Ten

by Natsume Sōseki

The day of the victory celebration, the school was closed. Since a ceremony was to be held at the training ground, Tanuki had to lead the students to participate. As a member of the staff, I also ended up going along with them.

When we went out into the town, the Hinomaru flags were displayed in abundance, creating a dazzling sight. With eight hundred students in the school, the gymnastics teacher organized the formation, spacing out each group little by little, while one or two staff members were assigned to supervise each group. The arrangement itself was very clever, but in reality, it was quite a mess. Although the students were small children, they were cheeky and believed that breaking the rules affected their dignity, so no matter how many staff members accompanied them, it was completely useless.

They sang military songs on their own without any orders, and when the songs stopped, they raised loud battle cries for no reason, as if they were ronin parading through the town. When there were no military songs or battle cries, they were chattering about something. It seemed like they could walk without talking, but since all Japanese people are born with their mouths first, no matter how much scolding was done, they wouldn’t listen. What they talked about was just badmouthing the teachers, which was truly lowly.

I thought it would be fine since I made the students apologize for the incident during the night duty. However, the reality was completely different. Borrowing the words of the old lady from the boarding house, it was indeed a huge difference. The students apologized not out of genuine regret, but merely bowed their heads formally as ordered by the principal. Just like a merchant who bows their head but doesn't stop their cunning ways, the students also apologize but never cease their mischief. Upon reflection, perhaps the world is made up of people just like these students. It could be said that those who take apologies and apologies seriously and forgive are simply too honest and foolish. If one thinks that apologies are merely for show and forgiveness is also just for show, then there is no problem. If one truly wants to make someone apologize, they must be struck hard until they genuinely regret it.

As I stepped between the groups, I constantly heard voices saying "tempura" and "dango." However, because there were so many people, I couldn't tell who was saying it. Even if I understood, it wasn't that they were calling me tempura or dango; it was just that the teacher was neurotic, so it sounded that way, and I could only make excuses. This kind of despicable mentality has been nurtured as a custom in this land since feudal times, and no matter how much I try to explain or teach, it will never change. If I stay in such a place for a year, even I, who am innocent, might have to imitate this behavior. I cannot allow them to tarnish my face with means that would let them escape easily. If they are human, then I am human too. The students and children are physically larger than I am. Therefore, it would be wrong not to retaliate in some way as a form of punishment. However, if I retaliate using normal means, I will be countered in a twisted manner from their side. When they say, "It's your fault," a way out has already been created from the very first move, and they will argue endlessly. After being argued against, they will present themselves as respectable while attacking my faults. Since it was originally a retaliation, my defense will not hold unless their faults are brought up. In other words, even though they initiated the attack, it will appear to the public as if I started the fight. This is a significant disadvantage. If that’s the case, if they act as they please or behave like foolish children, they will only become more arrogant, and to put it broadly, it will not benefit society. Therefore, out of necessity, I will have to retaliate in a way that cannot be caught using their methods. It has come to that.If it goes on like this, even the Edoites are no good. It's no good, but since I've been doing this for a year, I’m human too, and if it’s no good, I have to deal with it somehow. The best thing is to return to Tokyo quickly and be with Kiyo. Being in this countryside feels like coming here to decay. Even delivering newspapers is better than decaying this much.

As I was thinking this, suddenly the front started to make a commotion. At the same time, the line came to a complete stop. Thinking it was strange, I moved to the right to see what was happening, and at the corner where Otemachi meets and turns into Yakushimachi, there was a deadlock, with people pushing back and forth in a scuffle. When I asked the gymnastics teacher, who was hoarsely urging everyone to be quiet, what had happened, he said that the middle school and the teacher training school had collided at the corner.

It seems that middle schools and teacher training schools are as hostile as dogs and monkeys in any prefecture. I don’t know why, but it’s as if their spirits don’t match. They get into fights over anything. Most likely, it’s a job they do to pass the time because they’re bored in the narrow countryside. I like fights, so when I heard about the collision, I ran over half in amusement. Then the people in front were repeatedly shouting, “You local tax, pull them in!” From behind, a loud voice shouted, “Push, push!” As I was trying to slip through the students who were in the way and was about to emerge at the corner, I heard a sharp command of “Forward!” and then the teacher training school quietly began to march. The collision that had been a race to the front must have reached an agreement, meaning that the middle school had given way a step. In terms of qualifications, it seems that the teacher training school is superior.

