Ten to twelve

by Natsume Sōseki

The illness of my father had continued in the same state for over a week. During that time, I wrote a long letter to my brother in Kyushu. I had my sister send a letter from our mother. In my heart, I thought this might be the last news regarding my father's health. Therefore, I added a note saying that I would send a telegram in case of emergency and that I wanted them to come immediately.

My brother had a busy job, and my sister was pregnant. So, I couldn't call them before my father's danger became imminent. However, it was also painful to be told that they couldn't make it despite having arranged their schedules. I felt an unspoken responsibility about the timing of sending the telegram.

“I cannot say for sure. However, please understand that danger can come at any time.”

The doctor I welcomed from the town with the station said this to me. I consulted with my mother and decided to request a nurse from the town hospital through that doctor's introduction. My father looked surprised when he saw a woman in white clothes come to greet him at his bedside.

My father was aware that he was suffering from a terminal illness. However, he did not realize the very death that was approaching him.

“When I get better, let's go to Tokyo again. You never know when a person will die. You should do what you want while you are alive.”

My mother reluctantly responded, “Please take me with you when that time comes.”

At times, he looked very lonely.

“When I die, please take good care of my mother.”

I had a special memory associated with the words "If I die." When I was leaving Tokyo, the teacher repeatedly said it to his wife on the evening of my graduation day. I remembered the smiling face of the teacher and the expression of his wife, who did not seem to feel joy. At that time, "If I die" was merely a hypothetical situation. Now, what I was hearing was a reality that could happen at any moment. I could not learn about the wife's attitude towards the teacher. However, I had to comfort my father even if it was just with words.

"Please don't say such weak things. If you get better, you should be able to come to Tokyo for a visit, right? With your mother. When you come next time, you will surely be surprised. The town has changed. There are many new train tracks, and as trains start running, the townscape will change too, and there will be city reforms, so Tokyo is really a busy place right now."

I reluctantly ended up saying things that didn't even need to be said. My father listened to it with a satisfied expression.

Due to the presence of a patient, the comings and goings at home naturally increased. Relatives from the neighborhood visited at a rate of one every two days. Among them were some who lived relatively far away and were usually distant. "I thought it might be bad, but with this situation, it seems fine. You can talk freely, and you don't look thin at all," some would say before leaving. The household, which had been silent when I first returned, began to gradually become livelier like this.

On the other hand, my father's illness was only worsening. I consulted with my mother and uncle, and finally sent a telegram to my brother and sister. I received a reply from my brother saying he would come right away. There was also news from my sister's husband that he was departing. Since my sister had a miscarriage during her previous pregnancy, her husband had said in advance that he intended to take good care of her this time and not let her exert herself, and he might come in place of my sister.

Even during this restless time, I still had the composure to sit quietly. Sometimes I even managed to open a book and read for ten pages straight. My suitcase, which had been firmly closed, had somehow come undone. As I took out what I needed, I reflected on the plans I had made for this summer when I left Tokyo. What I had accomplished had not even reached a third of this plan. I had gone through such unpleasantness many times before, but there had been few summers where things did not go as I had hoped. While I thought this was the way of the world, I felt as if I was being crushed by an unpleasant feeling.

In this discomfort, I thought about my father's illness and imagined what would happen after he passed away. At the same time, I also thought of my teacher. I gazed at the images of two people at the ends of this unpleasant feeling, whose positions, education, and personalities were completely different.

As I left my father's bedside and sat alone with my arms crossed among the disordered books, my mother appeared.

“You should take a little nap. You must be very tired,”

My mother did not understand my feelings. I was not a child who could expect that from her. I simply expressed my thanks. My mother was still standing at the entrance of the room.

“How is father?” I asked,

“He’s sleeping well right now,” my mother replied.

My mother suddenly came in and sat beside me.

“Hasn’t the teacher said anything yet?” she asked.

My mother believed my words at that time. I had assured her that there would surely be a response from the teacher. However, I had no expectation that the kind of response my father and mother were hoping for would come. I intended to deceive my mother, but I ended up in the same situation.

“Why not try sending another letter?” my mother said.

