Three

by Osamu Dazai · 2026-04-29

In just thirty minutes, no, even sooner, surprisingly quickly, my husband returned alone. He came close to me and said,

"Thank you, dear. I got the money back."

"Oh. That's good. All of it?"

My husband gave a slightly strange laugh and said,

"Yes, just for yesterday."

"How much is the total so far? Roughly, with a big discount."

"Twenty thousand yen."

"Is that all right?"

"I gave a big discount."

"I'll pay you back. Uncle, will you let me work here starting tomorrow? Please, do! I'll work to pay it back."

"Oh? Dear, you're quite the Okatsu, aren't you?"

We laughed together.

That night, past ten o'clock, I left the shop in Nakano and returned to our home in Koganei with our boy on my back. My husband hadn't returned yet, but I was fine. If I went to that shop again tomorrow, I might see my husband. Why hadn't I noticed such a good thing until now? All the hardships until yesterday were ultimately because I was foolish and hadn't thought of such a brilliant idea. I wasn't bad at dealing with customers at my father's stall in Asakusa in the past, so I'm sure I can do well at that shop in Nakano from now on. In fact, I even received nearly five hundred yen in tips tonight.

According to my husband, since last night, he had apparently stayed at an acquaintance's house somewhere. Early this morning, he went to the bar in Kyobashi run by that beautiful madam, drank whiskey from the morning, gave an excessive amount of money to the five girls working there, saying it was Christmas presents, then called a taxi and went somewhere. After a while, he brought in Christmas cone hats, masks, a decorated cake, and even a turkey, called his acquaintances, and held a big party. Although he was always someone who didn't have money, the bar madam found it suspicious and discreetly questioned him. My husband calmly recounted what happened last night, so the madam, who apparently wasn't a stranger to Otani from before, thought it would be troublesome if it became a police matter and caused a big commotion. She kindly told him that he had to return the money, so the madam covered the cost herself and had my husband guide her to the Nakano shop.

The master of the Nakano shop said to me,

"I generally thought it would be something like that, but madam, you were very perceptive to notice that direction. Did you ask one of Otani-san's friends?"

He spoke as if he had anticipated my return all along and had come to this shop to wait for me. I smiled and said,

"Yes, of course."

That was all I answered.

From the next day, my life became completely different from before, becoming cheerful and enjoyable. I immediately went to the beauty salon to take care of my hair, bought a full set of cosmetics, had my kimono re-sewn, and even received two pairs of new white tabi socks from the landlady. It felt as if the heavy feelings in my heart had been completely wiped away.

I woke up in the morning, ate breakfast with my boy, then made a bento box, carried my boy on my back, and went to work in Nakano. It was New Year's Eve and New Year's Day, a busy time for the shop, so "Sacchan" of Tsubakiya, which is my name, was extremely busy every day, so much so that my head spun. My husband would also come to drink about every other day, make me pay the bill, and then disappear again. Late at night, he would peek into my shop and say,

"Shall we go home?"

he would say softly, and I would nod and start preparing to leave, and we often walked home together happily.

"Why didn't we do this from the beginning? I am very happy."

"For women, there is neither happiness nor unhappiness."

"Is that so? When you say that, I start to feel that way too, but then, what about men?"

"For men, there is only unhappiness. They are always fighting fear."

"I don't understand, I really don't. But I want to continue this life forever. The old man and old woman at Tsubakiya are very good people."

"They're fools, those people. They're country bumpkins. And they're quite greedy, you know. They let me drink, but in the end, they're trying to make a profit."

"Well, it's business, so that's natural. But isn't there more to it than that? You had an affair with that proprietress, didn't you?"

"A long time ago. How about the old man? Does he know?"

"It seems he knows perfectly well. He once said with a sigh, 'I've had affairs and accumulated debts.'"

"You know, it might sound pretentious, but I can't help but want to die. Since I was born, I've only thought about dying. It's better for everyone if I die. That much is certain. And yet, I can't seem to die. Some strange, scary god-like thing keeps me from dying."

"Because you have work."

“Work is nothing. There are no masterpieces or failures. If people say it’s good, it becomes good, and if they say it’s bad, it becomes bad. It’s just like breathing out and breathing in. What’s terrifying is that there’s a God somewhere in this world. There must be, right?”

“Huh?”

“There must be, right?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“I see.”

As I continued to go to Tsubakiya for ten, then twenty days, I realized that all the customers who came to that establishment were, in some way, criminals. I began to think that my husband was still on the kinder side. Not only the customers of the shop, but even the people walking on the streets seemed to harbor some dark secret or sin.