The victory ceremony was very simple. The brigade commander read a congratulatory message, the governor read a congratulatory message, and the attendees shouted "banzai." That was the end of it. The entertainment would take place in the afternoon, so for the time being, I returned to my lodging and tried to write a reply to Kiyo, which I had been thinking about for a long time. This time, I was asked to write in more detail, so I had to write as carefully as possible. However, when I actually tried to write, many things came to mind, but I didn't know where to start. Should I go with that, but it's a hassle. Should I go with this, but it's boring. I couldn't come up with an interesting story for Kiyo, and I fell into deep thought.

I ground the ink, held the brush, and stared at the roll of paper—after repeating the same action many times, I gave up on writing the letter and closed the lid of the inkstone. Writing a letter is a hassle. After all, it would be easier to go out to Tokyo and talk in person. I understand Kiyo's worries, but writing a letter like Kiyo wants is more painful than fasting for thirty-seven days.

I threw down the brush and roll of paper and lay down while gazing at the garden, but I still couldn't shake off my concern for Kiyo. At that moment, I thought this: since I've come so far and am worried about Kiyo's well-being, my sincere feelings must surely reach Kiyo. If they reach Kiyo, there’s no need to send a letter. Even without a letter, Kiyo would probably think I’m living safely. I can reach out when I die, when I'm sick, or when something happens.

The garden is a flat area of about ten tsubo, with no particularly noticeable plants. There is just one orange tree, which has grown tall enough to stand out even from outside the fence. When I come home, I always gaze at this orange. For someone who has never left Tokyo, the sight of oranges bearing fruit is extremely rare. I imagine that as those green fruits gradually ripen and turn yellow, they must be beautiful. Even now, there are some that have changed color halfway. When I asked my grandmother, she said they are very juicy and delicious oranges. She told me that once they ripen, I will be able to eat a lot, so I think I will eat a little bit every day. In about three weeks, I should be able to eat enough. Surely, I won't be leaving here within three weeks.

As I was thinking about the oranges, coincidentally, Yama-arashi came to talk to me. He said that since today is a victory celebration, he bought beef to share a feast together, and he dragged out something wrapped in bamboo leaves from his sleeve and threw it in the middle of the tatami room. Since I have been eating sweet potatoes and tofu at the boarding house, and I am forbidden from going to soba shops or dango shops, I was grateful and immediately borrowed a pot and sugar from my grandmother to prepare for cooking.

While Yama-arashi innocently stuffed his cheeks with beef, he asked, "Do you know that guy in the red shirt is close with a geisha?" When I said I knew, and that one of the people who came to the farewell party was probably that person, he praised me greatly, saying, "That's right, I just recently realized it, but you are quite perceptive."

"That guy, while he often talks about character and spiritual entertainment, is secretly involved with geishas, which is quite suspicious. It's one thing if he allows others to have fun, but he even restricts you from going to soba shops or dango shops and has warned you through the principal."

“Yeah, according to that guy's thinking, a relationship with a geisha is a form of mental entertainment, while tempura and dango are physical entertainment. If it's mental entertainment, he should just be more bold about it. What is that attitude? When a familiar geisha comes in, he sneaks out to avoid her, which shows how deceitful he is, and I can't stand it. And when someone attacks him, he tries to confuse people by saying he doesn't know, or that it's Russian literature, or that haiku is a brother of modern poetry. A coward like that is not a man at all. He's completely like a reincarnation of a palace maid or something. Maybe that guy's father is from the Yushima Kage-ma.”

“What is Yushima Kage-ma?”

“It's something that isn't manly at all. — You, that part hasn't boiled yet. Eating that will give you intestinal worms.”

“I see, usually it should be fine. So, the guy in the red shirt is hiding and going to the Kakuya in the hot spring town to meet with a geisha.”

“Kakuya, is that the inn?”

“It's an inn and a restaurant. So, to really trouble him, we need to witness him bringing a geisha in there and confront him face to face.”

“Are you going to watch him at night?”

“Yeah, there’s an inn called Masuya in front of Kakuya. I’ll rent the second floor and make a hole in the shoji to watch.”

“Will he come while you’re watching?”

“He will. It won't just be one night. You have to be prepared to do it for about two weeks.”

“That sounds exhausting. When my father was dying, I stayed up for a week to take care of him, but later I was dazed and very tired.”

“A little fatigue in the body doesn't matter. If we leave that scoundrel as he is, it won't be good for Japan, so I will carry out punishment on behalf of heaven.”

