I was twenty-one years old. During those days, I had been enjoying school life and dreaming about a bright future, when suddenly a shocking letter came from my hometown. It said that the heavy national tax levied as a result of the upheaval of the Russo-Japanese war, was weighing heavily on the lives of every family, and day by day it was becoming more and more difficult to get by. Henceforth my mother would be unable to get the monthly five yen for my tuition from our two neighbors and there was no alternative but for me to quit school and return to the village. In the letter, my mother requested that I come back home as soon as possible.

At that time, I had rented a two-mat room on the second floor of a candy store in Misaki-cho, Kanda. I was getting along with a hand lantern instead of an electric light. As for meals, I had only the rice, miso, and umeboshi which my mother sent from home every month. I had miso soup in the mornings and evenings, with only the umeboshi on the side for lunch.

That’s where I found myself when I got word that the monthly stipend would be cut off and that I was summoned home immediately. I felt empty and on the verge of despair, but at the same time, despite the miserable situation, a grim courage welled up inside me. “I don’t know how long I will be struggling along this road, but, since infancy, together with my mother, I had made perseverance a lifestyle. Not only would I continue to remain steadfast in the face of hardship, but, with a consistent spirit of appreciation, I would push forward along my own path and never lose resolve. I would not go back to my hometown. Mother, take care of yourself, and please trust in my future,” was the essence of my reply.