One day, a well-dressed woman in her fifties was selling sake at the back entrance of Tsubakiya. She clearly stated, “One sho for 300 yen,” which was cheap for the current market price, so the proprietress quickly bought it. However, it was sake diluted with water. I thought it was impossible for me to live without any dark secrets in a world where even such a refined-looking woman had to resort to such things. Could it be that, like in a game of cards, accumulating all the negatives and turning them into a positive is something that cannot happen in the morality of this world?

If there is a God, please come out! I was injured by a customer at the end of the New Year.

That night, it was raining. My husband didn't appear, but Mr. Yajima, an old acquaintance of my husband's, visited with a colleague. While drinking sake, the two spoke loudly, joking about how it wasn't good for Otani's wife to be working in such a place. I asked with a laugh,

“Where is that wife?”

Mr. Yajima said, “I don’t know where she is, but at least she’s more refined and beautiful than Sacchan at Tsubakiya.”

"I'm jealous. With someone like Mr. Otani, I'd want to be with him even for just one night. I like those sly types."

"This is why," Mr. Yajima said, turning to his companion and twisting his mouth.

By then, the reporters who came with my husband also knew that I was the wife of the poet named Otani. Some eccentric people even came specifically to tease me, and while the shop became livelier, my husband's mood worsened.

That night, Mr. Yajima and his companions finished their paper black market deal and left after ten o'clock. Since it was raining and my husband didn't seem to be showing up, I started preparing to leave, even though there was one remaining customer. I picked up my sleeping boy from the corner of the six-tatami-mat room in the back and carried him on my back. "I'll borrow an umbrella again," I whispered to the proprietress. Then, a thin, short factory worker-like customer, about twenty-five or twenty-six, who had remained in the shop, stood up with a serious face and said, "If it's an umbrella, I have one too. I'll see you home." This was the first time I had seen this customer tonight.

"No need to trouble yourself. I'm used to walking alone."

"No, your house is far. I know. I'm also from near Koganei. I'll see you home. Madam, the bill, please."

He had only drunk three bottles at the shop and didn't seem that drunk.

We rode the train together, got off at Koganei, and then walked side-by-side under a shared umbrella down the dark, rainy road. The young man had been mostly silent until then, but he started speaking little by little.

"I know. I'm a fan of Mr. Otani's poetry. I write poetry too, and I was thinking of showing it to Mr. Otani someday, but I'm just so afraid of him."

We arrived home.

"Thank you very much. See you at the shop again."

"Yes, goodbye."

The young man walked back into the rain.

Late at night, I woke up to the rattling sound of the front door opening, but thinking it was my husband returning home drunk as usual, I remained silent and stayed in bed. Then, I heard a man's voice say, "Excuse me. Mr. Otani, excuse me."

I got up, turned on the light, and went to the entrance. The young man from earlier was swaying so much he could barely stand upright.

"Madam, I'm sorry. On my way home, I had a few more drinks at a street stall, and actually, my house is in Tachikawa, and when I went to the station, there were no more trains. Madam, please. Let me stay the night. I don't need a futon or anything. The entrance platform here is fine. Just let me crash until the first train leaves tomorrow morning. If it weren't raining, I'd sleep under some eaves somewhere, but I can't in this rain. Please."

“My master isn’t here, and if this platform is alright, please,” I said, bringing two torn cushions to the platform.

“Excuse me. Oh, I’m so drunk,” he mumbled in a pained whisper, and immediately lay down on the platform. By the time I returned to my bed, I could already hear loud snoring.

And the next morning, I was easily taken by that man.

That day, I outwardly went to work at the shop as usual, carrying the boy on my back.

In the dirt floor area of the shop in Nakano, my husband was reading the newspaper alone, with a glass of sake on the table. The morning sunlight hit the glass, and I thought it looked beautiful.

“Is no one here?”

My husband turned to look at me and said, “No. My father hasn’t returned from purchasing yet, and my grandmother seemed to have been in the kitchen just now, but isn’t she here?”

“Didn’t you come last night?”

“I did. Lately, I can’t sleep without seeing Satchan’s face from Tsubakiya, so I peeked in here after ten o’clock and was told she had just left.”

"And then?"

“I stayed here. The rain was pouring down.”

“Perhaps I should start staying at this shop from now on too.”

“That would be fine.”

"I will. There's no point in renting that house indefinitely."

My husband silently returned his gaze to the newspaper.

"Oh, they're writing bad things about me again. 'A fake aristocrat of Epicureanism,' they say. Honestly, it's completely off the mark. Wouldn't it be better to say, 'An Epicurean who fears God'? Look, Sacchan, it says here that I'm inhuman. That's not true, is it? I'll tell you now, but at the end of last year, I took five thousand yen from here because I wanted you and our boy to have a good New Year for once with that money. So I'm not inhuman; I can do things like that."

I wasn't particularly happy, but I just said,

"It's fine even if you're inhuman. All we need to do is live."