Seven

by Natsume Sōseki

I immediately vacated my lodging. When I returned to the inn and was packing my belongings, the landlady approached me with a worried expression and said, "Is there something wrong? If something has upset you, please let me know. I will make amends." I was surprised. Why are there so many people in the world who are so clueless? I have no idea whether she wants me to leave or stay. It feels as if she has lost her mind. I thought that fighting with such a person would only tarnish the name of an Edoite, so I decided to call for a carriage and leave quickly.

I left, but I had no destination in mind. The carriage driver asked, "Where are you going?" so I replied, "Just follow me silently; you'll understand soon enough," and started walking briskly. I considered going to Yamashiro-ya since it would be easier, but I would have to leave again, which would ultimately be a hassle. As I walked, I would likely come across a sign for a lodging house. If that happened, I would assume it was a place favored by fate. While walking through a quiet and seemingly livable area, I eventually found myself in Kajiya-machi. This is a town lined with samurai residences, and there are no lodging houses here. I thought about turning back towards a livelier area, but then I suddenly remembered. My beloved Urana-kun lives in this neighborhood. He is a local and has a family estate passed down through generations, so he should be well-acquainted with the local situation. If I visit him and ask, he might be able to recommend a good lodging house. Fortunately, I had visited him once before, so I wouldn't have to spend time searching around.

I guessed it would be around here and said "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" a couple of times, when an elderly woman in her fifties came out from the back holding an old-fashioned paper candle. I don't dislike young women, but seeing older ones gives me a sense of nostalgia. Perhaps it's because I like Kiyo, and that spirit has possessed various grandmothers. This is probably the mother of Urana-kun. She is a dignified lady, but she resembles him quite a bit. I wanted to meet her a little, so I called my husband to the entrance and asked, "Actually, this and that, do you have any idea where this might be?" Urana-kun seemed to be quite troubled and thought for a while, then said, "There is an elderly couple named Hagino living in this back alley, and I once opened up a room for them. They said they would be willing to lend it if there was a reliable person. I don't know if they still rent it out, but let's go together and ask," and kindly took me there.

That night, I ended up boarding at the Hagino's house. What surprised me was that when I vacated the silver room, the next day, No was calmly occupying the room I had been in. Even I was astonished by this. The world seems to be full of tricksters, and perhaps we are all just playing tricks on each other. It was disheartening.

If the world is like this, I feel I can't lose, and if I don't conform to the world, it will become unbearable. If I don't take from the pickpocket's spoils, I won't be able to have three meals a day, and when things reach this point, living itself becomes a matter of consideration. That said, if I were to hang myself with a healthy body, it would be disrespectful to my ancestors and would also tarnish my reputation. When I think about it, instead of entering a physics school and learning useless skills like mathematics, I should have started a milk delivery business with six hundred yen as capital. That way, Kiyo wouldn't have to leave my side, and I could live without worrying about the old lady from afar. It wasn't so noticeable when we were together, but now that I've come to the countryside, Kiyo truly is a good person. Such a kind-hearted woman is rarely found even if you search all over Japan. Old lady, I had a slight cold when I stood up, but I wonder how she is doing now. She must have been very happy when she saw the letter I sent the other day. Still, a reply should be coming soon, but—I've been spending the last couple of days thinking about such things.

Since I am concerned, I occasionally ask the old woman at the inn, "Haven't any letters come from Tokyo?" but each time I ask, she makes a sympathetic face and says, "Nothing has come." Unlike the couple at Ika-gin, who are originally samurai, both of them are refined. I am at a loss when the old man makes strange noises and sings at night, but unlike Ika-gin, he doesn’t carelessly make tea, so it is quite comfortable. The old woman sometimes comes to my room and talks about various things. She asks, "Why didn’t you bring your wife with you?" When I ask, "Does it look like I have a wife?" she replies, "Poor thing, you’re still only twenty-four." Then she starts off by saying, "Even so, it’s natural for someone at twenty-four to have a wife," and gives examples of about half a dozen people, saying someone got married at twenty, and someone else had two children at twenty-two, which surprised me. I tried to imitate the rural dialect and asked, "Then, if I also get married at twenty-four, will you take care of me?" The old woman honestly asked, "Is that true?"

"It's really true. I desperately want a wife."

"That may be so, but when you’re young, everyone feels that way." I was taken aback by this greeting and couldn't respond.

