5-7

by 太宰治

“Stop it, stop it,” I said. At a time like this, I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I truly thought things had gotten completely out of hand.

“Are you troubled? How is it? Hey, are we going to be embarrassed again like this? Last night, the moon was so bright I couldn’t sleep, so I went out into the garden. Hibari’s bedside curtain was slightly open, so I peeked in. Hibari was bathed in moonlight, sleeping with a smile. That sleeping face was lovely, wasn’t it? Hey, Hibari, what are you going to do?”

Finally, I was pushed against the wall. I started to feel somewhat ridiculous.

“It’s impossible. No matter how I think about it, it’s impossible. I’m twenty years old. It’s a problem. Hey, someone’s coming this way.” I heard the patter of slippers from the direction of the washroom.

“No, that’s not it,” Maa-bou moved away from me, lifted her face, ran her hand through her hair, and laughed, “Ahaha.” Her face was flushed red, as if she had just come out of hot water.

“It’s already time for the lecture. Please excuse me. I hate being sloppy and late for things.”

I dashed out of the washroom. At that moment,

“You mustn’t get along with Take-san,” Maa-bou said in a thin voice. That voice resonated deeply within my heart.

Somehow, autumn isn’t good.

When I returned to the room, the lecture hadn’t started yet, and Kappore was sprawled on the bed, singing his usual Dodoitsu. It was a Dodoitsu I had heard several times before, about how even if the grass on the path is trodden by people, it revives with the morning dew, but only then, I didn’t feel the usual exasperation or annoyance, and I listened to it openly, which was strange. Perhaps I had become weak-spirited.

Eventually, the lecture began, and on the theme of cultural exchange between Japan and China, a young teacher named Okaki explained various historical examples, mainly focusing on medical exchange, in a concrete and easy-to-understand manner. I found myself nodding deeply, as if for the first time, to the idea that Japan and China have always been countries that learned from each other and progressed together, and there were many things that made me reflect. Nevertheless, I was still so preoccupied with my secret from today that I strongly wished to forget Ma-bo quickly and become a model塾生 (juku-sei, cram school student) again, free from any worries as before.

In the end, it was that Ma-bo who was at fault. I had thought she was a somewhat intelligent woman, but unexpectedly, she was foolish. Just now, she showed such a desperate gesture, but I know that it meant nothing. I don't have foolish vanity. Ma-bo is always thinking only about herself. She doesn't care about Tsukushi or me. She just wants to be intoxicated by her own beauty and pitifulness. She pretends to be innocent, but in reality, she is very vain and probably doesn't want to lose to anyone, and because she is terribly greedy, she probably wants everything that belongs to others. I can see through Ma-bo's schemes.

Maa-bou probably wanted to show me that letter from Tsukushi and boast a little. However, he must have keenly sensed that I was making fun of the letter and immediately changed his attitude, crying, pushing, and blurting out nonsense. Far from having pride like Sumire, that person's self-esteem is like that of a queen. It's impossible to be completely sympathetic. He said everyone was saying that Maa-bou and I were a good couple, but that's ridiculous. I've never been teased by anyone about Maa-bou. Maa-bou is the only one making a fuss. Maa-bou has an essential vulgarity in his upbringing, lacking in refinement. Truly, as Echigo said, his mother might have been a bad person. As I thought about it calmly, I started to get angry. I thought Maa-bou was not qualified to be an assistant at the dojo. The dojo is a sacred place. Everyone is diligently training morning and evening, earnestly praying for the conquest of tuberculosis. If Maa-bou ever showed such blatant words and actions again, I resolved to firmly appeal to the group leader, Take-san, and have Maa-bou expelled from the dojo.

Once I had solidified that resolve, I finally stopped feeling so fixated on the nightmare I had in the washroom earlier.

That was a bad dream. Bad dreams have no connection to life. Even if I dreamed I hit you, I wouldn't go apologize to you the next day. I don't have the heart of such a sentimental religious person or poet. A new man absolutely detests complicated things.

