Seven to nine

by Natsume Sōseki · 2026-05-13

I wondered. However, I was not going in and out of that house to study the teacher. It was just that my feet naturally headed that way. Looking back now, I think my attitude at that time was something to be cherished in my life. Thanks to that, I was able to build a warm, human relationship with the teacher. If my curiosity had even slightly directed itself towards the teacher's heart and acted in a research-oriented manner, the thread of sympathy connecting the two of us would have been mercilessly cut. The young me was completely unaware of my own attitude. Perhaps that is what makes it precious, but I shudder to think about what kind of consequences would have befallen our relationship if I had mistakenly shown my other side. The teacher always feared being studied with cold eyes.

I began to visit the teacher's house two or three times a month without fail. One day, noticing that my visits had become frequent, the teacher suddenly asked me.

“Why do you come to the house of someone like me so often?”

“There is no special reason. Am I being a nuisance?”

“I wouldn't say you're a nuisance.”

Indeed, there was no sign of annoyance on the teacher's face. I knew that the teacher's circle of friends was very small. I also understood that there were hardly two or three classmates in Tokyo. Occasionally, there were students from the same hometown in the same room, but they all seemed to have less familiarity with the teacher than I did.

“I am a lonely person,” the teacher said. “That’s why I am happy that you come. That’s why I asked why you come so often.”

“I wonder why that is.”

When I replied like this, the teacher didn’t answer anything. He just looked at my face and asked, “How old are you?”

This conversation was very unclear to me, but at that time I left without thinking deeply about it. Less than four days later, I visited the teacher again. When the teacher came out to the tatami room, he started to laugh.

"You've come again."

"Yes, I have come." I laughed as well.

If someone outside had said this to me, it would have surely annoyed me. However, when the teacher said it, it was completely the opposite; rather than being annoyed, it was quite amusing.

"I am a lonely person," the teacher repeated this phrase again that evening. "I am a lonely person, but perhaps you are also a lonely person. I can remain still because I am older and lonely, but you, being young, cannot do so. You probably want to move as much as you can. You want to immerse yourself in something..."

"I am not lonely at all."

"There is nothing lonelier than being young. Then why do you come to my house so often?"

Here again, the teacher's words were repeated.

"Even when you meet me, you probably still carry some loneliness somewhere. I do not have the power to remove that loneliness from you fundamentally. You will have to look at the outside world and eventually spread your hands to it. If that happens, you will no longer come to my house."

The teacher said this and smiled sadly.

Fortunately, the teacher's prophecy did not come true. At that time, I, who had no experience, could not even understand the obvious meaning behind this prophecy. Nevertheless, I continued to visit the teacher. Before I knew it, I started having meals at the teacher's table and naturally began to converse with his wife as well.

As an ordinary human, I was not cold towards women. However, based on my experiences as a young man, I had hardly ever had what could be called a relationship with a woman. Whether that was the cause or not is questionable, but my interest often leaned towards unknown women I encountered on the street. When I first met the teacher's wife at the entrance, I was struck by her beauty. Since then, I had never failed to hold the same impression every time I saw her. However, I felt there was nothing particularly noteworthy to say about her beyond that.

It might be more accurate to interpret this as her not having had the opportunity to show any characteristics rather than her lacking them. However, I always felt like I was interacting with the teacher's wife as if I were a part attached to him. The wife, too, seemed to treat me with kindness because I was a student coming to her husband. Therefore, if you removed the teacher, the two of them seemed like completely separate entities. The only impression I had of the wife when I first met her was that she was simply beautiful.

One time, I was made to drink at the teacher's house. At that time, the wife came out and poured drinks for us. The teacher looked more cheerful than usual. He said to the wife, "Why don't you have a drink too?" and offered her his empty cup. The wife hesitated, saying, "I..." but reluctantly accepted it, looking somewhat troubled. With her beautiful brows furrowed, she brought the cup, which she had filled about halfway for me, to her lips. A conversation began between the wife and the teacher as follows.

