Thirteen to fifteen

by Natsume Sōseki

The letter I wrote was quite long. Both my mother and I were hoping that this time we would receive some kind of response from the teacher. Then, on the second day after sending the letter, another telegram addressed to me arrived. It only contained the words "You do not need to come." I showed that telegram to my mother.

"Perhaps, he intends to say something in the letter,"

my mother seemed to believe that the teacher would somehow do something for me. I also thought that maybe that could be the case, but considering the teacher's usual demeanor, it felt somewhat off. The idea that "the teacher would look for words" seemed impossible to me.

"In any case, my letter must not have reached him yet, so this telegram must have been sent before that,"

I said to my mother. She pondered for a moment and replied, "That's true." The fact that the teacher sent this telegram without reading my letter was clearly of no help in understanding him.

That day, the attending physician was scheduled to bring the director from town, so my mother and I did not have the opportunity to discuss this matter afterward. The two doctors performed an enema on the patient under supervision and then left.

Since my father was ordered to rest by the doctor, he had been having both of his needs taken care of while lying down. My fastidious father initially hated it terribly, but due to his physical condition, he reluctantly began to relieve himself on the floor. Perhaps because of the illness dulling his mind, as days passed, he became less conscious of his careless elimination. Sometimes he would soil the futon or sheets, causing those around him to frown, yet he remained unfazed. Moreover, the amount of urine had decreased significantly due to the nature of the illness. The doctor was troubled by this. His appetite gradually waned as well. Even when he occasionally craved something, it was merely a desire of the tongue, and only a tiny bit would pass down his throat. He lost the energy to pick up his favorite newspaper, and the reading glasses placed by his pillow remained in their black case for a long time. When Saku-san, who had been a good friend since childhood, came to visit, my father said, "Ah, it's you, Saku-san," looking at him with dull eyes.

“Saku-san, thank you for coming. You’re so healthy, I envy you. I’m done for.”

“That’s not true. You’ve got two children who will both graduate from university, and even if you get a little sick, that’s nothing to worry about. Just look at me. My wife has passed away, and I have no children. I’m just living like this. Being alive doesn’t bring any joy, does it?”

The enema was administered a couple of days after Saku-san's visit. My father was delighted, saying that he felt much better thanks to the doctor. It seemed he had somewhat come to terms with his lifespan, and his mood improved. My mother, who was nearby, perhaps caught up in this, or wanting to give the patient some spirit, spoke about the telegram from the doctor as if my position was in Tokyo as my father wished. I felt a bit uncomfortable, but I couldn’t interrupt my mother’s words and listened in silence. The patient had a joyful expression on his face.

“That’s wonderful,” said my sister’s husband as well.

“Don’t you understand what that means?” my brother asked.

I lost the courage to deny it now and gave an ambiguous answer, deliberately getting up from my seat.

Father's illness had progressed until just before the final blow, but he seemed to hesitate there for a while. The family went to bed every night thinking that the pronouncement of fate would come today or tomorrow.

Father did not feel any pain that would trouble those around him. In that respect, caring for him was rather easy. For caution, one person stayed awake in turns, but the others could return to their respective beds without issue. When I couldn't sleep for some reason, I mistakenly thought I faintly heard the sick person's groaning voice and once slipped out of bed in the middle of the night to check on Father by his pillow. That night, it was Mother's turn to stay awake, but she had curled up next to Father, using his arm as a pillow and had fallen asleep. Father was also quietly in a deep sleep. I tiptoed back to my own bed.

I slept in the mosquito net with my brother. Only my sister's husband, perhaps because he was being treated as a guest, was resting alone in a separate room.

"It's unfortunate for Seki-san too. Ah, it's been days and he can't go home,"

Seki was the person's surname.

"But, since he's not that busy, he's probably staying like this. It must be more troublesome for you, brother, since it's been so long,"

"There's no helping it. It's different from outside matters,"

I shared such bedtime stories while sleeping next to my brother. Both my brother and I had the thought that Father would not survive. There was also the thought that if he was not going to survive anyway, we were waiting for our parent's death as children. However, we hesitated to put that into words. We understood each other well about what we were thinking.

