Five (2/3)

by Natsume Sōseki

“What about each item, how is it?”

“Well, I’ll list how many haori there are and how much they cost. But it’s no use looking at them now. They’ve already been stolen,” he said calmly and left.

The master brought out a brush and inkstone to the center of the tatami room and called his wife in front of him. “I’m going to write a report of the theft, so tell me each item that was stolen. Come on, say it.”

“Oh, no. Who would say such a thing with that kind of authority?” she said, sitting down with her obi still wrapped around her waist.

“What kind of appearance is that? You look like a failed courtesan. Why didn’t you come out with your obi properly tied?”

“If this is bad, then please buy it. Whether I’m a courtesan or whatever, it can’t be helped if it’s stolen.”

“They even stole your obi, what a terrible person. Then I’ll start writing from the obi. What kind of obi was it?”

“What kind of obi? It’s not like I have a lot. It was a black silk and crepe obi.”

“A single black silk and crepe obi—how much was it worth?”

“About six yen, I suppose.”

“You’re wearing an arrogantly expensive obi. From now on, stick to one that costs about one yen and fifty sen.”

“There’s no such obi available. That’s why I say you’re heartless. A wife, no matter how dirty she looks, doesn’t care as long as she’s fine herself.”

“Well, whatever. What’s next?”

“A woven haori. That was a gift from Aunt Kōno, and it’s completely different from the woven ones now.”

“I don’t need to hear that explanation. How much is it?”

“Fifteen yen.”

“Wearing a fifteen yen haori is unbecoming of your status.”

“Isn’t it fine? If you buy it for me, that’s all that matters.”

“What’s next?”

“One pair of black tabi.”

“Are they yours?”

“They’re yours. The cost is twenty-seven sen.”

“And after that?”

“One box of yam.”

“You even took the yam. Were you planning to boil it or make it into tororo?”

"I don't know what you're planning to do. Please go to the thief and ask."

"How much is it?"

"I don't know the price of yam."

"Then let's say around twelve yen and fifty sen."

"That's ridiculous, no matter how much you dig from Karatsu, yam can't cost twelve yen and fifty sen."

"But you say you don't know."

"I don't know, but twelve yen and fifty sen is outrageous."

"What do you mean you don't know, but twelve yen and fifty sen is outrageous? That doesn't make sense. That's why I say you're an Otanchin Paleologus."

"What did you say?"

"You're an Otanchin Paleologus."

"What is this Otanchin Paleologus?"

"It doesn't matter. Besides, my kimono hasn't shown up at all."

"Anything else is fine. Please tell me the meaning of Otanchin Paleologus."

"I told you it has no meaning."

"You could at least tell me. You're making a fool of me, aren't you? You must think people don't know English and said something bad."

"Stop saying foolish things and quickly say the rest. If you don't file a complaint soon, the goods won't be returned."

"It won't matter if I file a complaint now. More importantly, please tell me what Otanchin Paleologus means."

"You're a noisy woman, I told you it has no meaning."

"Then, there are no more goods."

"You're stubborn. Then do as you please. I won't write the theft complaint anymore."

"I won't tell you the number of items either. Since you will file the complaint yourself, I won't be troubled if you don't write it."

"Well then, that's enough," the master suddenly stood up and went into the study. The wife retreated to the tea room and sat in front of the sewing box. Both of them stared silently at the shoji for about ten minutes without doing anything.

At that moment, with great vigor, the donor of the mountain yam, Tataran Sanpei-kun, entered through the front door. Tataran Sanpei-kun was originally a student in this house, but now he has graduated from law school and is employed in the mining department of a certain company. This is also the budding of a businessman, and he is a junior of Suzuki Tojiro-kun. Sanpei-kun occasionally visits the old teacher's hermitage due to their previous relationship, and on Sundays, he plays all day and returns, so he has a close relationship with this family without any reservations.

“Mrs., it’s nice weather, isn’t it?” he said, kneeling in front of his wife in his trousers with a Karatsu accent.

“Oh, Tataran-san.”

“Has the teacher gone out somewhere?”

“No, he’s in the study.”

“Mrs., if you study like the teacher, it’s poison. It’s just a Sunday, after all.”

“It’s no use telling me, so you should tell the teacher that.”