"But you must already have a wife, right? I can tell, I really can."

"Oh, you have sharp eyes. How can you tell?"

"How can I tell? You’re waiting every day for a letter from Tokyo, aren’t you?"

"I’m surprised. That’s quite perceptive."

"I guessed right, didn’t I?"

"Yes, you might have guessed right."

"But nowadays, girls are different from the past, so you should be careful."

"What do you mean? Is my wife in Tokyo having an affair?"

"No, your wife is certainly faithful, but..."

"So, I finally feel relieved. Then, what should I be careful about?"

"Yours is certainly -- yours is certainly, but --"

"Where are the uncertain people, I wonder?"

"There are quite a few here too. Do you know that young lady from Toyama?"

"No, I don't know her."

"You might not know her yet. Here, you are the most beautiful person. You are so beautiful that all the teachers at school are saying 'Madonna, Madonna'."

"Hmm, Madonna? I thought it was the name of a geisha."

"No, you see. Madonna is a Chinese word that refers to a beautiful person."

"That might be true. I'm surprised."

"Perhaps it was a name given by the art teacher."

"Did Noda give it?"

"No, it was that Yoshikawa-sensei who named her."

"Is that Madonna uncertain?"

"That Madonna is actually an uncertain Madonna."

"That's troublesome. Women with nicknames have never been reliable throughout history. That might be true."

"Indeed. There were terrifying women like Onikami no Omatsu and Datenshi no Ohyaku."

"Is Madonna one of them, I wonder?"

"That Madonna is you. That, the Koga-sensei who took care of you here -- she had a promise to marry that person."

"Oh, that's quite mysterious. I never thought that that Uranari-kun was such a charming man. People really can be different from their appearances. I should be a little careful."

“However, last year, that person's father passed away—until then, there was money, and they held bank stocks, everything was going well—but since then, for some reason, their life suddenly took a turn for the worse—namely, Mr. Koga was too kind-hearted and got deceived. With all this going on, the marriage has been delayed, and then that vice-principal came along, saying he absolutely wants to marry your daughter.”

“That red shirt? What a terrible guy. I always thought that shirt was more than just a shirt. And then?”

“When I asked someone to negotiate, it turns out that even Mr. Toyama has a debt of gratitude to Mr. Koga, so he couldn't respond immediately—well, he said he would think it over. But then Mr. Red Shirt started to get involved with Mr. Toyama, and before you knew it, he had charmed your daughter. Mr. Red Shirt is one thing, but your daughter is another, and everyone speaks ill of her. Having agreed to marry Mr. Koga, now that Mr. Bachelor has appeared, she’s trying to switch to him, and that won’t sit well with Mr. Koday.”

“I really apologize. Not just for today, but even for tomorrow and the day after, it’s something I can’t make amends for, no matter how long it takes.”

“So, feeling sorry for Mr. Koga, Mr. Horita went to speak with the vice-principal, and Mr. Red Shirt said he had no intention of taking away someone who has a promise. He might take it if it becomes a broken promise, but for now, he’s just associating with the Toyama family, and he doesn’t feel bad about associating with Mr. Koga. So, Mr. Horita had no choice but to come back. It seems that since then, Mr. Red Shirt and Mr. Horita have had a bad relationship.”

"You seem to know a lot about various things. How do you know such detailed information? I'm impressed."

"It's a small place, so I understand everything."

I know too much, and it's a bit troublesome. At this rate, they might even know about my tempura and dumplings. It's a tricky situation. However, thanks to this, I understand the meaning of Madonna and the relationship between Yama-arashi and Akashirtsu. It has greatly contributed to my learning. The only problem is that it's not clear who the villain is. For someone as simple as me, I need things to be black or white; otherwise, I don't know which side to support.

"Which one is the good person, Akashirtsu or Yama-arashi?"

"What is Yama-arashi?"

"Yama-arashi refers to Horita."

"Well, it seems that Mr. Horita is stronger, but Mr. Akashirtsu is a scholar, so he is someone who works. Moreover, Mr. Akashirtsu is kinder, but the students say that Mr. Horita has a better reputation."

"So which one is better?"

"In other words, the one with the higher salary is more respectable."

A few days later, when I returned from school, my grandmother was waiting with a smile. "Thank you for waiting. I've finally arrived," she said, bringing a letter. She left the room saying, "Take your time to read it."

