Five (1/3)

by Natsume Sōseki

To write down everything that happened in twenty-four hours and to read it without missing anything would take at least twenty-four hours. No matter how much I advocate for descriptive writing, I must admit that this is a task beyond the capabilities of even a cat. Therefore, it is very unfortunate that I lack the ability and patience to convey each of my master's peculiar actions and words, which are worthy of detailed description, to the readers, even though he is constantly engaging in them. However, while it is unfortunate, it cannot be helped. Cats also need their rest.

After Suzuki-kun and Meitei-kun left, a cold wind blew, and the room fell silent like a snowy night where tranquility descends. My master, as usual, locked himself in his study, while the children were sleeping with their futons laid out in the six-tatami room. In the south-facing room, separated by a sliding door, my wife is lying down, holding our three-year-old daughter, Menko-san. Amidst the flower-clouded sky, the hastily setting sun makes even the sound of wooden clogs passing outside seem to resonate in the tea room. From the boarding house in the neighboring town, the sound of a flute intermittently breaks the silence, occasionally providing a dull stimulus to my sleepy ears. Outside, it is probably a hazy scene. After having abalone in half-dried broth for dinner, I definitely need some rest.

According to what I heard, there is a phenomenon in the world called "cat love," which refers to a haiku hobby, and there are nights in early spring when the local families walk around in high spirits. However, I have yet to encounter such a mental change. Love, in the first place, is a cosmic vitality, and it is common for all living beings, from the heavenly god Jupiter to the earthworms and crickets that cry in the soil, to become enamored with this path. Therefore, it is not surprising that we express a vague and tumultuous aesthetic. Looking back, there was a time when I was infatuated with a calico cat. There are even rumors that the daughter of the triangle theory's proponent, Kaneda-kun, and Tomiko Abe River fell in love with Kangugetsu-kun. Thus, on a priceless spring night, while my heart is filled with the sight of male and female cats swirling madly in the sky, I have no feeling of contempt for such desires as delusions of worldly attachments, but no matter how much I am tempted, such feelings do not arise. Right now, I only seek rest. I am so sleepy that I cannot even think of love. I slowly turned to the edge of the child's futon and fell comfortably into sleep.

When I suddenly opened my eyes, my husband had somehow come from the study to the bedroom and had crawled into the futon spread out next to my wife. As a habit, he always brings back a small book with foreign letters from the study when he goes to bed. However, he has never read this book for two pages straight while lying down. Sometimes he just brings it and places it next to his pillow without even touching it. If he isn't going to read a single line, there would be no need to bring it at all, but that is precisely what makes him the master; no matter how much my wife laughs or asks him to stop, he never agrees. Every night, he goes out of his way to carry unread books to the bedroom. Sometimes he even greedily brings three or four volumes at once. Just the other day, he even brought the Webster's Dictionary with him every night. I think this is a sickness of my husband; just as a luxurious person cannot fall asleep without hearing the sound of the pine wind at Ryobundo, my husband cannot sleep without having books placed next to his pillow. When I think about it that way, for him, books are not meant to be read but are tools to induce sleep. They are like printed sleeping pills.

When I peeked in, thinking there might be something tonight as well, I found a thin red book half-open and lying at a position where it was caught on the tip of my husband's mustache. From the fact that my husband's left thumb was stuck between the pages of the book, it seems he has read an unusual five or six lines tonight. Next to the red book, as usual, was his nickel pocket watch, radiating a cold color unbefitting of spring.

The wife threw the nursing child about a foot away, opened her mouth, and was snoring, having removed the pillow. For humans, there is probably nothing more unsightly than sleeping with their mouth open. Cats, for instance, have never experienced such shame in their lives. Originally, the mouth is a tool for making sounds, while the nose is for inhaling and exhaling air. However, in the northern regions, there are some who, due to laziness, have become frugal and do not open their mouths, using their noses for language instead, but I think that breathing only through the mouth while keeping the nose closed is even more unsightly than those who use their noses. First of all, it would be dangerous if mouse droppings fell from the ceiling.

