Sixteen to Seventeen

by Natsume Sōseki

I was still attending school, but the lectures from the teachers standing at the podium felt as if they were coming from far away. The same went for studying; the letters in front of me would vanish like smoke without penetrating deep into my heart. Furthermore, I became taciturn. A few friends who noticed this misunderstood that I was lost in meditation and conveyed this to other friends. I did not try to correct that misunderstanding; rather, I was happy to have borrowed a convenient mask from others. Still, there were times when I was inexplicably restless and surprised them with sudden outbursts of anxiety.

My home was a place with little traffic of people. There weren't many relatives either. Occasionally, my daughter's school friends would come to play, but they would always leave after talking in such a small voice that it was hard to tell whether they were there or not. I didn't realize that this was out of consideration for me. The people who visited me were not particularly rowdy, but there wasn't a single man who would be considerate towards the family. In such a situation, I, the lodger, felt almost like the master, while the important young lady was, conversely, in the position of a guest.

However, this was just something I wrote down while reminiscing, and in reality, it doesn't matter at all. However, there was one thing that was not trivial. In the living room or perhaps in the young lady's room, I suddenly heard a man's voice. That voice was very low, unlike my guest, and I couldn't understand what was being said at all. So much so that a kind of excitement ran through my nerves. I was sitting there, and I began to feel strangely irritated. I wondered if that person was a relative or just an acquaintance, and then I pondered whether it was a young man or an older person. While sitting, there was no way to discern such things, but I couldn't get up and open the shoji to take a look. My nerves were not so much trembling as they were sending out large waves that tormented me. After the guest left, I was determined to ask for that person's name, but the young lady and the wife gave very simple responses. I showed a dissatisfied expression to both of them, but I did not have the courage to pursue it until I was satisfied. Of course, I probably had no right to do so. I was simultaneously presenting to them a sense of self-esteem stemming from an education that emphasized the importance of my dignity and a greedy expression that was actually betraying that self-esteem. They laughed. I could not find any room for interpretation at that moment as to whether it was out of mockery or if it came from goodwill, or if they intended to make it seem like goodwill, and I lost my composure. Even after the matter was settled, I repeatedly thought to myself that I had been ridiculed, or perhaps I had not been ridiculed.

I was a free spirit. No matter if I dropped out of school, where I went or how I lived, or whom I married, I was in a position where I didn't need to consult anyone. I often resolved to boldly talk to my wife about asking for her daughter's hand. However, each time I hesitated and couldn't bring myself to say it. It wasn't because I was afraid of being rejected. I didn't know how my fate would change if I were turned down, but on the other hand, it would give me the opportunity to stand in a different place and look out at a new world, so I could muster that much courage. However, I hated being manipulated by others. Being deceived by someone was more infuriating than anything else. Having been deceived by my uncle, I resolved that no matter what happened from now on, I would not be deceived by anyone.

"Seeing me buy books all the time, my wife suggested that I make a few kimonos. In reality, I only had cotton ones woven in the countryside. At that time, students did not wear kimonos made with silk. Among my friends was a merchant from Yokohama who lived extravagantly, but one day, a luxurious silk kimono was delivered to him. Everyone laughed when they saw it. The man was embarrassed and made various excuses, but he ended up throwing the precious kimono into the bottom of his trunk and didn't use it. Many people gathered around and deliberately made him wear it. Unfortunately, that kimono ended up with lice. My friend, thinking it was just as well, rolled up the infamous kimono and, while out for a walk, threw it into a large muddy ditch in Nezu. At that moment, I was standing on a bridge, laughing as I watched my friend's actions, but I felt absolutely no sense of waste in my heart.

From that time, I had become quite an adult. However, I still did not have the discernment to make my own formal kimono. I had a strange thought that as long as the time had not come for me to graduate and grow a beard, there was no need to worry about clothing. So I told my wife that while books were necessary, kimonos were not. My wife knew the amount of books I bought. When she asked if I read all the books I purchased, I was at a loss for an answer because among the things I bought were dictionaries, which I should naturally look through, yet there were some that I hadn't even cut the pages of. I realized that if I was going to buy things I didn't need, it was the same whether they were books or clothes. Moreover, under the pretext of needing various assistance, I wanted to buy belts and fabrics that would please the young lady. So I decided to leave everything to my wife.

My wife did not say she would go alone but ordered me to come along as well. She said the young lady had to go too. Having been raised in an atmosphere different from now, we, as students, did not have the habit of walking around with young women too much. At that time, I was even more of a slave to habit than I am now, so I hesitated a bit, but I decided to go out with determination.

The young lady was dressed up splendidly. Although her skin was white, she had applied a lot of white powder, making her stand out even more. People passing by on the street were staring at her. And those who saw her would inevitably return their gaze to my face, which made me feel quite strange.

The three of us went to Nihonbashi and got the things we wanted to buy. However, while shopping, we often changed our minds, and it took longer than we expected. The wife called my name and consulted me about what she thought. Occasionally, she would hold the fabric against the young lady's shoulders and chest and ask me to step back a couple of steps to take a look. Each time, I managed to express an opinion as if I were a proper person, saying things like, "That's not good," or "That looks great on you."

Time passed in this manner, and by the time we were heading back, it had become dinner time. The wife said she would treat me to something as a thank you and took me to a narrow alley where there was a theater called Kihara. The alley was not only narrow, but the restaurants serving meals were also cramped. Completely unfamiliar with the geography of this area, I was amazed by the wife's knowledge.

We returned home at night. The next day was Sunday, so I stayed cooped up in my room all day. When Monday came and I went to school, one of my classmates teased me early in the morning. He asked in a deliberately exaggerated manner, "When did you get married?" and then praised my wife as being very beautiful. It seems that the man had seen the three of us heading to Nihonbashi somewhere.