Ten to eleven

by Natsume Sōseki

I, being financially comfortable, began to consider moving out of the noisy boarding house and possibly acquiring a new house. However, that would require the hassle of furnishing it and the need for an elderly woman to take care of it. It would be a problem if that woman were not honest, and I would worry if she were not someone I could trust when I was away. For that reason, I felt that it was not something that could be easily executed.

One day, on a whim, I decided to look for a house and, while taking a walk, headed west down Hongōdai and straight towards Dentūin along the slope of Koishikawa. Since the train had started running, the surrounding scenery had completely changed, but back then, there was an earthen wall of the artillery factory on my left, and on the right side, there was a vacant lot overgrown with grass. I stood among the grass and casually gazed at the cliff over there. The view is still not bad, but back then, the atmosphere on the west side was quite different. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but deep green foliage, which brought peace to my heart.

Suddenly, I thought there might be a suitable house here, and I crossed the meadow and proceeded north along a narrow street. The houses in that area were still underdeveloped and quite shabby. I wandered around, going through alleys and turning corners. Finally, I asked the lady at the candy store if there were any small rental houses around here. She pondered for a moment but seemed unable to recall any, saying, "Rental houses are a bit..." I was about to lose hope and head back when she suggested, "How about a private boarding house?" I changed my mind a bit and thought that staying alone in a quiet private house might actually be better than the hassle of owning a home. After that, I sat down in the candy store and asked the lady for more details.

The boarding house was a home inhabited by the family of a soldier, or rather, by his bereaved family. According to the wife, the husband had died in the Sino-Japanese War. Until about a year ago, they lived near the military academy in Ichigaya, but due to the stable and the house being too large, they sold that place and moved here. However, since it was empty and lonely, they had asked for someone suitable to take care of the house. I confirmed with the wife that only a widow, her only daughter, and a maid lived there. I thought it was a quiet and very nice place, but I also had concerns that I might be rejected as a student of unknown background suddenly entering such a family. I hesitated, but since I wasn't dressed too shabby for a student and was wearing my university cap, I felt a bit more confident.

Finding a little confidence in that square cap, I visited the soldier's bereaved family without an introduction, just as the wife had instructed. When I met the widow and explained my intentions, she asked me various questions about my identity, school, and specialty. And perhaps judging that this was acceptable, she immediately welcomed me with the greeting that it would be fine for me to move in anytime. The widow was a strong and clear-minded person. I was impressed, wondering if all military wives were like this, but at the same time, I was surprised. I questioned why someone with such a temperament would feel lonely.

I moved into that house right away. I decided to rent the room where I had first spoken with the widow. It was the best room in the house. Since it was around the time when high-end boarding houses were starting to be built here and there in the Hongō area, I knew the best layout for living as a student. The room that I became the master of was much more splendid than those. At first, after moving in, it seemed almost too much for me as a student.

The room was eight tatami mats in size, with a shelf on the side of the floor, and on the opposite side, there was a closet. There were no windows, but instead, bright sunlight often streamed in from the south-facing edge.

On the day I moved in, I saw the flowers arranged on the floor of that room and the koto leaning against it. Neither was to my taste. I had grown up under my father, who enjoyed poetry, calligraphy, and sencha, so I had developed a preference for Tang-style aesthetics from a young age. As a result, I had unconsciously developed a habit of looking down on such gaudy decorations.

The tools my father collected during his lifetime were messed up for my uncle, but some were still left. When I left the country, I had entrusted them to an old friend from middle school. From those, I took out four or five interesting items and packed them at the bottom of my luggage. As soon as I moved in, I intended to take them out and display them on the floor. However, seeing the koto and the flowers in front of me, I suddenly lost my courage. It was only later that I learned this flower had been arranged as a treat for me, and I chuckled to myself. Moreover, the koto had been there all along, so it was probably just propped up there because there was no place to put it.

When I talk about this, naturally, the shadow of a young woman comes to mind. Even after moving in, I had that curiosity from the beginning. Whether this malice had harmed my nature or if it was because I was still not accustomed to people, when I first met that young lady, I stammered. In return, the young lady also had a red face.

I had imagined various things about this young lady based on the appearance and attitude of a widow until then. However, those imaginations were not very favorable for her. I thought, "Since she is a soldier's wife, she must have this kind of personality," or "Being the daughter of that wife, she must have been raised this way," and my assumptions gradually expanded. However, the moment I saw the young lady's face, all those assumptions were completely negated. A new scent of the opposite sex began to waft in my mind, something I had never imagined before.

From that moment on, I no longer disliked the flowers arranged in front of me on the floor. The koto leaning against the same floor also no longer felt like a nuisance.

The flowers are replaced with new ones when they begin to wither in a regular manner. The koto is occasionally taken to a room with a crooked key. I was resting my chin on my desk in my living room while listening to the sound of that koto. I couldn't tell whether the player was skilled or not. However, seeing that they didn't play very complicated pieces, I thought they probably weren't very good. I figured it was at most the level of a flower arrangement. I understand flowers well, but the young lady was certainly not skilled.

Nonetheless, various flowers unabashedly adorned my floor. However, the way they were arranged was always the same, and the vases never changed. On the other hand, the music was even stranger than the flowers. It only produced a few plucked strings, completely lacking any vocal sound. It wasn't that they didn't sing, but they only produced a small voice as if sharing a secret. Moreover, when scolded, they would stop making any sound at all.

I was happily gazing at this clumsy flower arrangement while listening to the unpleasant sound of the koto.