“That sounds delightful. If that's the case, I'll join in too. So, are you going to do the night watch starting tonight?”

"I haven't negotiated with the masuya yet, so tonight is not possible."

"Then, when do you plan to start?"

"I'll do it soon. I'll let you know when the time comes, so please lend your support then."

"Alright, I'll support you anytime. I'm not good at schemes, but when it comes to fighting, I'm quite nimble."

Yamaarashi and I were enthusiastically discussing a plan to deal with the red shirt. Then, the inn's old woman appeared and said, "A student from school has come to see Mr. Hotta. They visited your place, but since you weren't home, they must have tracked this place down." She knelt at the threshold, waiting for Yamaarashi's response.

Yamaarashi said, "Is that so?" and went out to the entrance, but quickly returned and said, "Hey, the student came to invite you to see the victory celebration's entertainment. Today, many people have come all the way from Kochi to perform a dance, so let's definitely go watch. They say it's a dance you rarely get to see. You should come along." He was very enthusiastic in inviting me.

I've seen plenty of dances in Tokyo. Every year, during the Hachiman festival, stalls come around the neighborhood, so I'm quite familiar with things like shiozumi. I thought I wouldn't want to see the Tosa-style silly dance, but since Yamaarashi was recommending it, I ended up feeling like going and headed to the gate. The one who came to invite Yamaarashi was the younger brother of the red shirt. What a strange guy he was.

Upon entering the venue, long flags were set up here and there, similar to the sumo at Eikoin or the ceremony at Honmonji, with flags from countries around the world borrowed and ropes and cords stretched out. The large sky looked unusually lively. In the eastern corner, a makeshift stage was set up, where some dance from Kochi was to be performed. To the right of the stage, there was a bamboo fence with arranged ikebana. Everyone was admiring it, but to be honest, it was something trivial. If they were so pleased bending grass and bamboo, they might as well boast about having a handsome guy or a lame husband.

In the opposite direction from the stage, fireworks were being launched one after another. Balloons emerged from the fireworks, floating gently above the pine tree of the main shrine, with "Long Live the Empire" written on them, and they fell into the military camp. Next, with a pop, a black ball shot up as if to pierce the autumn sky, bursting above my head, and blue smoke spread out like the ribs of an umbrella, flowing languidly into the air. Once again, a balloon rose. This time, one that read "Long Live the Army and Navy" in white on a red background swayed in the wind, flying towards Aioi Village from the hot spring town. It probably fell in the precincts of the Kannon temple.

It wasn't so crowded during the ceremony, but this time there were a tremendous number of people. I was surprised to see so many people living in the countryside, as they were gathered in swarms. There weren't many intelligent-looking faces, but in terms of numbers, they certainly couldn't be underestimated. Among them, the highly reputed Kochi dance began. I thought it would be a Fujima or some kind of dance, but that was a big mistake.

Men wearing stern back headbands and traditional trousers stood in three rows of ten on the stage. I was astonished that all thirty of them were armed with drawn swords. The space between the front and back rows was only about one shaku and five sun, and the gaps on the left and right weren't very long either. There was just one man who had stepped away from the line and stood at the edge of the stage. This outlier was wearing trousers but no back headband, and instead of a sword, he had a drum hanging on his chest. The drum was the same as the one used in the taikogaku. This man soon began to sing a strange tune with a carefree voice, hitting the drum with a thud, thud. The melody of the song was unprecedentedly mysterious, and if one thought of it as a blend of Mikawa Banzai and Fudaraku, it wouldn't be a significant mistake.

The song is very leisurely, slovenly like summer's water candy, but because they insert a "bokobon" to take breaks, it may seem continuous, yet the rhythm can be maintained. In accordance with this rhythm, the thirty drawn swords shine brightly, but this is also an extremely swift maneuver, making it quite nerve-wracking to watch. There are living humans within a span of one shaku five sun beside and behind, and those humans are making their drawn swords behave just like their own, so if the timing is not well coordinated, it could lead to friendly fire and injuries. If they were to only swing their swords back and forth or up and down without moving, there would still be no danger, but there are times when all thirty step in unison and turn sideways. They may also turn around completely. There are moments when they bend their knees. If the person next to you is even a second too early or too late, your own nose might get cut off. The head of the person next to you might be severed. The movement of the drawn swords is completely free, but the range of that movement is limited to a one shaku five sun square pillar, and they must flash in the same direction and at the same speed as those in front, back, left, and right. This is astonishing; it is certainly beyond the reach of the tide-waiting and the gate of Sekiguchi. Upon inquiry, it seems that this requires a great deal of skill, and it is not easy to synchronize in this manner. Particularly difficult is that "bokobon" sensei of the Banzai festival. It is said that the movement of the thirty feet, the work of the hands, and the bending of the waist are all determined by this one "bokobon" boy's rhythm. Watching from the side, this general appears to be the most carefree, casually singing "ah, ha," but in reality, the responsibility is very heavy, and it is a wonder how exhausting it is.