“That’s true, but…” Sanpei-kun began to say, looking around the tatami room, “I don’t see the young lady today either,” he said, half asking his wife, when Tonko and Sunku came running in from the next room.

“Tataran-san, did you bring sushi today?” Tonko, the older sister, remembered their promise from the other day and immediately urged Sanpei-kun as soon as she saw his face. Tataran-kun scratched his head and said,

“You remember well. I’ll definitely bring it next time. I forgot today,” he confessed.

“No way,” the sister said, and the younger sister immediately imitated her, adding, “No way.” The wife finally cheered up and smiled a little.

“I didn’t bring sushi, but I brought mountain yam. I wonder if the young lady has eaten it?”

“What’s mountain yam?” the sister asked, and the younger sister also imitated her, asking Sanpei-kun, “What’s mountain yam?”

“You haven’t eaten it yet? Hurry and have your mother cook it. The mountain yam from Karatsu is different from the one in Tokyo and is delicious,” Sanpei-kun boasted, and the wife finally realized,

“Tataran-san, thank you very much for your kindness the other day.”

"How is it? Did you try it? I made the box so it wouldn't break and packed it tightly, so it should have stayed long."

"However, the mountain yam I received was stolen by a thief last night."

"A thief? What a foolish person. Is there really a man who likes mountain yam that much?" Sanpei-kun expressed his great admiration.

"Mom, did a thief break in last night?" the sister asked.

"Yes," the wife replied lightly.

"What kind of face did the thief have when he broke in?" this time the younger sister asked. The wife was at a loss for how to respond to this strange question,

"He came in with a scary face," she answered, looking towards Tatara-kun.

"Tatara-san's face looks a bit scary, doesn't it?" the sister replied sympathetically.

"Please don't say such rude things," Tatara-kun countered.

"Hahaha, is my face really that scary? That's troubling," he laughed while scratching his head. On the back of Tatara-kun's head, there was a bald spot about an inch in diameter. It had started to appear a month ago, and although he had seen a doctor, it didn't seem to be healing anytime soon. The first one to notice this bald spot was his sister, Tonko.

"Oh, Tatara-san's head is shining like mother's,"

"I wish you would keep quiet," Tatara-kun said with a slightly troubled expression.

"Mom, the thief's head was shining too," the younger sister asked. The wife and Tatara-kun couldn't help but laugh, but it was too bothersome to continue talking. The wife shooed the children away, saying, "Now, you two go play in the garden for a bit. Soon, mom will give you some delicious sweets."

"What happened to Tatara-san's head?" he asked seriously.

"It was eaten by bugs. It’s not healing well. Is your wife experiencing anything?"

"Oh no, bugs eating? Since I’m a woman, I tie my hair up, so I’ll have a little baldness."

"Baldness is all due to bacteria."

"Mine is not due to bacteria."

"Well, madam, you want to be stubborn, don't you?"

"Not everything is bacteria. But what do you call baldness in English?"

"Baldness is called bald."

"No, that's not it; there's a longer name, right?"

"If you ask the teacher, you'll know right away."

"The teacher won't tell me no matter what, so I'm asking you."

"I don't know more than bald, but what about the long one?"

"It's called otanchin paleologas. Otanchin means bald, and paleologas means head, I guess."

"That might be the case. Next time, let's go to the teacher's study and look it up in Webster. But the teacher is quite peculiar, isn't he? On such a nice day, staying at home—madam, that won't cure his stomach ailment. Please suggest he go out for cherry blossom viewing in Ueno."

"Please take him out. The teacher never listens to what women say."

"Is he still licking jam recently?"

"Yes, as usual."

"The other day, the teacher spilled it. Apparently, my wife is troubled because she says my way of licking jam is intense, but I don't intend to lick that much. She says it's some misunderstanding, so surely the young lady and madam must be licking it together—"

"Oh, Mr. Tataru, why would you say such a thing?"

"But, madam, you also have a face that looks like you would lick it."

"How can you tell such a thing from a face?"

"I don't know, but then does madam not lick it at all?"

"Well, I do lick it a little. What's wrong with that? It's ours, after all."

"Hahaha, I thought so— but really, the thief was quite a disaster, wasn't he? Did he only take mountain yams?"

"If it were just mountain yams, it wouldn't be a problem, but he took all my everyday clothes."

