Fifty-two to fifty-four

by Natsume Sōseki

The feelings I have for my deceased friend have remained in my heart forever. To be honest, I feared this from the very beginning. I might even say that I welcomed the marriage, which had been a long-held dream, amidst anxiety. However, for someone like me who cannot see their own future, I thought that perhaps this could change my mindset and mark the beginning of a new life.

However, as I faced my wife morning and night as her husband, my faint hopes crumbled under the harsh reality. When I confronted my wife, the presence of K suddenly threatened me. In other words, my wife stood in the middle, binding K and me together and not letting go. I felt no lack in my wife, yet I wanted to distance her on this one point. Then, this immediately reflected in a woman's heart. It reflected, but I couldn't understand the reason. Sometimes, my wife would question me, asking, "Why are you thinking so deeply?" or "Is there something you don't like?" I could laugh it off, but at times, my wife's anger would escalate. Ultimately, I would hear resentful remarks like, "You must hate me," or "There must be something you are hiding from me." Each time, I suffered.

I thought many times about confessing my true feelings to my wife, being more decisive. However, when the moment actually came, some other force unexpectedly held me back. I don't think I need to explain this to you, who understands me, but since it's something I should talk about, I will convey it. At that time, I had no desire to embellish myself in front of my wife at all. If I had lined up words of confession before her with the same pure heart I had for my late friend, she would have surely shed tears of joy and forgiven my sins. The reason I deliberately did not do that was that I couldn't bear to leave a dark point in my wife's memory. To sprinkle a drop of dirt on something pure white was an immense pain for me.

Even after a year, my heart, unable to forget K, was always anxious. In order to remove this anxiety, I desperately tried to immerse myself in books. I started studying with tremendous momentum and awaited the day to announce my achievements to the world. However, forcing myself to create a purpose and waiting for the day of its achievement felt false and unpleasant. I could no longer bury my heart in books, and I began to fold my arms and gaze at the world once again.

It seemed that my wife had observed that I was becoming lax in my heart because I was not troubled by anything. Since my wife's family had enough wealth for the two of them to live on, and I was in a situation where I did not need to seek employment, it was only natural for her to think that way. I myself felt that I was being somewhat pampered. However, the main reason I had become inactive was not actually because of that. When I was deceived by my uncle, I realized painfully that I had nothing else to rely on, and while I looked negatively at others, I still had a certain confidence in myself. There was a belief somewhere within me that said, "No matter what the world thinks, I am a respectable person." When that belief beautifully crumbled for K and I realized that I was the same as that uncle, I suddenly felt dizzy. Having lost affection for others, I also lost affection for myself and became unable to move.

There was a time when I, unable to bury myself in books, tried to forget myself by drowning in alcohol. I wouldn't say I liked alcohol, but since I could drink, I tried to numb my heart by relying solely on quantity. This shallow method made me even more cynical after a while. In the midst of drunkenness, I became aware of my own position. I was a fool who was deliberately pretending and deceiving myself. Then, along with my gestures, both my eyes and heart would awaken. Sometimes, no matter how much I drank, I couldn't even enter this masquerade state and would sink aimlessly. Moreover, after the pleasure gained through technique, a gloomy backlash always awaited me. I had to constantly show that side to my beloved wife and her mother. Furthermore, they interpreted me from a natural standpoint.

The mother of my wife sometimes seemed to say difficult things to her. My wife hid this from me, but it seems she couldn't help but blame me. Although when I say blame, it was never with strong words. There were hardly any times when I got furious over something my wife said. She asked me to tell her freely what she didn't like. And she advised me to quit drinking for my future. One time, she cried and said, "You've changed recently." As if that wasn't enough, she said, "If K-san were alive, you wouldn't have become like this." I once answered that it might be true, but the meaning of my answer and the meaning understood by my wife were completely different, which made me feel sadness inside. Still, I wasn't inclined to explain anything to my wife.

