First Snow on Fuji
1.
“There’s already snow on Mount Fuji. That’s snow, isn’t it?” said Jiro.
Utako looked out the train window at Fuji.
“You’re right. The first snow.”
“It isn’t just clouds, is it? It’s snow,” Jiro repeated.
Mount Fuji was wrapped in clouds. The white clouds and the snow at the
mountain’s summit were nearly the same color, set against the overcast sky.
“What was today? September twenty-second?” “Yes. Tomorrow is the
middle of Higan. The equinox.”
“I wonder if it doesn’t snow on Mount Fuji every year around this time.
Are you sure it’s the first snow?” Jiro said. Then, as if the thought had just
occurred to him, “Wait—you can’t tell whether it’s the first snow or not,
can you? It’s the first time you and I have seen snow on Mount Fuji this
year, but it might have snowed before.”
“Wasn’t it in the paper? There was a big photograph—it said ‘Mt. Fuji’s
First Facial of the Year.”’ “When was that?”
“I think it was this morning’s paper. It wasn’t last night’s.”
“I didn’t see it.”
“You didn’t? You must not get the paper we get.” “Could be.” Jiro
smiled wryly.
“It looks exactly like the picture in the paper. I think it said it had been
taken from the paper’s airplane. Yes—the clouds were just like that. . . .”
Jiro remained silent, so Utako continued.
