At that time, I heard from Ms. Amano that there was a girls’ sewing school called Watanabe in Tokyo with a training system for sewing teachers. I asked them if they wouldn’t mind sharing a copy of their school regulations with me, and I got one. As my teacher had said, it was written that I would be awarded the qualification to teach at secondary school if I were to pass the national examination after a six-month intensive course and a one-year general course.

To realize this, I wanted to get to Tokyo and into school as soon as possible, so I consulted with my mother. Being now over sixty, with her aged eyes tearing, she begged, “Even though you have a secured path here with farming and the used garment trade, you want to go the extreme route through Tokyo? Let’s keep what we have, get along as best we can, and make our way here together.” Although I admonished myself as a “bad daughter” for the thought, I found this simply unacceptable. As the days passed, I grew impatient, stumbling around outside like a mental patient. Unable to stand it any longer, my mother finally assented; I could go to Tokyo.

However, my mother kept her strong dissatisfaction to herself, thinking ill of village life in those days. She made her decision, thinking, “My daughter would be made to marry the son of a farmer. If she were brought in among these people, her life would be one of miser…” From the anxiety sown in her heart, she now reaped a harvest of grief.

For the tuition fee, my mother was going to give me five yen every month from the two families with whom she was on good terms, and she sent me enough rice harvested from our field, umeboshi(pickled plums), and aka-miso(dark-brown miso) for six months. I was particularly eager to enter a course from which I could graduate in six months. I made my mother a solemn promise to do so before I went off to Tokyo.