Eleven to twelve

by Ryunosuke Akutagawa

Fools always believe that someone else is a fool.

It can be said that we love nature because nature does not hate or envy us.

The wisest way of living is to live without breaking the habits of an era while despising those habits.

What we are most proud of is, in fact, only what we do not possess.

No one raises objections to breaking idols, and at the same time, no one raises objections to becoming an idol. However, those who can comfortably sit on the pedestal of an idol are the most blessed by the gods, namely fools, villains, or heroes. (Krubak had left his claw marks above this chapter.)

The thoughts necessary for our lives may have run out three thousand years ago. We are merely adding new flames to old firewood.

Our characteristic is always to transcend our own consciousness.

If happiness is accompanied by pain, and peace is accompanied by weariness, what will happen?

Defending oneself is more difficult than defending others. Those who doubt should look at lawyers.

Pride, lust, doubt—every sin has arisen from these three for three thousand years. At the same time, perhaps every virtue as well.

Reducing material desires does not necessarily bring peace. To attain peace, we must also reduce our spiritual desires. (Krubak had also left his claw marks above this chapter.)

We are more unfortunate than humans. Humans have not evolved as much as kappa. (When I read this chapter, I couldn't help but laugh.)

To do is to be able to do, and to be able to do is to do. In the end, our lives cannot escape this circular reasoning. That is to say, it is persistently irrational.

Baudelaire expressed his worldview in just one word, "vulva," after he became an idiot. However, what he said about himself was not necessarily this. Rather, he forgot the word "stomach" because he trusted his genius, his poetic genius sufficient to sustain his life. (In this chapter, the traces of Clubac remained as well.)

If we were to rely solely on reason, we would naturally have to deny our own existence. The fact that Voltaire ended his life in the happiness he made a god of reason indicates that humans have not evolved beyond kappa.

On a cold afternoon, having grown tired of reading "The Words of a Fool," I decided to visit the philosopher Magg. There, at the corner of a lonely town, a kappa, as thin as a mosquito, was lazily leaning against the wall. It was undoubtedly the kappa that had stolen my fountain pen before. I couldn't help but feel my heart race, and I stopped a robust officer who was just passing by.

"Please interrogate that kappa over there. That kappa stole my fountain pen about a month ago."

The officer raised his stick in his right hand; in this country, officers carry a water pine stick instead of a sword. "Hey, you," he called out to the kappa. I was worried that the kappa might run away, but surprisingly, it calmly walked up to the officer. Moreover, with its arms crossed, it arrogantly stared at me and the officer. However, the officer showed no anger, took out a notebook from his belly pouch, and began the interrogation.

"What is your name?"

"Gluck."

"What is your occupation?"

"Until just two or three days ago, I was a mailman."

"Very well. According to this person's statement, you stole this person's fountain pen."

"Yes, I stole it about a month ago."

"What for?"

"I thought I would use it as a toy for a child."

"And where is that child?"

The officer first directed a sharp gaze at the kappa.

"The child died a week ago."

"Do you have a death certificate?"

The thin kappa took a piece of paper out of its belly pouch. The officer read the paper and suddenly started grinning while patting the other person's shoulder.

“Very well. Thank you for your hard work.”

I was staring blankly at the officer's face. Meanwhile, the thin kappa muttered something to itself and walked away, turning its back to us. I finally gathered my thoughts and asked the officer.

“Why don't you catch that kappa?”

“That kappa is innocent.”

“But it stole my fountain pen...”

“It was probably to use it as a child's toy. However, that child is no longer here. If you have any doubts, look up Article 1285 of the Penal Code.”

The officer said this and quickly went off somewhere. Reluctantly, I hurried to Magg's house while repeating “Article 1285 of the Penal Code” in my mind. Philosopher Magg loved having guests, and today the dim room was filled with Judge Pep, Doctor Chuck, and the president of the glass company, Geel, who were all gathered under the colorful glass lanterns, puffing up clouds of smoke. It was particularly convenient for me that Judge Pep was present. As soon as I sat down, instead of looking up Article 1285 of the Penal Code, I immediately asked Pep.

“Pep, excuse me, but isn't there a punishment for criminals in this country?”

Pep leisurely blew out a puff of smoke from his golden-tipped cigarette and answered, sounding quite bored.

“Of course there is. They even carry out the death penalty.”

“But, about a month ago…”

After explaining the situation, I asked about the aforementioned Article 1285 of the Penal Code.

“Well, this is how it is. — ‘No matter what crime has been committed, once the circumstances that led to the crime have disappeared, the criminal cannot be punished.’ In your case, this means that the kappa was once a parent, but is no longer a parent, so the crime naturally ceases to exist.”

“That seems quite unreasonable.”

“Please stop talking about common sense. It is unreasonable to view both the kappa who is a parent and the kappa who is not a parent in the same way. Yes, under Japanese law, they are treated the same. That seems ridiculous to us. Hehehehe.”

Peppu threw away his roll-up cigarette, wearing an indifferent smirk. It was Chuck, who had nothing to do with the law, who interjected. Chuck adjusted his nose clip slightly and asked me a question.

“Is there the death penalty in Japan?”

“Yes, there is. In Japan, it is hanging.”

I felt a bit of resentment toward Peppu, who was calmly composed, so I took this opportunity to make a sarcastic remark.

“The death penalty in this country is carried out more civilized than in Japan, right?”

“Of course, it is civilized.”

Peppu remained calm as ever.

“In this country, we do not use hanging. Occasionally, electricity may be used, but in most cases, electricity is not used either. We simply announce the name of the crime.”

“Is that enough for the kappa to die?”

“Indeed, it is. Our kappa nerves are more delicate than yours.”

“It’s not just the death penalty. The same method can be used in murder cases as well—”

President Geeru, illuminated by the light of colored glass, showed a friendly smile as his face turned purple.

“The other day, I almost had a heart attack because a certain socialist called me a ‘thief.’”

“That seems surprisingly common. I knew a lawyer who also passed away from those very words.”

I turned back to the kappa, the philosopher Magg, who said this. Magg continued to speak without looking at anyone, wearing his usual ironic smile.

“That kappa was told by someone that he was a frog—of course, you know this too, in this country being called a frog means you are not human—and he kept thinking every day whether he was a frog or not, and eventually died.”

“So that means it was suicide.”

“However, the one who called that kappa a frog did so with the intention to kill him. From your perspective, that would also be considered suicide...”

Just as Magg said that, suddenly, a sharp sound of a pistol echoed from beyond the wall of that room, cutting through the air, resonating to the house of the poet Tock.