Sometimes, I apologized to my wife. It was the morning after I came home late, heavily drunk. My wife either laughed, stayed silent, or occasionally shed tears. Either way, I felt extremely uncomfortable. Therefore, apologizing to my wife became the same as apologizing to myself. In the end, I quit drinking. It would be more accurate to say that I quit not because of my wife's advice, but because I became fed up with myself.

Although I quit drinking, I have no motivation to do anything. Since there's nothing I can do, I pick up a book, but as soon as I finish reading it, I throw it aside. My wife has asked me several times what I'm studying for, but I could only respond with a bitter smile. However, deep down, the thought that even the one person I love most in the world does not understand me brought up a wave of sadness. Even though there are ways to make her understand, I felt increasingly sad about my inability to summon the courage to do so. I was lonely. There were often times when I felt as if I were cut off from the world, living alone.

At the same time, I thought repeatedly about the cause of K's death. Perhaps it was because my mind was dominated by the word "love" at that time, but my observations were rather simple and linear. I quickly concluded that K died from heartbreak. However, as I gradually calmed down and looked at the same phenomenon, I realized that it was not something that could be easily resolved. The clash between reality and ideals—still, that was not enough. I began to suspect that K might have suddenly made a decision, unable to bear the loneliness just like I was. The thought of this brought a wave of fear. I sometimes felt a premonition that I too was walking the same path that K had taken.

Before long, my mother-in-law fell ill. When she was examined by a doctor, the diagnosis was that there was no hope for recovery. I did my utmost to care for her. This was for the sake of the patient herself and for my beloved wife, but on a larger scale, it was for humanity. Until then, I had been desperate to do something, yet I had been unable to do anything. It was at this moment that I first felt a sense of awareness that I had reached out my hand and done at least a little good. I was under the influence of a kind of mood that could be called atonement.

My mother passed away. My wife and I were left alone together. My wife said to me that from now on, there is only one person she can rely on. Unable to even rely on myself, I looked at my wife's face and tears flowed involuntarily. And I thought of her as an unhappy woman. When I said out loud that she was an unhappy woman, my wife asked why I thought so. She could not understand my feelings. I could not explain it either. My wife cried. She resented me for saying such things because I always observed her with twisted thoughts.

After my mother passed away, I tried to be as kind to my wife as possible. However, it was not just because I loved her. There seemed to be a broader background to my kindness that transcended the individual. Just as I cared for my wife's mother, my heart was moved. My wife appeared to be satisfied. However, within that satisfaction, there seemed to be a vague and thin point arising from her inability to understand me. Even if my wife could understand me, I felt that this sense of dissatisfaction would neither increase nor decrease. It seems that women have a stronger nature than men to prefer kindness directed solely at themselves, even if it deviates somewhat from larger humanitarian affection.

At one point, my wife said that the hearts of men and women might never be able to unite. I vaguely replied that I might be able to when I was younger. My wife, reflecting on her past, eventually let out a faint sigh.

At that time, a terrible shadow began to flicker in my chest from time to time. At first, it seemed to come from outside by chance. I was surprised and shuddered. However, after a while, my heart began to respond to that terrible flicker. Eventually, it felt as if it was born not from outside, but from the depths of my own chest. Every time I felt that way, I doubted whether something was wrong with my head. However, I had no intention of having a doctor or anyone else examine me.

I simply felt deeply the concept of human sin. That feeling led me to visit K's grave every month. That feeling made me care for my wife's mother. And that feeling commanded me to treat my wife gently. Because of that feeling, I even thought that I wanted to be whipped by a stranger on the roadside. After going through such thoughts, I felt that rather than being whipped by others, I should whip myself. The thought arose that instead of whipping myself, I should kill myself. Since there was no other choice, I resolved to live as if I were dead.

How many years have passed since I made that decision? My wife and I have been living happily together as before. We were never unhappy; rather, we were happy. However, there was one point that I carried, which seemed to always appear as darkness to my wife. Thinking of that, I feel very sorry for her.