Five

by Natsume Sōseki

"Hey, do you want to go fishing?" the man in the red shirt asked me. The man in the red shirt had a voice that was unsettlingly gentle, making it hard to tell whether he was a man or a woman. If he were a man, he should have a more masculine voice. Especially since he had graduated from university, it was even more surprising. Even in physics school, someone like me could produce a more masculine voice, so it was quite embarrassing for a literature graduate to sound like this.

I replied, "Well, I guess so," somewhat ambiguously, but the man in the red shirt rudely asked, "Have you ever been fishing?" I didn't have much experience, but I remembered catching three crucian carp at a fishing pond when I was a child. After that, I hooked a koi about eight sun at the Bisha-mon festival in Kagurazaka, and just when I thought I had it, it slipped out of my hands and fell back into the water. Even now, thinking about it makes me feel regretful, and when I shared this, the man in the red shirt thrust his jaw forward and laughed, "Ho ho ho ho." He didn't need to laugh so pretentiously.

"Well then, you don't really know the taste of fishing yet. If you want, I can teach you a little," he said proudly. Who would want to be taught by him? Those who fish or hunt are all heartless people. If they weren't heartless, they wouldn't enjoy killing living beings. Fish and birds would rather be alive than dead. It's one thing if you can't make a living without fishing or hunting, but to need to kill living creatures just to sleep well when you have no troubles in life is a luxurious concern. I thought this, but since he was a literature graduate and quite eloquent, I figured I wouldn't win in an argument, so I remained silent.

Then the red shirt misunderstood that I had given up and immediately urged, "How about today? Let's go together." The person named Yoshikawa is an art teacher, and he is that Yodaiko. For some reason, this Yoda goes in and out of the red shirt's house morning and evening, following him everywhere. It's as if they are peers. Since Yoda is always with the red shirt, there's no reason to be surprised now, but I wonder why he invited me, a person with such a sour disposition, when they could just go together. Perhaps it was out of arrogant fishing pleasure, trying to show off his fishing spot to me. I am not someone who can be easily impressed by such things. Even if he catches two or three tuna, it doesn't mean anything to me. I am human too. No matter how clumsy I am, if I drop a line, something will surely bite. If I refuse to go now, the red shirt will surely speculate, "He doesn't go because he's bad at it; he doesn't go because he dislikes it." Thinking that, I replied, "Let's go."

After that, I finished school, returned home once, got ready, and met the red shirt and Yoda at the station to head to the beach. The boatman was alone, and the boat was long and narrow, shaped like nothing I had ever seen in Tokyo. Even when I looked around inside the boat, I couldn't find a single fishing rod. I asked Yoda how we were supposed to fish without a rod, and he said while stroking his chin, "We don't use rods for offshore fishing; just the line is fine." If I had known this, I should have just kept quiet.

The boatman is rowing slowly, but his skill is terrifying, and when I look back, the shore appears small, as we have gone far out. The five-story pagoda of Takakashi-ji juts out above the forest, sharp like a needle. Looking ahead, Aoshima is floating. It is said to be an uninhabited island. Upon closer inspection, it is only stones and pines, and indeed, it is understandable why no one could live there. The man in the red shirt is repeatedly enjoying the view and says, "What a nice scenery." Noda also says, "It is a magnificent view." Whether it is truly a magnificent view or not, it is certain that it feels good. Being blown by the sea breeze on the spacious ocean felt almost like medicine. I suddenly became very hungry.

"Look, that pine trunk is straight, and the top opens like an umbrella, it looks just like something out of a Turner painting," the man in the red shirt says to Noda, to which Noda replies with a proud face, "It really is like Turner. That curve is irresistible." I don't know what Turner refers to, but since it wouldn't be a problem not to ask, I remained silent. The boat turned with the island on our right. There were absolutely no waves, and it was so flat that it was hard to believe this was the sea. Thanks to the man in the red shirt, it was very enjoyable. If possible, I thought I would like to land on that island and asked, "Is it not possible to dock the boat at that rock?" The man in the red shirt objected, saying, "It is not impossible, but it is too close to the shore for fishing." I remained silent.