Looking at the children, they too are sprawled out in a manner not inferior to their parents. The older sister, Tonko, stretches her right hand far out as if to say that this is the privilege of an older sister, placing it on her younger sister's ear. In retaliation, the younger sister, Sunku, raises one foot and steps back onto her sister's stomach. Both have certainly rotated at least ninety degrees from their sleeping positions. Nevertheless, while maintaining this unnatural posture, both are soundly asleep without complaining.

Indeed, the spring light is exceptional. Behind this scene, which is carefree yet extremely elegant, it seems to shine brightly as if to lament the good night. As I look around the room, I wonder what time it is; the surroundings are silent, and the only sounds are the ticking of the grandfather clock and the snoring of my wife, along with the distant sound of the maid grinding her teeth. This maid, when told that she grinds her teeth, always denies it. She stubbornly claims that she has no memory of ever grinding her teeth since the day she was born, and she neither intends to correct it nor feels sorry about it, merely insisting that she has no such memory. Indeed, since it is a behavior that occurs while sleeping, it is true that she has no memory of it. However, the fact exists even if one has no memory, which is troublesome. In this world, there are those who commit bad deeds while believing themselves to be good people. This is innocent enough, as they are confident that they are without sin, but the facts that trouble others cannot be erased, no matter how innocent they may be. I think such gentlemen and ladies belong to the same lineage as this maid. — It seems the night has grown quite late.

There was a light sound, a knock, on the kitchen shutters, twice. There shouldn't be anyone coming at this hour. It is probably the usual mouse. If it's a mouse, I have no intention of catching it, so it can run around as it pleases. — Again, there is a knock. It doesn't seem like a mouse. If it were a mouse, it would be quite a cautious one.

The mice in the master's house wreak havoc day and night, even while the master is away. They consider it their vocation to shatter the master's dreams, just like school students, so there is no way they would be this reserved. The sound just now is certainly not from a mouse. Just the other day, one of them sneaked into the master's bedroom and joyfully returned after nibbling on the master's nose, so there is no way it could be this timid.

This time, a sound like "gee" was heard as the rain shutters were lifted from below. At the same time, the sound of the sliding of the sliding door along the groove could be heard as quietly as possible. It is indeed not a rat. It is a human. If a human were to enter at this late hour without any guidance and unlock the door, it would not be Mr. Meitei or Suzuki-kun. It could be a famous thief. If it really is a thief, I would like to see their face quickly.

The thief seems to have lifted a large foot onto the kitchen and taken about two steps forward. Just when I thought it was the third step, they placed their foot on the raised board, making a sound that shattered the night's silence. I felt as if the hair on my back was being rubbed the wrong way by a shoe brush. For a while, no footsteps could be heard. When I looked at my wife, she was still with her mouth open, deeply inhaling the peaceful air. The master must be dreaming of a red book being pinched by his thumb.

Eventually, the sound of a match being struck was heard from the kitchen. It seems that the thief is not as good at seeing in the darkness of the night as I am. The situation must be inconvenient for them.

At that moment, I thought while crouching. Would the thief come out from the kitchen into the living room, or would they turn left, pass through the entrance, and go into the study? -- The footsteps, along with the sound of the sliding door, went towards the veranda. The thief finally entered the study. After that, there was no sound or presence.

I wanted to wake the master and his wife quickly during this time, but I had no idea how to wake them up; thoughts were just swirling in my head like a waterwheel, with no discernment coming to mind. I thought I would try shaking the edge of the futon by biting it, and I did so two or three times, but it had no effect at all. I thought I would try rubbing my cold nose against their cheek, so I brought it close to the master's face, but he remained asleep and stretched out his hand widely, pushing my nose away. The nose is a vital point for a cat as well. The pain is severe.

Since there was no other way, I tried to wake up by meowing twice, but for some reason, at that moment, it felt like something was stuck in my throat, and I couldn't produce the voice I wanted. Finally, I managed to let out a low voice, and to my surprise, while my master showed no signs of waking up, the sound of a thief's footsteps suddenly began to be heard. They were approaching, crunching along the porch. They've finally come, I thought, and realizing that it was hopeless, I decided to hide between the sliding door and the willow trunk and watch the situation.