"That's quite troublesome. Do I have to go into debt again? I wish this cat were a dog—what a pity. Madam, please get a big dog. Cats are no good, they just eat—do they catch even a few mice?"

"I've never caught a single one. It's a truly lazy and brazen cat."

"Well, that's just how it is. You should dispose of it quickly. Should I take it and cook it?"

"Oh, Mr. Tataru, do you eat cats?"

"I have eaten them. Cats are delicious."

"That's quite bold."

I had heard that among the lower-class students, there were savages who ate cats, but I, who had always held Mr. Tataru in high regard, never dreamed he was one of them. Moreover, he was no longer a student; he had recently graduated and was a dignified Bachelor of Law, an executive at the Rokuzui Trading Company, so my surprise was all the more profound. The saying "If you see a person, think of them as a thief" was proven by the actions of Kangu Tsukigetsu the Second, but "If you see a person, think of them as a cat eater" was a truth I only realized thanks to Mr. Tataru. Living in the world brings knowledge, and while knowing things is delightful, the dangers increase day by day, and one cannot let their guard down. Becoming cunning or despicable, and donning a double armor for self-protection, are all results of knowing things, and knowing things is a sin of aging. The reason there are no decent old people is this principle; I thought it might be wiser to become one with the onions in Mr. Tataru's pot while I still could, and I shrank into a corner.

At that moment, the master, who had retreated to the study after quarreling with his wife, heard Mr. Tataru's voice and lumbered into the tea room.

"Sensei, I hear you were robbed. What a foolish thing to happen," he said first.

"The intruder is the foolish one," the master considered himself a sage to the end.

"The intruder is foolish, but it seems the one who was robbed isn't very wise either."

"The one who has nothing to lose, like Mr. Tataru, is probably the smartest," said the wife, now supporting her husband.

"But the stupidest one is this cat. Really, what is it thinking? It doesn't catch mice and ignores the thieves when they come. -- Sensei, could you give me this cat? It won't be of any use just sitting here."

"You can do that. What will you do with it?"

"I'll boil it and eat it."

The master let out a creepy laugh upon hearing this one line but didn't particularly respond, so Mr. Tataru also didn't say he wanted to eat it, which was an unexpected happiness for me. Eventually, the master changed the subject and said,

"I don't care about the cat, but I'm cold because my kimono was taken, and it's terrible," he said with a greatly depressed demeanor. Indeed, it must be cold. Until yesterday, he had been wearing two layers of cotton padding, but today he only had a half-sleeved shirt over a kimono, and since he hadn't exercised since morning, all the insufficient blood was working for his stomach, not circulating to his hands and feet at all.

"Sensei, being a teacher is absolutely no good. Just encountering a little thief makes you immediately troubled -- why not change your mind now and become a businessman?"

"Sensei dislikes businessmen, so saying such things is pointless," the wife replied to Mr. Tataru. Of course, she wants her husband to become a businessman.

"Sensei, how many years has it been since you graduated from school?"

"This year marks the ninth year," the wife said, looking back at her husband. The master neither nodded nor denied it, just remained silent.

"Even after nine years, my salary hasn't increased, and no matter how much I study, no one praises me. It's lonely for you, isn't it?" I recited a line from a poem I learned in middle school for the wife, but she seemed a bit flustered and didn't respond.

"Of course I dislike teachers, but I dislike businessmen even more," the master seemed to be pondering what he actually liked in his heart.

"Since you dislike everything about teachers..."

"Is it only your wife that you don't dislike?" Tatarakun made a joke that was uncharacteristic of him.

"It's the most disliked," the master answered succinctly. The lady turned to the side and thought for a moment, then looked back at the master and said.

"You must dislike being alive as well," she said, intending to deflate the master a little.

"I don't like it very much," surprisingly, a carefree reply came back. There's nothing to be done about this.

"Teacher, if you don't take a lively walk, you'll ruin your health. -- After that, please become a businessman. Making money is really easy."

"Even though you haven't made any money at all."

"You just started working at the company last year. Even so, you have more savings than the teacher."

"How much have you saved?" the lady asked eagerly.

"It's already fifty yen."

"How much is your monthly salary?" This is also a question from the lady.

