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by Mizuno Kyoka · 2026-03-31
Actually, out of curiosity, I, a painter, used myself as an excuse to ask the renowned physician Takamine, along with my brother, to allow me to observe Countess Kibune's surgery at a Tokyo hospital one day.
That day, shortly after nine in the morning, I left my house and headed to the hospital. Upon arriving at the surgical ward, I passed by beautiful women, like ladies-in-waiting to a noble family, in the corridor. Among them was a seven or eight-year-old girl in a padded vest, and it seemed they were seeing her off.
Furthermore, along the long corridors leading from the entrance to the surgical ward, and from the surgical ward to the second-floor patient rooms, gentlemen in frock coats, military officers in uniform, people in haori and hakama, and ladies and young women were coming and going. All of them exuded an extraordinary elegance, moving as if weaving, passing each other or stopping. I recalled the carriages parked at the gate and nodded inwardly. Among them, some wore solemn expressions, others showed signs of worry, and still others seemed hurried, but none had calm countenances. The busy, rapid sounds of their shoes and zori echoed unusually within the hospital's high ceilings, wide fixtures, and long corridors, creating a grim atmosphere.
I entered the surgical ward after a while.
At that moment, the doctor whose eyes met mine was smiling, hands clasped, leaning back in a chair. He bore the immense responsibility that almost the entire upper echelons of Japanese society's joy and sorrow rested on the surgery about to begin, yet he was as calm as if he were about to attend a dinner party. Perhaps such a person was rare. There were three assistants, one attending physician, and five Red Cross nurses. Among the nurses, some wore medals on their chests, suggesting that some were of particularly noble birth. There were no other women present, only relatives such as counts, marquises, and viscounts. And the patient's husband, the Count, stood dejectedly with an indescribable expression.
Watched by those inside and worried over by those outside, the Countess lay on the operating table, wrapped in a pure white gown, as still as a corpse. Her complexion was pale, her nose high, her chin delicate, and her limbs seemed as soft as silk. The color of her lips was slightly faded, her pearly front teeth faintly visible, her eyes tightly closed, and her brows slightly furrowed. Her tied-up hair was disheveled on the pillow, spilling onto the table.
At the sight of that frail yet noble, pure and precious invalid, I felt a chill.
The physician sat in his chair with a calm expression, as if no emotion stirred within him. His composure was reassuring, but seeing the Countess's condition, my eyes were filled with increasing distress.
At that moment, the door quietly opened, and among the three ladies-in-waiting I had passed in the corridor earlier, a particularly striking woman entered.
She spoke to Count Kibune in a subdued voice.
"Your Excellency, the Princess has finally stopped crying and is resting quietly in another room."
The Count nodded without a word.
The nurse stepped forward before the physician and said,
"Well then, you."
"Very well."
The physician's single word of reply was tinged with a slight tremor. His complexion, too, seemed to have suddenly changed a little.
Now, any physician feels surprise and apprehension during an operation, and I expressed my sympathy.
After receiving instructions from the physician, the nurse turned to the lady-in-waiting and said,
"Well, since it's like this, could you, from you, just a little about that matter."
The lady-in-waiting understood the meaning, approached the operating table, and gracefully bowed, lowering both hands to about her knees.
"Madam, we are about to administer medicine. Please listen to it and count either the iroha or numbers."
The Countess did not reply.
The lady-in-waiting timidly repeated,
"Have you heard?"
She only answered, "Ah."
Pressing the point,
"Then that will be fine, won't it?"
"What, an anesthetic?"
"Yes, you must get some sleep, if only for a little while, until the surgery is over."
The lady thought in silence, then
said in a clearly audible voice, "No, I won't." Everyone exchanged glances.
The maid said, as if admonishing her,
"Then, Madam, you cannot be treated."
"Oh, it's fine if I can't."
The maid was speechless and looked at the Count. The Count stepped forward and said,
"My dear, you mustn't say such unreasonable things. How can it be fine if you can't? You mustn't be selfish."
The Marquis also interjected from the side.
"If you insist on being so unreasonable, we should bring the princess to see you. What will you do if you don't get better quickly?"
"Yes."
"Then, are you convinced?"
The maid was mediating in the meantime. The lady shook her heavy head. One of the nurses said in a gentle voice,
"Why do you dislike it so much? It's not unpleasant at all. If you doze off, it will be over quickly."
At this moment, the lady's eyebrows moved, her mouth twisted, and she instantly looked as if she could not bear the pain. She half-opened her eyes and said,
"If you force me so much, then there's nothing I can do. I have a secret in my heart. They say anesthetics make you dream, and I'm terribly afraid of that. Please, if I can't be treated without sleeping anymore, then I don't care if I don't recover, just stop."
The Countess feared that the secret hidden deep within her heart would leak out in her dreams, and she was determined to protect that secret even with her life. What would her husband, the Count, feel if he knew about it? If this story were told in normal times, it would undoubtedly cause a great stir. However, those who care for the sick cannot ignore anything. Nevertheless, the Countess firmly declared that she would not let others know her secret from her own lips.
The Count said gently, "Is there something you won't tell me, too?"
"Yes. I cannot tell anyone," the lady replied with strong will.
"Just because she inhales anesthetic, she won't say anything in a daze," the Count said.
"No, if I'm thinking about something this much, I'm sure I'll say it," the lady retorted.
