Sanshirō gazed on the writing of another, on the funeral of a stranger, with an objective eye. If someone had approached him and suggested he view Mineko in the same manner, he would have been taken aback. When it came to Mineko, objectivity was out of the question. For one thing, he wasn't at all cognizant of his objectivity or lack thereof. He was simply aware that he sensed a beautiful calm in a stranger's death, while in the life that was Mineko he sensed a beautiful joy, underlaid with a certain anguish. He was off now to quell this anguish. He thought to face it head on. Sidestepping to parry, even in his dreams, was never an option. This same Sanshirō, as it was, viewed the passing funeral in a literal sense, detached from the sorrow of a premature passing. He even found pleasure, where should have been sadness, in the beauty of the moment.
On turning into Akebono-chō he saw a large pine. He'd been told to take this tree as a landmark. When he reached it, the house was not the right one. On up the street was another pine. And beyond that was another. There were lots of pines. Sanshirō thought what a nice area it was. Past numerous pines and off to the left was a hedge with a finely crafted gate. Sure enough, the placard read 'Haraguchi.' The placard was of a dark, intricately-grained wood, on which the name was stylishly painted in green. Each character was a work of art. From gate to entryway was clean and simple, with grass on either side.