"It seems like Father still thinks he can get better," my brother said to me.

In fact, there were times when it seemed just as my brother said. When neighbors came to visit, my father always insisted on meeting them. When they met, he expressed regret for not being able to invite me to my graduation celebration. Instead, he would occasionally add something like, "Once my illness is cured..."

“It’s fine that you don’t have a graduation celebration. I was weak during mine,” my brother poked at my memory. I recalled the chaotic state I was in at that time, drunk on alcohol, and I smiled wryly. My father’s attitude of forcing drinks and food upon us also appeared bitterly in my eyes.

We were not very close siblings. We often fought as children, and I, being the younger one, was always the one who ended up crying. After entering school, due to our different specializations, our personality differences became more pronounced. During my time at university, especially after I started interacting with teachers, I would observe my brother from afar, always feeling that he was animalistic. Having not seen him for a long time, both physically and mentally, he was always a distant presence to me.

However, when we reunited after a long time, a gentle bond between brothers naturally surged up from somewhere. It was probably because of the situation that this emotion was born. With our common father, at the bedside where he was dying, we exchanged a handshake.

“What are you planning to do from now on?” my brother asked. I returned a completely different question.

“What’s going to happen to the family assets?”

“I don’t know. Dad hasn’t said anything yet. But even if we talk about assets, the amount is probably not much.”

My mother was also suffering from waiting for a reply from the teacher.

“Hasn’t the letter come yet?” she said, as if blaming me.

“Who exactly is this teacher you’re talking about?” my brother asked.

"I told you the other day," I replied. A feeling of discomfort arose towards my brother, who, after asking a question himself, quickly forgot the other explanations.

"I heard it, but..."

In the end, my brother said he couldn't understand. From my perspective, there was no need to force my brother to understand about the teacher. However, I was angry. Again, I thought that this was typical of my brother.

The existence of the teacher I respect was considered by my brother to be someone of notable status. He thought that at least a university professor's position was necessary. How much value could there be in someone without a name, someone who has done nothing? My brother's thinking was exactly the same as my father's in this regard. However, while my father jumped to the conclusion that he was just playing around because he couldn't do anything, my brother thought that someone who had the ability to do something but was just loafing around was a boring person.

"Egoists are no good. To think of living without doing anything is the mindset of a lazy person. People must utilize their talents as much as possible; otherwise, it's a lie."

I wanted to ask my brother if he truly understood the meaning of the word "egoist" that he was using.

"Even so, if that person can establish a position thanks to someone else, well, that's fine. It seems like Dad is happy about it too."

My brother said this later. Since I hadn’t received a clear letter from the teacher, I couldn't believe it and didn’t have the courage to voice it. Now that my mother had already spread that news to everyone, I couldn't suddenly deny it. Without needing my mother's prompting, I was waiting for the teacher's letter. I hoped that the letter would contain something about food and clothing, as everyone was thinking. While praying to ease my dying father's worries even a little, I had to be troubled by the fact that, in front of my brother, who said that one must work to be human, and also in front of my sister's husband, uncle, and aunt, I was completely indifferent.

When my father vomited some strange yellow substance, I remembered the dangers that my teacher and wife had once told me about. Looking at my mother's face, who said, "He has been sleeping like that for so long, so his stomach must be bad," I felt tears welling up in front of that person who knew nothing.

When my brother and I reunited in the living room, he said, "Did you hear?" It meant whether I had heard what the doctor said to him as he was leaving. I understood the meaning immediately.

My brother looked at me and asked, "Don't you have any intention of coming back here and managing the household?" I didn't answer anything.

My brother continued, "Your mother can't do anything by herself." He looked at me as if he wouldn't mind decaying while smelling the earth.

"If all you're going to do is read books, you can do that just fine in the countryside, and you won't have to work, so it would be just right."

"It's only natural for you to come back," I said.

"Do you think I can do something like that?" my brother dismissed. His heart was overflowing with the desire to work in the world from now on.

"If you don't want to, I can ask Uncle to take care of her, but still, your mother will have to be taken in somewhere."

"Whether or not mother will move from here is already a big question."

The siblings had been discussing their father's death in this way even before he passed away.