The thief's footsteps stopped right in front of the bedroom's shoji. I held my breath and desperately thought about what would happen next. Looking back, I never feel this way when catching a mouse. My soul felt like it was about to leap out of both my eyes. I am truly grateful for the enlightenment that I gained thanks to the thief, which I will never experience again.

At that moment, the middle of the shoji frame changed color as if it were wet from the rain, and as I thought the pale pink was gradually deepening, the paper had somehow torn, revealing a red tongue that flicked out. The tongue disappeared into the darkness for a while. In its place, something terrifyingly shiny appeared on the other side of the torn hole. Without a doubt, it was the thief's eye. Strangely, that eye seemed to be staring only at me, who was hiding behind the willow trunk, without seeing anything else in the room.

It was less than a minute, but being glared at like that made me feel like my lifespan was shortening. Just as I could no longer bear it and decided to leap out from behind the trunk, the bedroom's shoji slid open smoothly, and the long-awaited thief finally appeared right in front of me.

I have the honor of introducing the thief who unexpectedly appeared in this place, but before that, I would like to express some of my thoughts. The ancient gods are revered as omniscient and omnipotent. In particular, the God of Christianity maintains this omniscient and omnipotent image even in the twentieth century. However, the omniscience and omnipotence that ordinary people think of can sometimes be interpreted as ignorance and incompetence. This is clearly contradictory. I can't help but feel a bit conceited when I think that I am the only one who has unraveled this contradiction since the creation of heaven and earth. That is why I want to state the reasons here and make arrogant humans realize that even cats should not be underestimated.

It is said that all things in heaven and earth were created by God. Considering this, humans should also be God's creations. In fact, the Bible states this as well. Now, there is a fact that humans have observed themselves over thousands of years and have come to acknowledge God's omniscience and omnipotence. That is, despite the large number of humans, there is not a single person with the same face. While the shapes of faces vary, the sizes and features are generally similar. In other words, although they are all made from the same materials, not a single one has resulted in the same outcome. I cannot help but admire the creator who has conceived such vastly different faces from such simple materials. Without a great deal of original imagination, such variations would not occur.

Considering that even a single painter, despite putting forth their utmost effort, can only create at most twelve or thirteen different faces when seeking variation, I must say that the skill of God, who manufactured humans all at once, is truly remarkable. Since it is an unfathomable technique that cannot be witnessed in human society, it would not be a problem to call this an omnipotent skill. In this regard, humans seem to harbor a great deal of fear towards God. Indeed, from the perspective of human observation, it is understandable that they would be in awe.

However, from the perspective of cats, the same fact can be interpreted as proof of God's incompetence. Even if God is not completely incompetent, it can be concluded that He never possesses abilities greater than humans. It is said that God created as many faces as there are humans, but it is unclear whether He had such changes in mind from the beginning, or if He intended for everyone to have the same face but ended up in this chaotic state due to failure. The structure of their faces may be seen as evidence of God's success, but at the same time, it also appears to be a trace of failure. It can be said that He is omnipotent, but it would not be inappropriate to describe Him as incompetent.

It is unfortunate that human eyes are arranged in a flat plane, preventing them from seeing both sides at the same time and only allowing half of things to enter their field of vision. From a different perspective, this simple fact continues to occur day and night in their society, but they themselves are unable to realize it because they are, on the contrary, swallowed by God. If it is difficult to show changes in production, then demonstrating thorough imitation on top of that is equally difficult. Asking Raphael to paint two identical statues of the Virgin Mary is just as bothersome for him as forcing him to show two completely dissimilar Madonnas. In fact, painting the same thing twice may be even more difficult.

