Three to four

by Natsume Sōseki

It was when I was still not even twenty years old that I lost my parents. I remember my wife mentioning this to you, but my parents died of the same illness. Moreover, they passed away almost simultaneously, with their deaths occurring in close succession. To be honest, my father was suffering from a terrible intestinal disease. It was transmitted to my mother.

I was the only boy born to the two of them. Since the family had a certain amount of wealth, I grew up in a relatively privileged environment. Looking back now, I think that if my parents had been alive, at least if one of them had been alive, I would have continued to hold onto that sense of privilege even now.

Having lost my parents, I felt as if I had been left behind. Without knowledge, experience, or discernment, I was simply in a daze. When my father passed away, my mother was not by his side. When my mother passed away, I hadn’t even informed her that my father had died. I don’t know if my mother understood that, or if, as people around her said, she believed that my father was on the road to recovery. All I know is that my mother entrusted everything to my uncle. She pointed at me and said, “Please take care of this child.” Since I had already planned to go to Tokyo with my parents' permission, my mother was probably trying to mention that as well. When she added “to Tokyo,” my uncle immediately replied, “It’s okay, don’t worry.”

Was my mother perhaps the type of person who could endure a high fever? My uncle said, "She is a strong person," and praised my mother to me. However, now that I think about it, I cannot tell if this was truly my mother's last words. My mother, of course, knew the terrible name of my father's illness. And she understood that she was suffering from that illness as well. However, it remains uncertain whether she believed that she would lose her life to this disease. My mother's words during the high fever, no matter how reasonable they were, often did not remain in my memory.

However, I had already developed the habit of unraveling and thinking through things like this by that time. I believe I must tell you from the beginning that I think this description may not have much relevance to the immediate issues at hand. Please read with that in mind. I think this character trait has influenced my actions and thoughts ethically, leading me to later doubt the moral integrity of others. It is certain that this has given great power to my suffering, so please keep that in mind.

Since it becomes difficult to understand when the conversation strays from the main point, let us return to the original topic. In writing this long letter, I think I am perhaps a bit more composed compared to others in similar circumstances. When the world falls silent, the sound of the train also ceases. Outside the storm shutters, the pitiful cries of insects faintly remind me of the autumn dew. My wife, who knows nothing, sleeps innocently in the next room. As I take up my pen, each letter takes shape with a sound at the tip of the pen. I am rather calm as I face the paper. The pen may slip a little due to my inexperience, but my mind is not confused, and the pen does not run amok.

Anyway, being left all alone, I had no choice but to rely on this uncle as my mother instructed. My uncle took on everything and took care of me. He arranged for me to be able to go to Tokyo, which I had longed for.

I came to Tokyo and enrolled in high school. The students at that time were much rougher and coarser than they are now. Among my acquaintances, there were those who got into fights with craftsmen in the middle of the night and injured their opponent's head with a geta. This incident occurred after drinking, and while they were caught up in the moment throwing each other around, one of them lost his school cap to the other. However, the name of the person was written on a white cloth inside that cap. Because of this, the situation became troublesome, and that man was almost about to be inquired about by the police at the school. However, thanks to the efforts of his friends, it ultimately did not become public knowledge.

If I were to tell you, who have grown up in such a refined environment, about such violent behavior, you would surely think it ridiculous. I actually think it's ridiculous too. However, they had a kind of simplicity that today's students lack. At that time, the monthly amount I received from my uncle was far less than the educational funds you receive from your father now (of course, the cost of living was different too). Even so, I did not feel any lack at all. Rather, I might have been one of the more economically fortunate among my classmates. This is because, in addition to the monthly remittance, I could request book expenses (I had liked buying books since then) and temporary costs from my uncle and use them as I pleased.

I, who knew nothing, trusted my uncle wholeheartedly. I held feelings of gratitude and viewed him as a respected figure. My uncle was a businessman and had also become a prefectural assembly member. Perhaps because of that, I think he had connections with political parties. My uncle, who was my father's real younger brother, seemed to have grown in a completely different direction from my father in terms of personality.

My father was a sincere man who cherished and protected the inheritance passed down from our ancestors. His pleasures included the tea ceremony, admiring flowers, and reading poetry collections. He also had many interests in calligraphy, painting, and antiques. Our home was in the countryside, but my uncle lived in a city about two ri away, and occasionally, a tool dealer would come to show my father hanging scrolls and incense burners. My father was a gentleman of the countryside with relatively refined tastes, often described as a "man who possesses things." Therefore, there was a significant gap in personality between him and my free-spirited and lively uncle. Nevertheless, the two of them had a strangely good relationship.

My father often praised my uncle, saying he was a much harder worker and more reliable than himself. He mentioned that those who inherit wealth from their parents inevitably dull their unique talents, meaning they have no need to fight against the world. My mother also heard these words, and I did too. It seemed my father wanted me to understand this. "I hope you remember this well," he said, deliberately looking at my face at that moment. So, I still remember those words to this day.

In this way, how could I doubt my uncle, who was trusted and praised by my father? He was a source of pride for me, and after my father and mother passed away, he became someone I had no choice but to rely on. My uncle had become an indispensable person in my life.