When I picked up the letter, it was a message from Kiyo. There were two or three sheets of letter paper stacked together, and upon closer inspection, it had been forwarded from Yamashiro-ya to Ikagin, and then delivered from Ikagin to Haginoya. It seemed that they had been staying at Yamashiro-ya for about a week, as if the letter intended to stay at the inn as well.

When I opened the letter, it contained a very long message. After receiving the letter from the young master, I thought I would write a reply immediately, but I caught a cold and ended up bedridden for about a week, so I apologized for the delay. Furthermore, since I am not good at reading and writing like the young ladies of today, it was quite a struggle to write such poor characters. I thought about asking my nephew to write it for me, but since it was a precious letter, I felt it would be disrespectful to the young master if I didn't write it myself, so I went through the trouble of drafting it before writing the final version.

It took two days to write the final version, but it took four days to draft it. It started with a request to please read it until the end, as it might be difficult to read, but I wrote it with great effort. Indeed, it was hard to read. Not only were the characters poorly written, but it was mostly in hiragana, making it a challenge to figure out where it broke off and where it began, and even to add punctuation was quite a task. I have a tendency to get anxious, so I usually wouldn't read such a long and unclear letter even for five yen, but this time I seriously read it through to the end.

It is true that I finished reading it, but the meaning didn't connect, so I tried reading it again from the beginning. The room had become a bit dark, making it harder to see than before, so I finally went out to the porch and sat down to carefully look over the letter. Then, a breeze of early autumn rustled the banana leaves and blew against my bare skin. The wind caused the letter to flutter towards the garden, and eventually, the four-foot-long letter paper made a rustling sound, and when I let go of it, it seemed like it would fly all the way to the hedge over there.

I didn't have time to worry about such things. The young master has a straightforward personality, but he is just too composed, which makes me worried. I advised him to be careful about giving nicknames to others indiscriminately, as it can lead to resentment. If he does, I asked him to inform Kiyo only by letter. I also warned him that country folks can be unpleasant, so he should be careful not to have a bad experience. The climate is also more unpredictable than in Tokyo, so he should be cautious not to catch a cold from sleeping poorly. The young master's letter is too short, and I can't understand his situation well, so I hope he will write at least half the length of this letter next time.

It's fine to give the innkeeper five yen for tea, but I worry if it will cause trouble later. In the countryside, money is the only reliable thing, so he must be frugal and ensure it won't hinder him in case of an emergency. He might struggle without pocket money, so I will send him ten yen by exchange. I had deposited the fifty yen I received from the young master the other day at the post office, thinking it would help when I return to Tokyo and have a home, but even after deducting this ten yen, I still have forty yen left, so it should be fine. Indeed, women tend to be meticulous about such things.

As I was pondering while fluttering Kiyo's letter with my fan, the sliding door opened, and Hagino's grandmother brought in dinner. "I wonder if you're still reading it. That's quite a long letter," she said, to which I replied, "Yes, it's an important letter, so I'm just letting it flutter in the wind while I read it," giving a vague response as I took my place at the table.

Tonight, we had boiled sweet potatoes again. This place is kinder and more refined than Ikagin, but unfortunately, the food is terrible. Sweet potatoes yesterday, sweet potatoes the day before, and sweet potatoes tonight. I declared that I love sweet potatoes, but being forced to eat them consecutively like this is unbearable. Rather than laughing at Urnari-kun, I myself will soon become the sweet potato Urnari-sensei. If Kiyo were here, he would surely treat me to my favorite tuna sashimi or grilled kamaboko, but it's just the unfortunate stinginess of a poor samurai family. No matter how I think about it, being with Kiyo is not good. If I have to stay at that school for long, I should call him over from Tokyo. Not being able to eat tempura soba or dango, and just staying at the boarding house eating sweet potatoes until I turn yellow, being an educator is tough. I finished a plate of sweet potatoes, took two raw eggs from the desk drawer, cracked them on the edge of my rice bowl, and finally managed to get by. If I don't get some nutrition from raw eggs, I won't be able to handle twenty-one hours of classes a week.

Today, due to a letter from Kiyo, I was delayed in going to the bath. However, missing even one day at a place I visit every day feels very uncomfortable. I thought about taking a train to go out, and came to the station with my usual red handkerchief, but I had already missed the departure time by two or three minutes. Since I had to wait a little, I sat down on a bench, and while puffing on my shikishima, I coincidentally ran into Urnari-kun.