"It's thirty yen. Out of that, five yen is set aside every month by the company and will be given to me when needed. -- Dear, why don't you buy a little stock in the Outer Moat Line with your pocket money? In three or four months, it will double. If you have just a little money, it can quickly become two or three times."

"If I had that kind of money, I wouldn't be troubled even if I were robbed."

"That's why being a businessman is good. If you also studied law and went to a company or a bank, you would have an income of three to four hundred yen by now, which is a pity. -- Do you know that engineer Suzuki Tojiro?"

"Yeah, he came yesterday."

"Is that so? The other day, when I met him at a party, I mentioned you, and he said, 'Oh, you were a student at Kusami's place. I used to cook for myself together with you at a temple in Koishikawa, so please say hello when you go next time. I'll visit you sometime too.'"

"I heard he recently came to Tokyo."

"Yes, I was in the coal mines of Kyushu until now, but I was recently transferred to Tokyo. It's quite nice. They talk to me like a friend. -- Teacher, how much do you think that man earns?"

"I don't know."

"His monthly salary is 250 yen, and he gets bonuses during the New Year and Obon, so on average it comes to about 400 or 500 yen. That kind of man is living well, and yet you, Teacher, have been with the leader for ten years, it's quite foolish, isn't it?"

"In reality, it does seem foolish," even a person as detached as the master has a sense of money that is no different from ordinary people. No, perhaps because he is in distress, he wants money even more. Since Tataru-kun had exhausted the topic of the businessman’s profits, he had nothing more to say.

"Madam, does a person named Mizushima Kanketsu come to see the teacher?"

"Yes, he comes quite often."

"What kind of person is he?"

"He is said to be a very learned individual."

"Is he a handsome man?"

"Hohoho, he is about as good-looking as Tataru-san."

"Is that so? Is he as good-looking as me?" Tataru-kun has a serious expression.

"How do you know the name Kanketsu?" the master asks.

"The other day, someone asked me about him. Is he a person worth asking about?" Tataru-kun is already more on guard than Kanketsu before even asking.

"He is a much more respectable man than you."

"Is that so? Is he more respectable than me?" he says without laughing or getting angry, which is characteristic of Tataru-kun.

"Will he become a doctor soon?"

"I hear he is currently writing a thesis."

"He really is foolish. I thought he would be someone who could talk a bit more if he is writing a doctoral thesis."

"As always, you have quite the insight," says the wife with a laugh.

"He mentioned that once he becomes a doctor, he would consider marrying someone's daughter, but is there really such a fool? To become a doctor just to marry a daughter, it would be much better to give her to me than to someone like him, I told him."

"To whom?"

"He is the man who asked me to inquire about Mizushima."

"Isn't that Suzuki?"

"No, I can't say that about that person yet. They are a big deal."

"Tataru-san is like a shadowy Benkei. He may act very proud when he comes here, but he must shrink in front of Suzuki-san."

"Yes. If he doesn't, it would be dangerous."

"Tataru, shall we go for a walk?" the master suddenly said. It had been cold with just one layer of clothing, so the master made this unprecedented suggestion thinking that a little exercise would warm him up. Tataru-kun, who was spontaneous, of course had no reason to hesitate.

"Let's go. Shall we go to Ueno? Or should we go to Imozaka and eat some dumplings? Sensei, have you ever eaten dumplings there? Ma'am, you should go there and try them once. They are soft and cheap. They also serve alcohol," the master said, already wearing his hat and taking off his shoes as he went downstairs, chatting in his usual disordered manner.

I need a little rest. I have no courage to follow them to find out what the master and Tataru-kun were doing in Ueno Park or how many plates of dumplings they ate at Imozaka, so I must skip that part and take a break. Rest is a right that all beings possess, and those who live in this world need to rest to fulfill that duty. If God were to say, "You were not born to work, but to sleep," I would respond, "I was born to work, so I seek rest in order to work."

Even a strong man like Kikyōkan, who complains about machines like a master, sometimes takes a break for himself on days other than Sunday. It is only natural that someone like me, who is sensitive and troubled by many thoughts, needs more rest than a master, even if I am a cat. However, I am a bit concerned that Takahara-kun just now insulted me as a luxury item with no abilities other than taking breaks. It is troublesome that a mundane person, who is only used by things, has no activities other than sensory stimulation and only looks at superficial aspects when evaluating others. They think that unless they sweat using their behinds, they are not working.