As I and Yama-arashi were watching this dance with great interest, a sudden shout of excitement came from about half a town away, and the people who had been calmly observing the surroundings suddenly began to sway left and right like waves. Just as I heard voices saying, "It's a fight, it's a fight," the younger brother in a red shirt, who had slipped through the crowd, said, "Sensei, there's another fight. They are starting a showdown with the teacher from the middle school as revenge for this morning. Please come quickly," and then he disappeared back into the crowd.

Yama-arashi was a troublesome kid. I thought, "Has it started again? He should just let it go," as I dodged the fleeing people and took off running. I couldn't just stand there watching, so I must have tried to restrain him. Of course, I had no intention of running away. I chased after Yama-arashi and quickly made my way to the scene.

The fight was in full swing. There were probably about fifty to sixty students from the teacher training school, while the middle school students were certainly about thirty percent more. The teacher trainees were in uniform, but the middle school students had mostly changed into Japanese clothes after the ceremony, so it was easy to tell friend from foe. However, as they were entangled and fighting, I had no idea where to start or how to break it up.

Yama-arashi looked troubled and stared at the chaotic scene for a while, but now that it had come to this, there was no helping it. It would be a hassle if the police came. He looked at me and said he would jump in to break it up, but without replying, I leaped right into the thick of the fiercest fighting. "Stop it, stop it! If you act so violently, it will affect the school's reputation!" I shouted as loudly as I could, trying to break through what seemed to be the dividing line between friend and foe, but it didn't go well at all.

As I moved forward a couple of steps, I found myself unable to advance or retreat. In front of me, a relatively large student teacher was grappling with a middle school student around fifteen or sixteen years old. I shouted, "Stop!" but when he didn't, I grabbed the student teacher's shoulder and tried to pull him apart forcefully. At that moment, someone swept my feet from underneath. Caught off guard, I released the shoulder I was holding and fell sideways. There was someone who had stepped on my back with hard shoes. When I pushed myself up with my hands and knees, the person who had been on top of me rolled off to the right.

When I got up and looked, I could see the large body of Yamaarashi wedged between the students about three spaces away, being pushed back while shouting, "Stop, stop! Stop the fight!" I tried to say, "Hey, this is absolutely no good," but he didn't seem to hear me and didn't respond.

A stone flew through the air with a whoosh and suddenly hit my cheekbone, and then someone behind me struck my back with a stick. I could hear the voice of a teacher saying, "Hit him, hit him," despite being a teacher. There were two teachers, one large and one small. I also heard someone shouting, "Throw stones." I thought to myself, "What a cheeky thing to say, you country bumpkin," and I slammed the head of the student teacher next to me.

Another stone flew through the air. This time it grazed my buzz cut and flew off behind me. I couldn't see what had happened to Yamaarashi. Given the situation, there was no choice. I had initially entered to stop the fight, but after being hit and having stones thrown at me, I couldn't back down in fear. "Who do you think I am? Even if I'm short, I'm a brother who has trained in the art of fighting," I shouted wildly as I slapped and got slapped back, until eventually I heard someone shout, "It's the police, run!"

Until now, I had felt like I was swimming in a thick mixture and couldn't move at all, but suddenly it became easier, and both enemies and allies simultaneously retreated. Even country bumpkins can retreat skillfully. They were even better than Kuropatkin.

When I looked at Yama-arashi, he had torn his formal haori to shreds and was wiping his nose over there. It seemed he had bled quite a bit from being hit on the nose. His nose was swollen, bright red, and extremely unsightly. I had gotten muddy because I was wearing a light jacket, but I didn't suffer as much damage as Yama-arashi's haori. However, my cheeks were stinging unbearably. Yama-arashi told me, "You're bleeding quite a bit."

Around fifteen or sixteen police officers came, but since the students retreated in the opposite direction, only Yama-arashi and I were caught. After we told our names and explained the whole situation, we were told to come to the police station, and we went to the police station where we recounted the events in front of the chief, and finally returned to our lodgings.