Regarding Kōbō Daishi, to say "I wish for Kūkai" in the writing style I wrote yesterday may be even more painful than being asked to change the font. The language used by humans is entirely learned through imitation. When they learn practical language from their mothers, nurses, or others, they simply repeat what they have heard, without any particular ambition. They mimic as best as they can. As language formed through imitation progresses over ten or twenty years, the natural changes in pronunciation prove that they do not possess complete imitative ability. Pure imitation is thus an extremely difficult task. Therefore, if God created humans in such a way that they are indistinguishable, all bearing the same mark, it would further demonstrate God's omnipotence, while at the same time, the arbitrary changes that have occurred today could also indicate that inability.

I have completely forgotten why I engaged in such a discussion. Since forgetting books is something that can happen to humans, please be lenient with cats as it is only natural. In any case, when I opened the shoji in the bedroom and saw the thief who appeared on the threshold, the above thoughts naturally welled up in my chest. Why did they arise? — I must reconsider that reason once more. — Well, the reason is as follows.

When I saw the face of the shadowy figure that appeared before me, I was astonished. That face had features so striking that they instantly erased my doubts about the quality of what God usually creates. The feature was the fact that his eyebrows and eyes resembled those of my dear friend Mizushima Kanketsu.

I am not well-versed in thieves, but from his rough behavior, I had a mental image of what a thief would look like. I had imagined him with eyes the size of a one-sen coin on either side of his nostrils and a head like a chestnut burr, but the man before me was a fine thief with a slender build and dark, straight eyebrows. He appeared to be around twenty-six or twenty-seven years old, which even reminded me of Kanketsu-kun.

If God can create two faces so similar, He cannot be called incompetent. In fact, I thought he resembled Kanketsu-kun so much that he might have jumped out in the middle of the night on a whim. However, I realized he was a different person because he did not have a faint black mustache under his nose. Kanketsu-kun is a charming young man with a hint of bitterness, possessing enough allure to easily captivate Miss Tomiko Kaneda. However, judging from his appearance, this thief is certainly not inferior to Kanketsu-kun in terms of attraction to Miss Tomiko. If Miss Kaneda was drawn to Kanketsu-kun's gaze and smile, it is only natural that she would be equally captivated by this thief with the same passion.

With such a talented personality, he would understand anything quickly, so he would probably grasp this much without needing to hear it from someone else. Thinking this way, even if I were to present this thief in place of Kanketsu-kun, he would surely dedicate all his love and bring forth the fruit of harmony. Even if, by some chance, Kanketsu-kun were to be influenced by Meitei's sermons and this ancient good fortune were to be broken, as long as this thief exists, it would be fine. I have predicted future events to this extent and finally felt at ease for Miss Tomiko. The existence of this thief in this world is a crucial element for making Miss Tomiko's life happy.

The shadowy figure is holding something to the side. It is the old blanket that the master had thrown into the study earlier. Dressed in a唐桟 half-coat, with a Hakata obi tied above his rear, and his white shins exposed from the knees down, he is trying to place one foot onto the tatami. The master, who had been dreaming of being bitten by a red book, suddenly rolled over and shouted loudly, "It's a cold moon." The shadowy figure dropped the blanket and quickly pulled back the foot he had extended. Two slender legs stood faintly moving in the shadow of the shoji. The master murmured "Hmm, mumble mumble" while pushing away the red book and scratching his black arm as if it had a skin disease. After that, it fell silent, and he fell asleep with the pillow removed. The words "It's a cold moon" seemed to be completely unconscious sleep talk.

The shadowy figure observed the movements in the room for a while, but after confirming that the master and his wife were sound asleep, he once again placed one foot onto the tatami. This time, the voice saying "It's a cold moon" could not be heard. Eventually, the remaining foot stepped in as well. The six-tatami mat room, richly illuminated by the spring light, was divided by the shadowy figure, and from the edge of the willow trunk, the wall halfway up my head turned pitch black. When I turned to look, the shadow of the figure's face was vaguely moving at about two-thirds the height of the wall. Looking only at the shadow of the handsome man, it appeared strangely like a monster with eight heads.