It is said that a monk named Daruma sat in meditation until his legs rotted, but even if he does not move until vines creep in through the cracks in the wall and block the master's eyes and mouth, he is neither sleeping nor dead. His mind is always active, contemplating the reasoning of concepts like "kuzen mushō." It seems that Confucians also have their own methods of quiet sitting, but this is not about secluding oneself in a room and practicing peacefully. The vitality in his brain burns brighter than anyone else's. However, because he maintains a very quiet and dignified demeanor on the outside, ordinary people in the world slander these masters of knowledge as useless or good-for-nothing.

Such ordinary people are those who have been born with a defective vision that sees shapes but not hearts, and particularly someone like Takahara Sanpei, who is a first-rate person that sees shapes but not hearts, cannot be blamed for thinking of me as no better than dry excrement. However, it is truly unfortunate that even a master who has read books from ancient and modern times and understands the true nature of things agrees with the shallow Sanpei-kun.

However, if I take a step back and think about it, it is not unreasonable for them to look down on me. There is an old saying that loud voices do not reach the ears, and few harmonize with the poetry of spring and white snow. To those who do not wish to see activities beyond physical forms, to force them to see the brilliance of one's spirit is like demanding a monk to tie his hair or asking a tuna to give a speech, which is an unreasonable request. In the end, it is nothing more than an unreasonable order.

However, even though cats are social animals, no matter how highly they raise their own value, they must live in harmony with society to a certain extent. While it is understandable that my master, mistress, and even Sanpei-ren do not evaluate me appropriately, it would be troubling if, out of ignorance, they were to skin me and sell me to a shamisen shop, or chop my meat and serve it to Tatarakun. I am a cat who has come into this world with a destiny to use my intellect, and I am a very important being. As the saying goes, "A child of a thousand gold does not sit in the hall," seeking danger willingly is not only a personal misfortune but also goes against divine will.

Even a fierce tiger, when placed in a zoo, lives next to a filthy pig, and even a wild goose, when captured in a birdhouse, finds itself in the same place as a chick. As long as I am with common people, I cannot help but become a common cat. If I am to be a common cat, I must catch mice. -- I have finally decided to catch mice.

The other day, I heard that Japan is at war with Russia. Since I am a cat from Japan, I naturally want to support Japan. If possible, I would like to organize a mixed cat brigade to scratch at the Russian soldiers. Being as lively as I am, I could easily catch one or two mice even while sleeping if I wanted to. Long ago, when I asked a famous Zen master, "How can one attain enlightenment?" he reportedly answered, "Like a cat aiming for a mouse." To catch mice like a cat means that there is no chance of failure.

There is a saying, "A wise woman is prudent," but there probably isn't a proverb that goes, "A wise cat fails to catch a mouse." Thinking about it this way, even someone as clever as I am should be able to catch mice. Not only should I be able to catch them, but I should also not fail to catch them. The reason I haven't caught any until now is that I simply did not want to.

The spring day fades like yesterday, and the flower petals, invited by the occasional breeze, fly in through the torn shoji of the kitchen, casting shadows that reflect white in the dim light of the utility lamp. Determined to achieve a great feat tonight and surprise everyone in the house, I realized I needed to survey the battlefield in advance and grasp the terrain. The front line, of course, is not very wide. In terms of tatami mats, it might be about four mats, with one mat divided in half for the sink and the other half serving as a dirt floor for the sake shop and vegetable shop.

The hearth is a splendid one that does not suit the poor kitchen, with a shiny red copper kettle. Behind it, there is a space of two shaku left between the paneling, which is where my abalone shell is located. The six shaku close to the tea room serves as a cupboard for bowls, plates, and small dishes, further narrowing the already cramped kitchen, and it is at a height that nearly touches the exposed shelf extending sideways. Below it, a suribachi is placed upside down, with the bottom of a small bucket facing me inside it. Next to the hanging daikon grater and surikogi, only the fire extinguisher quietly stands by. From the center of the darkened barrel wood, a flexible rod is lowered, with a large flat basket hanging at the end. This basket sways gracefully in the wind from time to time. When I first came to this house, I had no idea why this basket was hung, but after learning that it was to store food out of the reach of cats, I began to deeply feel the malice of human nature.