Then Noda unnecessarily suggested, "How about we name that island Turner Island, Vice-Principal?" The Red Shirt agreed, saying, "That's interesting; let's call it that from now on." If I am included in this "we," it's bothersome. I'm fine with Aoshima. How about we place Raphael's Madonna on that rock? It would make a nice picture, Noda said, and the Red Shirt responded with a creepy laugh, "Let's not talk about the Madonna." He glanced at me for a moment, assuring me it was okay since no one else was around, but then deliberately turned away and chuckled. I felt a bit uncomfortable. Whether it's a Madonna or a young master, it doesn't concern me, so I thought they could do as they pleased. However, the attitude of saying things that no one understands and expecting not to be questioned is vulgar. In this way, the person is saying, "I am also a person from Edo." I thought the Madonna must be a nickname for the Red Shirt's favorite geisha. It’s a ridiculous story to be gazing at a familiar geisha standing under a pine tree on a deserted island. Noda could just paint that in oil and exhibit it.

The boatman said, "This should be good," stopped the boat, and dropped the anchor. When Akashirt asked, "How deep is it?" the boatman replied, "About six fathoms." Akashirt said, "Six fathoms makes it hard to catch sea bream," while throwing the line into the sea. The captain seemed eager to catch sea bream, looking bold. Noda flattered, "You'll catch something with the vice-principal's skill," and similarly cast his line. However, his setup had no float, just a lead weight dangling. Fishing without a float is like measuring heat without a thermometer. Just as he thought it was impossible for him, Noda asked, "Come on, why don't you give it a try? Do you have any line?" He had plenty of line but replied that he had no float, to which Noda said, "If you can't fish without a float, you're a novice." Thus, when the line reached the bottom, he measured the breath with his index finger at the edge of the boat. As soon as something bit, there was an immediate reaction in his hand.

“Look, it’s here!” the teacher suddenly began to pull the line, thinking he had hooked something, but in reality, nothing was caught; the bait had just disappeared. “What a shame. Vice-principal, you missed out. That was definitely a big one, but with your skill, it got away. You can’t let your guard down today,” he said. However, it couldn’t be helped if it got away. It was better than those who were staring at the float. It was just like how you can't ride a bicycle without brakes, Noda continued to babble strangely. He almost thought about hitting him. He was human too. It wasn’t a sea rented out just by the vice-principal; it was a wide space. He thought that at least one bonito would bite out of obligation, and he tossed the weight and line with a splash, carelessly manipulating it with his fingertips.

After a while, I felt something twitching against the line. It must be a fish. If it weren't alive, it wouldn't move like this. Alright, I've caught something, so I started to reel it in. "Oh, have you caught something?" Noda teased, while the line was already almost fully reeled in, with only about five feet submerged in the water. When I peeked over the edge of the boat, a fish with a striped pattern like a goldfish was clinging to the line, swaying left and right as it rose to meet my hand. Interesting. As I pulled it up from the water's edge, it splashed and seawater got on my face. Finally catching it, I tried to remove the hook, but it wouldn't come off easily. The fish was slippery in my hands, which felt quite unpleasant. Out of annoyance, I flicked the line and threw it between its body, and it immediately died. Akashirt and Noda watched in surprise. I washed my hands in the sea, bringing them to my nose. It still smelled fishy. I'm really fed up. No matter what I catch, I don't want to hold a fish. The fish probably doesn't want to be held either. Saying that, I started to wind up the line.

“The first spear is commendable, but it's Gorky,” Noda said cheekily again, to which the red shirt replied, “Speaking of Gorky, it sounds like the name of a Russian literary figure.” Noda immediately agreed, saying, “That's right, it really does sound like a Russian literary figure.” Gorky is a Russian literary figure, Maruki is a photographer of grass, and the tree that bears rice is the parent of life. This red shirt has a bad habit. He tends to line up names of katakana Chinese regardless of whom he catches. Everyone has their own specialty. A math teacher like me wouldn’t have any idea if you mention Gorky or Sharyoku. I wish he would show a little restraint. If he wants to say something, he should use names I know, like Franklin's autobiography or Pushing, Two, Z, Front. The red shirt sometimes brings a bright red magazine called “Empire Literature” to school and reads it with a serious expression. When I asked Yama-arashi, he said that all the katakana names from the red shirt come from that magazine. Empire Literature is indeed a troublesome magazine.