I don't intend to dwell on dreams, but the day after that nightmare in the washroom, that is, in the early hours of this morning, I had another dream. And this is a good dream. I don't want to forget a good dream. I want it to have some connection to my life. I definitely want to tell you about this. It's a dream about Take-san. Take-san is a good person, isn't she? I truly felt that this morning. You rarely find someone like her. I thought it was no wonder you're so enthusiastic about Take-san. You're a poet, after all, so you have good intuition. You have good taste. You're admirable. I was worried that your intense enthusiasm for Take-san might make you fall ill, so I had been holding back on reporting about her, but this morning, it became clear that such worries were completely unnecessary.

No matter how much one likes Take-san, she is not the kind of person who would make someone fall ill or degenerate. Please, like Take-san even more. I, too, intend to trust Take-san even more, not to be outdone by you. Nevertheless, Maa-bou is a foolish woman, isn't she? She's the complete opposite of Take-san. She was exactly as you said, a failed movie actress. Yesterday, after that, Maa-bou came to the "Sakura Room" for the 8 PM massage, even though it wasn't her turn, and as if she had completely forgotten about what happened at noon, she was making a fuss with hardtack and kappore. At that time, my massage was with Take-san, and Take-san, as usual, massaged silently with quick, skillful hands, occasionally smiling at Maa-bou's silly jokes. Then Maa-bou strode over to us and,

"Take-san, need a hand?" she asked in a playful tone, and Take-san gave a slight bow and replied calmly, "Thank you, I'll be done soon."

I like Take-san for that. When she awkwardly shows affection, she becomes so clumsy that I can't bear to watch. When Ma-bo turned right around and went towards the hardtack, I whispered to Take-san, "Ma-bo is such a pretentious person."

"At heart, she's a good girl," Take-san replied softly, her tone gentle.

At that moment, I secretly thought that Take-san might be of a higher caliber as a human being than Ma-bo. Take-san quickly finished the scrubbing, picked up the metal basin, and headed to the "Swan Room" next door. Afterwards, Ma-bo visited my bed, grinning, and said in a small voice, "You said something to Take-san. You definitely did. I know."

"I said she was a pretentious girl."

"Mean! Well, that's just how it is." Surprisingly, she didn't get angry. "Hey, do you have that?" she asked, making a square shape with both hands.

"The case?"

"Yeah. Where do you keep it?"

"In one of those drawers around here. You can have it back."

"Oh, no, I don't want it. Keep it forever, please. Even if it's a bother." After saying this with a strange sentimentality, she suddenly exclaimed loudly, "The moon really looks best from Hibari's place after all. Kappore-san, come here for a moment! Let's line up here and worship the moon. Let's compose a haiku, like 'Meigetsu ya' (Oh, bright moon). How about it?"

It's quite noisy.

That night, I went to sleep without any particular incident, but woke up suddenly near dawn. The room was dimly lit by the remaining light in the hallway. I looked at the clock by my bedside; it was a little before five. It seemed to be still pitch dark outside. Someone was looking in from outside the window. It's Ma-bou! I immediately thought. A white face, indeed smiling, vanished instantly. I got up and pulled back the curtains to look, but there was nothing. It was a strange feeling. Perhaps I was half-asleep. No matter how crazy Ma-bou was, she wouldn't be here at this hour. I chuckled, thinking I was quite a romantic after all, and slipped back into bed, but I couldn't shake the feeling. After a while, I faintly heard the sound of water, "shasha," from the distant washroom.

That's it! I thought. I don't know why I thought that. The person who smiled and disappeared earlier, that's it. Indeed, they are there now. Thinking that, I couldn't bear it, so I quietly got up and tiptoed out into the hallway.

In the washroom, a single blue bare light bulb was lit. Peeking in, I saw Take-san, wearing a kasuri kimono and a white apron, wiping the floorboards. With a hand towel tied like a headscarf, she resembled an Oshima diver. She turned and looked at me, but continued silently wiping the floorboards. Her face looked terribly thin. Everyone in the dojo was still sleeping soundly. Does Take-san always wake up this early to start cleaning? I couldn't speak properly and just watched Take-san cleaning, my heart pounding. To confess, at this moment, I was tormented by a terrifying desire for the first time in my life. In the pitch-darkness just before dawn, something extraordinary always stirs.