Twenty-eight to twenty-nine

by Natsume Sōseki

K was a man who didn't travel much. For me, Bōshū was a place I had never been to before. We landed at the first place the ship arrived, which I believe was called Yōta. I don't know how much it has changed now, but at that time it was a terrible fishing village. There was a fishy smell everywhere. When I entered the sea, I would immediately scrape my hands and feet as I was pushed down by the waves. Large stones, like fists, rolled around, always being tossed by the crashing waves.

I quickly became fed up. However, K neither said it was good nor bad. At least, his face remained calm. Even so, he seemed to get injured every time he went into the sea. I finally persuaded him, and we decided to go from there to Tōmura. From Tōmura, we moved to Nako. This coastline had been a gathering place for students since that time, so anywhere was just the right beach for us. K and I often sat on the rocks by the shore, gazing at the color of the distant sea and the nearby seabed. The water viewed from the rocks was particularly beautiful, and small fish in shades of red and indigo swam vividly in the transparent waves.

I sat there and often opened a book. K often remained silent and did nothing. I had no idea whether he was lost in thought, captivated by the scenery, or imagining something he liked. Occasionally, I would look up and ask K what he was doing. K would simply reply that he was doing nothing. I often thought how much more enjoyable it would be if it were a young lady sitting quietly beside me instead of K. That alone would have been fine, but sometimes I began to doubt whether K was sitting on the rock with similar hopes as mine. Then, I suddenly grew tired of calmly opening the book. I abruptly stood up and shouted loudly. I couldn't recite a coherent poem or song joyfully; I just yelled like a barbarian.

One time, I suddenly grabbed the back of his collar and asked, "What would you do if I pushed you into the sea like this?" K did not move. Still facing away, he replied, "Go ahead, it's just right." I immediately released my grip on his neck.

K's neurosis seemed to have improved quite a bit at this time. In contrast, I was gradually becoming more sensitive. I looked at K, who was calmer than I was, and felt both envious and resentful. This was because he showed no signs of engaging with me. It appeared to be a kind of confidence. However, even if I acknowledged that confidence in him, I could never be satisfied. My doubts deepened further, and I wanted to clarify their essence. Had he rediscovered the light of the path he should take regarding academics and business? If that were the case, there should be no conflict of interest between K and me. On the contrary, I would be glad if his presence was a source of strength for me. However, if his reassurance was directed towards my daughter, I would never be able to forgive him. Strangely, he seemed completely unaware of his affection for my daughter. Of course, I also did not behave in a way that would deliberately catch K's attention. K has always been insensitive in that regard. I had a sense of reassurance from the beginning that K would be fine, which is why I invited him to my home.

"I decided to boldly confess my feelings to K. However, this did not start at that moment. Even before going on the trip, I had those feelings, but I couldn't find the opportunity to confess or create that opportunity; my skills were not up to par. Looking back now, everyone around me at that time was peculiar. There was not a single person who would engage in deep conversations about women. Many of them probably had nothing to say, but even if they did, it seemed normal to remain silent. From your perspective, which breathes a relatively free atmosphere now, it must seem strange. Whether it is a moral custom or a kind of shyness, I leave that judgment to your understanding."

K and I were close enough to talk about anything. Sometimes topics about love or romance would come up, but they always ended up settling into abstract theories. Those topics rarely came up anyway. Most of the time, we talked about books, academics, future projects and ambitions, and personal development. No matter how close we were, on such stiff days, it was impossible to suddenly change the mood. The two of us just became close while remaining stiff. After I decided to confess about the young lady to K, I was often troubled by frustrating discomfort. I felt like breaking through one part of K's mind and blowing soft air into it from there.

What seemed utterly ridiculous to you was actually a significant difficulty for me at that time. I was just as cowardly while traveling as I was at home. I constantly observed K, ready to seize opportunities, yet I could do nothing about his lofty attitude. To me, it seemed as if his heart was heavily coated with black lacquer. The blood I tried to pour into it did not enter even a single drop, all of it being repelled.

At one point, K appeared so strong and noble that, conversely, I felt a sense of relief. Regretting my doubts in my heart, I simultaneously felt an urge to apologize to K. While apologizing, I felt so inferior that I suddenly became uncomfortable. However, after a while, my previous doubts returned to my heart and struck me hard. Since everything stemmed from doubt, I only faced disadvantages.

K's appearance seemed to be liked by women. His personality, too, did not concern itself with trivial matters like mine, and I thought he would be favored by the opposite sex. Though somewhat absent-minded, he also conveyed a solid masculinity, making him seem superior to me. Although our fields of study were different, I was well aware that I was certainly no match for K. -- When all his good qualities suddenly surfaced before me, I felt a bit of relief, but soon returned to my original anxiety.

K looked at my restless state and said, "If you don't like it, you can go back to Tokyo for a while," but the moment I heard those words, I suddenly didn't want to go back anymore. In fact, I might not have wanted to send K back to Tokyo. The two of us went around Bōshū's cape and emerged on the other side. We continued to walk through the hot sunlight, suffering, as if deceived by the distance of Kazusa's one ri. To be honest, I had no idea what that walk meant at all. Jokingly, I said this to K, and he replied, "We walk because we have legs." Then, as it got hotter, he suggested we go into the sea, and we didn't care where we waded into the tide. After that, we were once again beaten down by the strong sunlight, feeling lethargic and exhausted.