After hearing the earlier conversation, I felt even more pity for Ura-nari-kun. Usually, he seemed so small and pitiful, as if he were a tenant living between heaven and earth, but tonight his pitifulness was beyond that. If possible, I wanted to double his salary, have him marry the young lady from Toyama starting tomorrow, and let him go play in Tokyo for about a month. So, I cheerfully offered my seat, saying, "Would you like to sit here?" but Ura-nari-kun stood hesitantly, saying, "No, please don't mind me." I suggested again, "You should sit down; it will be tiring if we don't wait a bit before departing." In truth, I felt so sorry for him that I wanted him to sit next to me. Finally, he said, "I will intrude," and followed my words.

In this world, there are those who are as cheeky as weeds, always showing up where they can avoid being absent. There are also those who carry an attitude like a mountain storm, saying, "Japan would be in trouble without me." Then there are those who, like Akashirtsu, consider themselves a cosmetic and handsome man's wholesaler. Some raccoons seem to say that if education is alive and they wear a frock coat, they become someone. Everyone is proud in their own way, but I have never seen anyone as meek as Ura-nari-kun, who looks like a doll taken hostage. His face is puffed up, but to abandon such a splendid man for Akashirtsu is something that Madonna must be an incredibly incomprehensible woman. No matter how many dozens of Akashirtsu gather, can they really find such a splendid husband?

"Are you feeling unwell? You look quite tired..." "No, I don't have any particular chronic illness..."

"That's good to hear. When the body is unwell, a person is also no good."

"You seem quite sturdy."

"Yes, even if I lose weight, I won't get sick. I absolutely hate being ill."

Ura-nari-kun smiled with a grin after hearing my words.

At that moment, I heard the youthful laughter of a woman at the entrance, and when I casually turned around, a wonderful person had arrived. A tall beauty with fair skin and a fashionable hairstyle stood alongside a woman in her mid-forties, both standing in front of the ticket booth. I am not a man who can describe a woman's beauty in detail, but there is no doubt she is beautiful. It felt as if I had warmed a crystal bead with perfume and held it in my palm. The older woman is shorter, but they look quite similar, so they must be mother and daughter. Just as I thought, "Ah, they've arrived," I completely forgot about Urana-kun and was only looking at the young woman. Then, Urana-kun suddenly stood up from beside me and slowly walked towards the women, which surprised me a little. I thought she might be a Madonna. The three of them exchanged light greetings in front of the ticket booth. It was too far away to hear what they were saying.

When I looked at the station clock, it was already five minutes until departure. I wanted the train to arrive quickly, but since my conversation partner was gone, I was feeling impatient when another person rushed into the station. It turned out to be Akashirt. He was wearing a somewhat flashy kimono with a loosely wrapped chirimen obi, and as usual, he had a gold chain hanging down. That gold chain is a fake. Akashirt thinks no one knows him and is showing off, but I know very well. He rushed in, looking around nervously, but then politely bowed to the three people in front of the ticket booth and said a few words to them. Suddenly, he turned towards me and walked over with his usual cat-like steps, saying, "Are you going to the hot springs too? I was worried I might miss the train, so I hurried over, but there's still three or four minutes left." He took out his gold watch, wondering if the clock was accurate, and said it was two minutes off as he sat down beside me. The women didn't turn around at all, resting their chins on their canes and staring straight ahead. The older lady occasionally glanced at Akashirt, but the younger one kept looking sideways. She must indeed be a Madonna.

Eventually, a whistle blew, and the train arrived. The people who had been waiting rushed to board first. The man in the red shirt jumped into the first-class carriage. Just because he got into first class doesn't mean he can act superior. The fare to Sumida is five sen for first class and three sen for second class, so there is only a two-sen difference to distinguish between the two. Even someone like me, who splurged on a first-class ticket and held a white ticket, knows that country folks are stingy, and it seems that even a mere two sen is a significant burden for them, so most of them ride in second class. After the man in the red shirt, Madonna and her mother entered the first-class carriage. The man known as Ura-nari always rides in second class, as if he were stamped with a printing press. The teacher stood at the entrance of the second-class compartment, looking somewhat hesitant, but as soon as he saw my face, he boldly jumped in. At that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of pity, so I immediately followed Ura-nari and boarded the same compartment. There shouldn't be any inconvenience riding in second class with a first-class ticket.