"That's not true, don't be unreasonable," the Count said.
"Please, stop," the lady said, trying to turn over, but her sick body wouldn't allow it, and a grinding sound of her teeth was heard.
Amidst it all, only the doctor maintained a calm expression. He had regained his composure after the previous commotion.
The Marquis said with a grimace, "Kifune, it would be good to bring the princess to see her. Even I would yield to a child's cuteness."
The Count nodded and called out, "Aya!"
"Yes," the maid turned around.
"Bring the princess," the Count ordered.
The lady couldn't bear it and interrupted, "Aya, you don't have to bring her. Because without sleep, the treatment cannot be done."
The nurse smiled awkwardly and said, "We will make a small incision in your chest, so it's dangerous if you move."
"I'll stay still, I won't move, so please cut," the lady said.
Her innocence sent a shiver down my spine. This surgery today would probably not be something to watch with open eyes.
The nurse said again, "Madam, no matter what, you will feel some pain; it's not like removing a nail."
At this, the lady opened her eyes wide, composed herself, and made her voice clear and firm. "The doctor who will wield the knife will be Mr. Takamine, won't he!"
"Yes, he is the head of surgery. Even Mr. Takamine cannot cut without pain," the nurse replied.
"It's alright, it won't hurt," the lady said.
“Madam, your illness is not so light. It involves cutting flesh and scraping bone. Please bear with it for a little while,” the doctor said.
The doctor said this for the first time. If this was something unbearable, the madam showed no sign of surprise.
“I know that. But I don’t mind it at all,” the madam said.
“I believe it’s a serious illness, so I’m worried about what has happened,” the Count said with concern. The Marquis interjected, “Anyway, how about we postpone it today? We can hear the full story later.”
The Count said nothing, and seeing that everyone around agreed, the doctor interrupted. “Even a moment’s delay will be irreparable. You are underestimating the illness, which is why this is happening. Expressing emotions is a cowardly act. Nurse, please hold her down a little.”
Under the solemn command, five nurses scattered around the madam and tried to hold down her hands and feet. They followed the orders responsibly. They only needed to obey the doctor’s orders and did not need to consider other emotions.
“Aya! Come here. That!” the madam called out to her lady-in-waiting, gasping for breath.
The nurses hastily intervened, and the gentle lady-in-waiting said, flustered, “Please wait a moment. Madam, please be patient.”
The madam’s face turned pale, and she said, “Are you absolutely refusing? Then I will die even if I fully recover. I am telling you to proceed with the surgery as is.” She moved her slender, pure white hand, loosened her clothes slightly, and exposed her chest.
“Even if I’m killed, it won’t hurt. I won’t move at all, so it’s fine. You can cut,” she declared resolutely. Her expression remained unwavering, truly befitting a person of noble status, maintaining her dignity. At that moment, everyone around held their breath, and the silence was so profound that not even a loud cough was heard. The Countess looked as if she were dead, but Takamine lightly rose and left her chair.
“Nurse, the scalpel,” Takamine commanded.
“Yes,” one nurse replied, her eyes wide. Everyone was stunned and stared at the doctor’s face. The other nurse, trembling slightly, handed the sterilized scalpel to Takamine.
The doctor took it and approached the operating table with light footsteps. The nurse timidly asked, “Doctor, is it alright like this?”
“Ah, it will be fine,” Takamine replied.
“Then, I will hold her down,” the nurse said.
The doctor raised his hand to gently stop her, saying, “There’s no need for that.” At that moment, his hand had already cut open the patient’s chest. The lady clasped her hands on her shoulders, not moving an inch.
At that moment, Takamine spoke in a deep, solemn voice, as if making a vow: “Madam, I will perform this surgery with full responsibility.”
Takamine’s demeanor appeared sacred, an unusual sight that should not be violated.
“Please,” the lady replied with a single word, a faint blush appearing on her pale cheeks. She gazed intently at Takamine, not averting her eyes even from the knife approaching her chest.
At that moment, blood flowed from her chest, staining her white gown, like a cold red plum blooming in the snow. The lady’s face turned pale again, but she showed no surprise, not even moving her toes.
Up to this point, Takamine’s movements were as swift as a fleeing rabbit, without a single moment of hesitation. As soon as he cut open the Countess’s chest, everyone, including the doctors themselves, had no chance to utter a word. But at this point, everyone trembled, covered their faces, turned their backs, some bowed their heads, and I, like them, lost myself, feeling a chill down to my heart.
Three seconds later, his surgery progressed to a critical point, and when he felt the scalpel reach the bone, the lady let out a profound cry, shouting, “Ah!” She, who hadn’t even been able to turn over for twenty days, suddenly sprang up halfway like a machine, firmly grasping Takamine’s right arm with both hands.
“Does it hurt?”
“No, because it’s you, because it’s you.”
Saying so, the Countess weakly lay back, gazing at the national physician with cold, sharp eyes.
“But you don’t know me, do you!”
It was late when she said that. Takamine placed one hand on the scalpel he held and cut deep beneath the breast. The medical student watched, pale and trembling.
"I won't forget."
Her voice, her breath, her appearance. The Countess, with a joyful, innocent smile, released her hand from Takamine's. Then, she collapsed onto the pillow, and he saw the color drain from her lips.
At that moment, a silence spread around the two of them, as if neither heaven nor earth nor society existed. Everything had vanished, and only their world remained.