その茶碗は、祖母が五十年近く使っていたものだった。The rice bowl was one her grandmother had used for nearly fifty years.葬儀のあと、遺品を整理していた真理子は、うっかりそれを床に落とし、三つに割ってしまった。After the funeral, while sorting through her grandmother's belongings, Mariko carelessly dropped it on the floor and broke it into three pieces.捨てる気にはなれず、新聞紙に包んだまま、しばらく押し入れにしまっておいた。She couldn't bring herself to throw it away, so she wrapped it in newspaper and left it in the cupboard for a while.
金継ぎの工房を見つけたのは、会社帰りに偶然入った路地の奥だった。She found the kintsugi workshop at the far end of an alley she happened to wander into on her way home from work.ガラス戸の向こうで、白髪の職人が細い筆を動かしている。Behind the glass door, a white-haired craftsman was working with a fine brush.棚には、欠けた皿や割れた湯呑みが、持ち主の名札をつけて静かに並んでいた。On the shelves, chipped plates and broken teacups sat quietly in rows, each labelled with its owner's name.真理子は翌週、包みを抱えてその戸を叩いた。The following week, Mariko knocked on that door with the bundle in her arms.
職人は破片を手のひらに並べ、しばらく黙って眺めていた。The craftsman laid the fragments out on his palm and gazed at them in silence for a while.「ずいぶん使い込まれていますね。」"This has seen a great deal of use."「祖母のものなんです。私の不注意で割ってしまって。」"It was my grandmother's. I broke it through my own carelessness."そう言いながら、真理子は自分を責めずにはいられなかった。As she said this, Mariko couldn't help blaming herself.
金継ぎは、割れた器を漆で接ぎ、継ぎ目に金粉を蒔いて仕上げる技法だ。Kintsugi is a technique in which a broken vessel is joined with lacquer and the seams are finished with a dusting of gold.漆が乾くのを待っては塗り重ねるため、仕上がりまで二か月はかかるという。Because each coat of lacquer must dry before the next is applied, he said it would take at least two months.「傷を隠すのではなく、傷を景色として残すんです。」"The idea isn't to hide the damage, but to keep it as part of the landscape."職人の言葉に、真理子は曖昧にうなずいた。Mariko gave a vague nod at the craftsman's words.正直なところ、元どおりの姿に戻してほしかったのだ。To be honest, she had wanted it restored to exactly how it was.
二か月後、受け取った茶碗には、稲妻のような金の線が走っていた。Two months later, the bowl she collected had lines of gold running across it like lightning.美しいとは思ったが、それを見るたびに割った瞬間を思い出してしまう。She thought it beautiful, but every time she looked at it she was reminded of the moment she broke it.真理子は礼を言いつつも、どこか落ち着かない気持ちで工房を出た。Although she thanked him, Mariko left the workshop feeling somehow uneasy.
その夜、母に写真を送ると、すぐに電話がかかってきた。That night, when she sent a photo to her mother, the phone rang straight away.「懐かしい。この茶碗、前にも一度割れてるのよ。」"Oh, that takes me back. That bowl was broken once before, you know."真理子は耳を疑った。Mariko could hardly believe her ears.「あなたが三つのとき、テーブルから落としたの。おばあちゃん、接着剤でくっつけて、そのまま使ってたのよ。」"You knocked it off the table when you were three. Granny stuck it back together with glue and just carried on using it."「割ったこと、あなたには言わないでって、おばあちゃんに口止めされてたの。」"Granny made me promise not to tell you that you'd broken it."
電話を切ってから、真理子は茶碗を手に取り、明かりにかざしてみた。After she hung up, Mariko picked up the bowl and held it up to the light.三本の金の線のうち、一本だけがわずかに太く、その下にうっすらと古い筋が透けて見える。Of the three gold lines, just one was slightly thicker, and beneath it a faint old seam showed through.今度割れたのは、祖母が昔くっつけたのと同じ場所だったのだ。This time it had broken in exactly the place her grandmother had once glued.職人はきっと、それに気づいたうえで、古い継ぎ目ごと金で包んでくれたのだろう。The craftsman must have noticed, and wrapped the old seam in gold along with the new.
翌朝、真理子はその茶碗でお茶を飲んだ。The next morning, Mariko drank her tea from the bowl.金の線は朝の光を受けて、思っていたよりもずっと穏やかに光っていた。In the morning light, the gold lines shone far more gently than she had expected.二つの時代の傷を指でなぞりながら、祖母が黙って使い続けた年月を思わずにはいられなかった。Tracing the scars of two different times with her finger, she couldn't help thinking of all the years her grandmother had quietly gone on using it.