“It’s rare. You hardly ever tell me to drink.”

“I dislike you, you know. But it’s good to drink once in a while. It makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t help at all. It’s just painful. But you seem quite cheerful after drinking a little.”

“Sometimes it really does make me cheerful. However, it doesn’t always happen.”

“How about tonight?”

“Tonight feels nice, doesn’t it?”

“From now on, it would be good to drink a little bit every night.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Please drink. It would be better so that it’s not lonely.”

At the teacher's house, there were only the couple and a maid. It was usually quiet whenever I went there. I never heard any loud laughter. At times, it felt like it was just the teacher and me inside the house.

“It would be nice if there were children,” the wife said to me. I replied, “That’s true.” However, I felt no sympathy in my heart. At that time, having never had children, I thought of them merely as a nuisance.

“Shall I take one?” the teacher said.

“You can’t just take a child,” the wife looked at me again.

“You’ll never be able to have children,” the teacher continued.

The wife remained silent. When I asked instead, “Why is that?” the teacher laughed loudly, saying, “It’s divine punishment.”

As far as I knew, the teacher and his wife were a good couple. I didn’t understand their deep circumstances, having never spent time as a member of a family, but when the teacher was facing me in the tatami room, there were times he would call his wife instead of the maid without any particular reason. (The wife’s name was Shizuka.) The teacher would always turn towards the sliding door and call, “Hey, Shizuka.” That call resonated gently with me. The way the wife responded and came out was also very straightforward. Occasionally, when we were treated to a feast, and the wife appeared at the table, the nature of their relationship became even clearer.

The teacher sometimes went out to concerts and plays accompanied by his wife. According to my memory, there were a couple of times when the couple traveled within a week. I still have the postcard I received from Hakone, and when we went to Nikko, I also received a letter sealed with a maple leaf.

In my eyes at that time, the relationship between the teacher and his wife seemed like this. However, there was just one exception within that. One day, when I tried to ask for guidance at the teacher's entrance as usual, I heard someone talking from the tatami room. Upon listening closely, it was not an ordinary conversation; it seemed to be an argument. Since the tatami room was right next to the entrance, I could almost understand the tone of the argument from where I stood in front of the lattice. And I could tell that one of the voices belonged to the teacher, as it occasionally rose in intensity. The other person had a lower voice than the teacher, and although I couldn't clearly identify who it was, I felt it was likely his wife. It also sounded like she was crying. I hesitated at the entrance, unsure of what to do, but soon made up my mind and returned to my lodgings.

A strangely anxious feeling overtook me. I couldn't comprehend the content of the books I read. After about an hour, the teacher came to the window and called my name. Startled, I opened the window, and the teacher invited me to go for a walk from below. When I took out the watch I had wrapped between my obi earlier, it was already past eight o'clock. I had just returned and was still wearing my hakama, but I went outside as I was.

That evening, I drank beer with the teacher. The teacher was originally a person who was weak with alcohol. He was not the kind of person who could take the risk of drinking until he got drunk if he didn't feel tipsy after a certain amount.

"I can't do it today," the teacher said with a wry smile.

"Can't you have fun?" I asked sympathetically.

In my heart, the earlier incident was stuck. It was as if a fishbone had pierced my throat, and I was suffering. The turmoil of considering whether to confide or to reconsider and not say anything made me strangely restless.

"You seem a bit off tonight," the teacher said first. "Actually, I'm feeling a bit strange too. Do you understand?"

I couldn't provide any answer.

"Actually, I had a little argument with my wife earlier. That stirred up some pointless nerves," the teacher continued.

"Why...?"

The word "argument" did not come to my lips.

"My wife misunderstands me. Even if I say it's a misunderstanding, she won't accept it. I ended up getting angry."

"How could your wife misunderstand you so much?"

The teacher did not attempt to answer my question.

"If I were the kind of person my wife thinks I am, I wouldn't be suffering this much."

I couldn't even imagine how much the teacher was suffering.