8 to 2

by 太宰治

The washroom was like a forbidden place for me.

"Take-san, just now," my voice caught in my throat. I said, out of breath, "Did you go out to the garden?"

"No," Take-san turned to look at me, smiled slightly, and said, "Bonbon, what are you saying in your sleep? Oh, how indecent. You're barefoot."

When I noticed her words, I was indeed barefoot. I had been so excited and rushed in that I completely forgot to put on my zori sandals.

"You're such a worrier. Wipe your feet."

Take-san stood up, rinsed a rag thoroughly in the sink, and then squatted beside me with the rag. She rubbed the soles of my right and left feet vigorously, as if scrubbing them clean. I felt as if not only my feet but also the deepest corners of my heart had been cleansed. That strange and terrifying desire had also vanished. As she wiped my feet, I placed my hand on Take-san's shoulder and said,

"Take-san, please let me continue to rely on you," I said, deliberately using the Kansai dialect.

"You must be lonely," Take-san said in a low voice, as if to herself, without smiling at all. "Here, I'll lend you these, so hurry to the toilet and go to sleep."

Take-san took off her own slippers and offered them to me.

"Thank you," I said, pretending to be fine as I put on the slippers, "Was I dreaming?"

"Didn't you wake up to go to the toilet?" Take-san said in a mature tone, as she continued to wipe the floor.

"That's true, but..."

I couldn't possibly say something so foolish as seeing a woman's face outside the window. Perhaps I saw such an illusion because my own heart was impure. The sight of myself, excited by indecent fantasies and rushing out into the hallway barefoot, seemed pathetic and shameful. And yet, there were people who woke up at such dark hours every day and silently cleaned.

I leaned against the wall and watched Take-san work for a while. I was reminded again of the solemnity of life. I thought that health must be like this. Thanks to Take-san, I felt as if the pure part deep within my heart had become even more refreshing and transparent.

You know, an honest person is a good thing. A simple person is a precious thing. I had somewhat scorned Take-san's good nature until now, but that was a mistake. You truly have good judgment. Ma-bo is no match for her. Take-san's affection does not corrupt people. This is truly remarkable. I intend to become a person with such righteous affection myself. I will fly higher day by day. The surrounding air is gradually becoming colder and clearer.

A boy's life is always a close call. A new man always plays in dangerous places, nimbly slips through, and flies away.

Thinking about it this way, autumn doesn't seem so bad after all. It's a little chilly, which feels nice.

Ma-bo's dream was a bad dream, and I want to forget it quickly, but Take-san's dream, if it were a dream, I wish I would never wake from it.

I'm not bragging, you know.

---

October 7th

Dear Sir/Madam, It was a terrible storm, wasn't it? Was it a typhoon? Even the American occupation forces must be surprised by this. Four or five hundred people are said to have come to E City, but they haven't appeared in this area yet. The manager also gave a lecture, telling us not to be unnecessarily afraid and become a laughingstock, and the people in this dojo are relatively calm. Only the assistant, Kintoto-san, is a bit downcast and is being teased by everyone. Kintoto-san apparently went to E City a few days ago on an errand in the rain, and after returning to the dojo and sleeping with everyone that night, he was sobbing. When everyone asked what was wrong, and Kintoto-san recounted while hiccuping, it was roughly as follows:

Kintoto had finished his errands in town and was waiting for the bus home at the waiting station. In the pouring rain, an American military truck drove up and apparently broke down, stopping in front of the bus waiting station. Two young American soldiers jumped out of the driver's seat and began repairs, getting drenched in the rain. The repairs took a long time, and they silently fiddled with the machine, looking like drowned rats. Eventually, Kintoto's bus arrived, but Kintoto ran out of the waiting station, got on the bus, and at that moment, as if in a trance, he gave the American boys one by one the pears from his furoshiki bundle. As he heard "Thank you" behind him, he rushed to the back of the bus, and it departed immediately. That was all that happened, but when he returned to the dojo, as he gradually calmed down, he became inexplicably terrified and terribly worried, and finally, that night, he covered his head with his futon and started sobbing alone. This news spread throughout the dojo early the next morning, and some said it was understandable, others said it was outrageous, and still others said they didn't understand it at all. In any case, everyone burst into laughter. Kintoto, even when teased, didn't crack a smile, shook his head, and said his heart was still pounding.

Also, another person, Hard Bread, who shared the same room, had been looking very down recently. He seemed to be troubled by something, but in fact, he also had a peculiar kind of hardship.

This person, Hardtack, whether secretive or just being coy, completely ignored us, always keeping his distance, making him a very awkward presence. However, the night before last, during that storm, there was a power outage a little after seven o'clock. Because of that, there was no evening friction, and the loudspeaker was also silent due to the power outage, so no evening news was heard. Therefore, all the students ended up going to bed early. But the sound of the wind was so terrible that no one could sleep. Kappore sang softly, and Echigo-jishi found a candle from his bed drawer, lit it, placed it by his pillow, and sat cross-legged on his bed, diligently repairing his slippers.

"It's a terrible wind, isn't it?"

Hardtack came over to us, smiling strangely. It was truly unusual for Hardtack to come visit someone else's bed.

On a stormy night, just as moths are drawn to a flame, perhaps humans are also drawn to the dim light of a candle. Thinking such thoughts, I sat up and greeted him.

"Yes, even the occupation forces must be surprised by this storm," I said.

He smiled strangely and continued, "No, actually," in a slightly playful tone, "the problem is those occupation forces. Anyway, please read this." He said, handing me a sheet of notepaper.

The notepaper was densely covered with English writing.

"I can't read English," I said, feeling embarrassed.

"I can read it. Middle school students like you remember English the best. We've already forgotten it." He sat down on the edge of my bed, grinning. Then, suddenly lowering his voice, he said, "Actually, this is an English sentence I wrote. I'm sure there are grammatical errors, so I'd like you to correct them for me. The people at the dojo seem to mistake me for an English master, and if American soldiers come, they might pull me out as an interpreter. Thinking about that, I can't help but worry," he said, laughing as if to hide his embarrassment.

"But aren't you really good at English?" I said, vaguely staring at the stationery.

"No joke. There's no way I can interpret. I think I got carried away and showed off my English too much to the assistants, and if I'm pulled out as an interpreter and they see me stammering, I can't imagine how much those assistants would despise me. Lately, I've been so worried about that, I can barely sleep at night. Please understand," he said, chuckling again.

I started reading the English text on the stationery. There were a few words I didn't know, but it was roughly about the following:

"Please do not be angry, sir. Forgive this rudeness. I am a pitiful man, for in English, I am like a baby in hearing, speaking, and everything else. Those actions are far beyond my ability. Furthermore, I suffer from a lung disease. Sir, be careful! Oh, it is dangerous! There is a very high possibility that I could infect you. Nevertheless, I deeply believe in you. In the name of God, I acknowledge that you are a very noble gentleman. I have no doubt that you will surely have sympathy for this pitiful man. Although I am almost crippled in English conversation, I can barely read and write. If you have enough kindness and patience, I would like you to write your errands for today on this paper. However, please show an hour's patience. During that time, I will shut myself in my room, study your writing, and then write a reply to the best of my ability.

I sincerely pray for your health. Please never be angry at my poor and ugly writing."