After that, the red shirt and Noda continued fishing diligently, and within about an hour, they caught fifteen or sixteen fish together. Strangely enough, all they caught were Gorkies, and they didn’t catch a single sea bream. “Today is a big hit in Russian literature,” the red shirt said to Noda. “Since it’s Gorky with your skill, I can’t help but be Gorky as well,” Noda replied. When I asked the boatman, he said that these small fish have too many bones and are very unpalatable, so they can’t be eaten at all. However, it seems they can be used as fertilizer. The red shirt and Noda are diligently fishing for fertilizer. It’s a pity. I got tired after catching one, so I lay on my back between the hulls and gazed at the sky. This is much more stylish than fishing.

Then the two of them began to talk in low voices. I couldn't hear them well, nor did I want to. Looking up at the sky, I was thinking about Kiyo. If I had money and took Kiyo to such a beautiful place, it would surely be enjoyable. No matter how good the scenery is, it would be boring with someone like Noda. Kiyo is a wrinkled old woman, but no matter where I take her, I wouldn't feel embarrassed. Someone like Noda, whether riding in a carriage, on a boat, or climbing the Ryouunkaku, is simply not someone I could associate with. If I were the vice-principal and the red shirt was me, I would still surely flatter myself and tease the red shirt. They say Edo people are frivolous, and indeed, if someone like this were to go on a countryside tour and keep repeating, "I am an Edo person," it's only natural for country folks to think that frivolity is an Edo trait and that Edo people are frivolous. While I was thinking about such things, the two of them suddenly burst into giggles. They were saying something between their laughter, but it was fragmented and unclear.

“Eh? I wonder about that…” “...Absolutely... I don’t know... It’s a sin.” “No way...” “It’s about the grasshopper... I’m serious.”

I hadn’t been listening to the outside words, but when I heard Noda say "grasshopper," I involuntarily stiffened. Noda emphasized the word "grasshopper" particularly, making it clear enough to reach my ears, and then deliberately blurred the following words. I remained still, but I was indeed listening.

“That same Hodda again...” “That might be true...” “Tempura... Hahaha...” “...Inciting...” “What about dumplings?”

The words were fragmented, but judging from the topics of grasshoppers, tempura, and dumplings, they must be talking about me privately. If that's the case, they should speak louder. If they want to have a private conversation, they shouldn't involve me. What an irritating bunch they are. Whether it's grasshoppers or snow stepping, it's not my fault. The principal said to hold off for a while, so I'm just refraining from showing my face. It bothers me that those in the field are making irrelevant critiques. They should just suck on their brushes and stay out of it. I will deal with my matters sooner or later by myself, so it doesn't matter, but I can't help but worry about the complaints that Horita is stirring things up again. I can't tell whether Horita incited me to escalate the commotion or if Horita incited the students to bully me; I don't know which direction to take.

Looking up at the blue sky, the sunlight gradually weakened, and a slightly chilly breeze began to blow. I thought the clouds, like incense smoke, were quietly drifting over the transparent sea, but before I knew it, they flowed into the depths, creating a thin haze.

“Shall we go home now?” the red shirt said as if recalling something, to which No replied, “Yes, it’s just the right time. Are you meeting Madonna tonight?” The red shirt said, “Don’t say foolish things; it’ll be a mistake,” and slightly lifted the guy who was leaning against the edge of the boat. “Hehehe, it’s all right,” No said as he turned around, and I cast my gaze upon No's head with eyes like a plate. No flipped over like an illusion and said, “Ah, this guy surrenders,” while scratching his head. What a clever little brat he is.