No matter how many useless letters I wrote, if it would comfort my mother, I was not the kind of person to spare the effort. However, pressing the teacher with such matters was painful for me. I feared being looked down upon by the teacher far more than being scolded by my father or upsetting my mother. The fact that I had not received a response to that request until now might also be due to such reasons, I speculated.

“Writing a letter is easy, but such matters cannot be resolved through the mail. You must go to Tokyo yourself and ask directly.”

“But with your father in that condition, how can you know when you can go to Tokyo?”

“That’s why I won’t go. As long as it’s uncertain whether he will get better or not, I intend to stay here like this.”

“That’s obvious. Who can just leave a seriously ill patient behind and go to Tokyo?”

At first, I felt pity for my mother, who knew nothing. However, I could not understand why she brought up such a problem in this chaotic situation. Just as I seemed to have the leisure to sit quietly or read a book without worrying about my father’s illness, I wondered if my mother was also forgetting the patient in front of her and thinking about outside matters, or if she was harboring a sense of emptiness in her heart. At that moment, my mother opened her mouth and said, “Actually…”

“Actually, I think your father would feel relieved if you could speak when he is still alive. But at this rate, it might be too late, yet still, since you can speak and think clearly like that, you should do your filial duty and make your father happy.”

I felt sad that I was in a situation where I could not fulfill my filial duty. In the end, I did not send even a single line of a letter to the teacher.

When my brother returned home, my father was reading the newspaper while lying down. He had a habit of reading the newspaper without fail, but after going to bed, he wanted to read it even more out of boredom. Neither my mother nor I particularly objected, allowing the sick person to do as he pleased.

“If you’re that energetic, that’s good. I thought you were really bad off, but you seem fine.”

My brother said this while talking to my father. That lively tone sounded discordant to me. However, when he turned away from my father to face me, he seemed rather subdued.

“Shouldn’t we stop him from reading the newspaper?”

“I think so too, but he won’t agree unless he reads it, so there’s no helping it.”

My brother listened silently to my explanation. Eventually, he said, “I wonder if he really understands.” It seemed my brother had observed that my father's comprehension was much duller than usual due to his illness.

“That’s certainly true. Just a little while ago, I sat by his pillow for about twenty minutes and talked about various things, but there was nothing off about his condition. At this rate, he might still hold on.”

The opinion of my sister's husband, who arrived with my brother, was much more optimistic than ours. My father was asking him various questions about my sister. “Given his condition, it’s better not to ride the train unnecessarily and get jostled around. If he forces himself to come visit, it’ll only make us worry,” he said. “What, once he gets better, I’ll come out for the first time in a while to see the baby’s face, so it won’t be a problem,” he also said.

When General Nogi passed away, my father was the first to learn about it from the newspaper.

“This is terrible, this is terrible,” he said.

We, who knew nothing, were startled by this sudden remark.

“At that moment, I thought he had really lost his mind, and it gave me a chill,” my brother later told me. “I was actually surprised too,” my sister's husband seemed to agree.

At that time, the newspapers were filled with articles that seemed to be waiting for country folks every day. I sat by my father's bedside and read them carefully. When I didn't have time to read, I quietly took them to my room and went through every single one. My eyes could not forget the figure of General Nogi in military uniform and that of his wife, dressed like a court lady, for a long time.

A mournful wind swept through every corner of the countryside, shaking the sleepy trees and grass, when suddenly, I received a telegram from my teacher. In a place where dogs bark at the sight of people in Western clothes, even a single telegram was a major event. My mother, upon receiving it, called me to a secluded spot with a look of surprise.

“What is it?” she said, waiting beside me as I opened the seal.

The telegram simply stated that they wanted to meet me and asked if I could come. I tilted my head in confusion.

“It must be about the matter I asked you to take care of,” my mother speculated.

I thought that might be the case too. However, I also considered that it was a bit strange for that. In any case, I, who had called my brother and sister's husbands, could not go to Tokyo leaving my father's illness behind. I decided to consult with my mother and send a reply saying I could not go. I added, in as concise words as possible, that my father's condition was becoming critical, but I still felt uneasy, so I wrote a detailed letter about the situation and sent it by mail that same day. My mother, who had fully trusted only the matter I had asked her about, said with a disappointed look, “There’s nothing we can do when the timing is truly unfortunate.”