The shadowy figure peered down at the sleeping face of the lady and grinned for some unknown reason. I couldn't hide my surprise that even the way he smiled was a mimicry of Cold Moon-kun.

Next to the lady's pillow, there is a box about one foot and five or six inches, secured with nails, placed with great care. This is the mountain yam that Mr. Tatarasampe from Karatsu in Hizen brought back when he returned home recently. Although it is quite unusual to decorate one's pillow with mountain yam, the lady is a woman who lacks a sense of appropriateness regarding placement, as she even puts the three trays used for cooking into the utensil chest. For her, it might be fine to have mountain yam, or even pickled daikon, in the bedroom. However, the shadowy figure, not being a deity, has no way of knowing such things about her. Given that it is placed so carefully and close at hand, it is not unreasonable to conclude that it is a precious item.

The shadowy figure lifted the box of mountain yam slightly, but its weight was more than expected, and a satisfied expression appeared on his face. He was finally determined to steal the mountain yam, but suddenly found it amusing that this handsome man would steal mountain yam. However, making a noise would be dangerous, so he remained still and patient.

Eventually, the shadowy figure began to carefully wrap the box of mountain yam in an old blanket. Looking around for something to tie it with, he was fortunate to find a crepe obi that the master had discarded when going to bed. The shadowy figure securely bound the box of mountain yam with this obi and effortlessly slung it over his back. It was not a look that women would typically prefer. Then, he stuffed two children's jackets into the master's meriyasu's trousers, causing the area around the groin to bulge out roundly, resembling a blue snake that had swallowed a frog, or perhaps it would be more appropriate to describe it as the shape of a blue snake in its final month. In any case, it ended up looking strange. If you think it's a lie, you can try it yourself. The shadowy figure wrapped the meriyasu around his neck repeatedly.

Then, thinking about what to do next, I spread the master's kimono like a large furoshiki, neatly folding and wrapping up the lady's obi, the master's haori, and all sorts of miscellaneous items. I couldn't help but feel a bit impressed by that skilled and dexterous method. After that, I continued with the lady's obiage and shigoki, tied up this bundle, and hung it from one hand. While looking around to see if there was anything else to receive, I found a "Asahi" bag above the master's head and tossed it into my sleeve. I took out one from that bag, held it up to the lamp, and lit it. The smoke, deeply inhaled and exhaled, drifted around the milky white hoya, while the footsteps of the shadowy figure gradually faded away. The master and his wife were still sound asleep. Humans can be surprisingly defenseless.

I needed to rest for a while. If I kept talking continuously, my body wouldn't hold up. When I fell into a deep sleep and woke up, the spring sky was bright and clear, and at the back door, the master and his wife were talking with a police officer.

"So, you entered from here and went around to the bedroom, right? Did you two not notice anything while you were sleeping?"

"Yes," the master replied somewhat awkwardly.

"So, what time did the theft occur?" the police officer asked a difficult question. If they knew the time, nothing would have been stolen in the first place. The master and his wife, who had not noticed anything, began to consult each other about this question.

"What time was it, I wonder?"

"Well," the wife pondered. It seemed she thought she could figure it out if she thought about it.

"What time did you go to bed last night?"

"I went to bed after you did."

"Yes, I went to bed before you did."

"What time did you wake up?"

"It was around seven-thirty, I think."

"So, what time do you think the thief entered?"

"It was definitely in the middle of the night."

"I understand it was in the middle of the night, but specifically what time was it?"

"The certain thing is, I can't understand unless I think carefully," the wife still intends to think. The officer seemed to be listening formally, not caring at all about when it happened. Although he thought it would be fine if they answered something appropriate, the couple was having an unclear exchange, which made him appear a bit irritated.

"So, that means the time of the theft is unknown," the officer said, to which the husband replied in his usual tone, "Well, that's right." The officer did not laugh,

"Then, please submit a complaint stating on what date in the thirty-eighth year of Meiji you locked up and went to bed, which rain shutter the thief removed, where they sneaked in, and how many items were stolen. This is a complaint, not a report. It would be better if there is no addressee," he continued.