The boat rowed back to the shore over the calm sea. "You don't seem to like fishing very much," asked the man in the red shirt, to which he replied, "Well, I'd rather sleep and look at the sky," and he threw the half-smoked cigarette into the sea. With a sizzling sound, it floated away, swaying on the waves stirred by the oar. "The students are very happy that you came, so please make an effort," he said, suddenly bringing up something completely unrelated to fishing. "They're not that happy, are they?" "No, it's not flattery. They are truly happy, right, Yoshikawa-kun?" "They're not just happy; it's a big commotion," Noh said with a grin. Everything this guy said was irritatingly annoying. "But you know, you should be careful; it's dangerous," said the man in the red shirt, to which he replied, "It's dangerous anyway. If it comes to this, I'm prepared for danger." In fact, I was planning to either get fired or make all the boarders apologize, one or the other. "Saying that makes it hard to approach you, but—actually, I'm saying this for your sake as the vice-principal, so don't take it the wrong way." "The vice-principal really has a good opinion of you. I, too, as a fellow Edokko, wish for your long stay here as much as possible, and I think we should help each other, so I've been working behind the scenes for that," Noh said something human-like. I would rather hang myself than be taken care of by Noh.

"So, the students are very welcoming of your arrival, but there are various circumstances involved. You might get frustrated at times, but I want you to think of this as a test of patience and endure it. I will never do anything that won't be beneficial for you."

"What kind of circumstances are you talking about?"

"It's a bit complicated, but you'll gradually understand. Even if I don't explain, you'll naturally come to understand, right, Yoshikawa-kun?"

"Yes, it's quite complicated. It can't be understood overnight. However, I gradually understand, even without me speaking, it naturally comes to me," said No, echoing similar sentiments as the man in the red shirt.

"If that's such a troublesome situation, I wouldn't need to ask, but since you started talking, I'm inquiring,"

"That's very true. It's irresponsible to start talking and not follow up. So let me say this much: you, with all due respect, have just graduated from school and this is your first experience as a teacher. However, the school environment is quite emotionally charged, and it won't go as simply as a student would think,"

"If it won't go simply, how will it go?"

"Well, you are so straightforward that I would say you are still lacking in experience..."

"I must be lacking in experience anyway. I mentioned it in my resume; it's been twenty-three years and four months,"

"Ah, that's where unexpected things can arise,"

"As long as I'm honest, I'm not afraid of anyone taking advantage,"

"Of course, you're not afraid, but you can be taken advantage of. Your predecessor was indeed taken advantage of, so you need to be careful,"

When No realized he had become quiet and turned around, he found that, before he knew it, the boatman was discussing fishing at the stern. With No absent, the conversation had become much easier to have.

"Who took advantage of my predecessor?"

"I can't say who it refers to, as it relates to that person's honor. Also, since there is no clear evidence, saying it would be a fault on our part. Anyway, since you've come all this way, if you fail here, it would be pointless for us to have called you. Please be careful,"

"Even if you tell me to be careful, there's nothing more I can do. I just need to avoid doing bad things, right?"

The man in the red shirt laughed ho ho ho. I don't remember saying anything that would warrant being laughed at. I firmly believe that this is fine until today. When I think about it, it seems that most people in the world encourage things to go wrong. They seem to believe that society cannot succeed unless things go wrong. When they occasionally see honest and pure people, they make derogatory remarks, calling them young masters or boys. If that's the case, it would be better if ethics teachers did not teach children not to lie and to be honest in elementary and middle schools. It might be more beneficial for society and the individuals themselves to teach how to lie in school, how to distrust others, and how to manipulate people. The man in the red shirt laughed ho ho ho because he was laughing at my simplicity. In a world where simplicity and sincerity are laughed at, there is nothing to be done. Kiyo has never laughed at such times. He listened with great interest. Kiyo is far superior to the man in the red shirt.

"Of course, it’s fine as long as you don’t do bad things, but even if you avoid doing bad things yourself, if you don’t notice the malice of others, you will end up suffering terribly. There are people in the world who may seem bold or indifferent, or who kindly take care of boarding houses, but you cannot let your guard down around them... It has gotten quite cold, hasn’t it? It’s already autumn. The beach is shrouded in mist and dyed sepia. What a beautiful view. Hey, Yoshikawa-kun, what do you think of that beach view?" he called out loudly to Noda.

"I see, this is wonderful. If I had time, I would love to sketch it, but it’s a pity. It would be a shame to leave it as it is," Noda said, impressed.

On the second floor of the port house, a light was lit, and when the train whistle blew with a whoosh, the boat I was on thrust its bow into the sandy shore, coming to a halt. "Welcome back," my wife stood on the beach, wearing a red shirt, and greeted me. From the edge of the boat, I finally called out and jumped down to the shore.