miracles do occasionally appear in this world after all.

It must have been past nine o’clock. A man wearing a paper triangular Christmas party hat and a black mask covering the upper half of his face like Lupin, and a beautiful, slender woman in her mid-thirties, came in together. The man turned his back to us and sat down on a chair in the corner of the dirt floor, but as soon as he entered the shop, I knew who he was. He was the thief’s husband.

They didn’t seem to notice me, so I pretended not to know and joked with other customers. Then the woman sat facing her husband and called out, “Sister, a moment.”

“Oh,” I replied, and went over to their table, saying, “Welcome. Are you here for drinks?” When I said that, my husband glanced at me from beneath his mask, looking surprised, but I lightly patted his shoulder and said, “Are you saying ‘Merry Christmas’? What do you say? It looks like we could drink another whole bottle.”

His wife ignored that and, with a formal expression, said, “Um, excuse me, ma’am, but I have something I’d like to discuss with the owner here, so could you please call him for a moment?”

I went to the owner, who was frying food in the back, and said, “Ohtani has returned. Please meet him. But please keep my presence a secret from the woman he’s with. Ohtani might feel embarrassed.”

“Finally, he’s here,” the owner said, seeming to largely believe my lie, even while half-doubting it. He seemed to simply accept that my husband’s return was somehow orchestrated by me.

When I reiterated, “Please keep my presence a secret,” he readily agreed, saying, “If that’s what you prefer, I’ll do so,” and went out to the dirt floor area.

The owner surveyed the customers on the dirt floor, then walked straight to my husband’s table, exchanged a few words with his beautiful wife, and then all three of them left the shop.

It’s all right now. Everything has been resolved, I somehow believed, and I was genuinely happy. I suddenly grabbed the wrist of a young customer, who was wearing a dark blue kasuri kimono and looked to be under twenty, and said, “Let’s drink, shall we? Let’s drink. It’s Christmas, after all.”