Upon arriving at the hot spring, when I descended to the bath in a yukata from the third floor, I encountered Ura-nari again. I am a man who usually struggles to speak eloquently when it matters, but normally I am quite articulate, so I tried to engage Ura-nari in conversation while in the bath. I felt an overwhelming sense of pity for him. I believe it is an Edoite's duty to comfort the other party's heart, even if just a little, at such times. However, unfortunately, Ura-nari did not respond well to my attempts to engage him. No matter what I said, he only replied with "eh" or "no," and those responses seemed quite troublesome for him, so in the end, I finally wrapped it up and said sorry from my side.

When I got out of the bath, the moon was shining beautifully. On both sides of the town, willows were planted, their branches casting round shadows on the road. I headed north, thinking of taking a little walk, and when I reached the outskirts of the town, I saw a large gate on my left. At the end of that gate was a temple, with brothels lined up on either side. It was an unprecedented sight to have a red-light district within the mountain gate. I felt a bit curious to go in, but thinking I might encounter the raccoon during a meeting again, I decided to pass by.

There was a small single-story building with a black curtain hanging in the row of gates, which was the place where I had previously failed while eating dumplings. The round lanterns had "shiratama" and "ozoni" written on them, and the light from the lantern illuminated the trunk of a single willow tree at the eaves. I wanted to eat some, but I held back and passed by.

It's pathetic that I can't eat dumplings. However, it's even more pathetic that my fiancée has shifted her heart to someone else. Thinking of Urana-kun, I couldn't even complain about a three-day fast, let alone dumplings. There's nothing as unreliable as humans. When I see that face, I just can't believe that they could do something so cruel, but since beautiful people can be cold-hearted, and Mr. Koga, who is waterlogged like a winter melon, is a good-natured gentleman, I can't let my guard down. I thought the mountain storm was indifferent, but it seems to have incited the students, and just when I thought it had incited the students, now it's demanding action from the principal. The red shirt, which seemed to be made of sarcasm, unexpectedly gives kind warnings, and perhaps they are deceiving the Madonna or being deceived themselves. Koga says he doesn't wish to marry unless the engagement is broken, and just when I think that Iga is trying to make excuses to kick me out, the public in the field changes immediately—it's utterly unreliable no matter how you think about it. If I wrote this to Kiyoshi, he would surely be surprised. Since it's beyond Hakone, he might say that monsters are gathering there.

I have a nature that doesn't really care, so I've managed to get by without any trouble until today. However, since coming here, within less than a month, the world has suddenly started to feel dangerous. Even though I haven't encountered any particularly striking major incidents, I feel as if I've aged five or six years. It would be best to wrap things up quickly and return to Tokyo. While thinking about such things, I found myself crossing the stone bridge and arriving at the embankment of the Noseki River. The flow of the river, which is almost too trivial to be called a river, trickles along, and if you go down about twelve chō along the bank, you reach Aioi Village. The village has a Kannon statue.

Looking back at the hot spring town, the red lights are shining in the moonlight. The sound of drums can be heard from the pleasure quarters. The river's flow is shallow but fast, sparkling like nervous water. As I stroll along the top of the embankment, after about three chō, I begin to see figures ahead. When viewed through the moonlight, there are two shadows. They might be young people returning from the hot springs to the village. Even so, they are surprisingly quiet, not even singing.

As I get closer, it seems that I am walking faster, and the two shadows gradually grow larger. One appears to be female. Perhaps noticing my footsteps, when they got within about ten ken, the man suddenly turned around. The moon is shining from behind. At that moment, I looked at the man's appearance and couldn't help but think, "What?" The man and woman resumed walking as before. I had a thought in mind, so I suddenly chased after them at full speed. They seemed unconcerned and continued to walk leisurely as before. Now I can clearly hear their voices. The width of the embankment is about six shaku, so if we walk side by side, three people can barely pass. I easily caught up from behind, brushed past the man's sleeve, and turned my heel to peek at the man's face. The moon is shining directly on my buzz cut head and chin without any acknowledgment. The man said, "Ah," in a low voice, but suddenly turned to the side and urged the woman to go home, then turned back toward the hot spring town.

Was the man in the red shirt being brazen and trying to deceive, or was he just too timid to introduce himself? However, I was not the only one who was feeling cramped.