Pathway to Japanese Literature

I went to Ibarumi Field to collect a suitable specimen of volcanic bomb and to verify the rumor that wild coastal plants grew there.
As you know, coastal plants grow along the shore.
That they should grow in a field separated from the sea by a mountain range some thirty ri away—everyone said it was strange.
A certain person argued in a newspaper, presenting three reasons, that Ibarumi Field had until very recently been part of the sea.
They claimed first it was due to the name Ibarumi itself, second because coastal plants grew there, and third that if you tasted the soil there, it did seem slightly salty—but I thought none of these constituted proper evidence.

However, I ultimately did not find any coastal plants.
Of course, just because I did not find them does not mean coastal plants are not there.
If I had found even one on the contrary, that would have served as evidence of their existence.
Therefore I still do not know.

As for the volcanic bomb, though its edge was slightly crushed, I managed to find one after half a day's search.

I did find one but ended up being made to donate it.
You ask by whom I was made to donate it?
It was the Principal of course.
Which school's principal?
Well, to be perfectly honest—it was Ibarumi Fox Elementary School.
Do not be alarmed.
The truth is I had in fact fully toured Ibarumi Fox Elementary School that very afternoon.
There's no need to make such faces.
It was not that I was deceived by foxes.
If one were deceived by foxes, they would not appear as foxes but rather as women or priests.
However in my case I properly saw foxes as foxes.
If seeing foxes as foxes constitutes being deceived then seeing humans as humans must equally mean being deceived by humans.

The only slightly odd thing was that while elementary schools make sense for humans, one might question their purpose for foxes—but even that posed no real issue. Just keep listening a bit longer to what follows. You'll surely come to understand that Fox Elementary School exists. Let me emphasize this thoroughly: even if I say Fox Elementary School exists within my mind alone, that doesn't make it a lie. As proof of its truthfulness, I myself am declaring it plainly. If all of you hearing this accept it exactly as stated, then Fox Elementary School will take root within you too. I often wandered freely through such open fields by myself. Yet such excursions left me thoroughly exhausted afterward. Most notably, my arithmetic skills grew quite deficient. Therefore, while there's absolutely no harm in you all hearing about these journeys, you mustn't carelessly embark on them too often.

Well, let's continue the story.
Truth be told, it would have been far better to visit Fox Elementary School from the start than to search for coastal plants in that field dense with thistles and pampas grass.
It would have been more informative and certainly more interesting had I observed from the first morning period.
What I observed was, as I mentioned earlier, the afternoon classes.
It was the fifth period, between one and two o'clock.
The fox elementary students do have their dependable qualities, you know.
Even during fifth period, not a single one showed signs of boredom.
Shall I describe my observations in detail?
It will surely prove most instructive for you as well.

Not finding any coastal plants, I collected a small volcanic bomb and sat down on the grass.
The sky was filled with sparkling white scale clouds.
The thorny plants bore clusters of blue berries, and the pampas grass was just beginning to sprout their plumes.
The sun was positioned high in the sky, so I realized it must already be noon.
Moreover, I was in fact quite hungry.
So I took out the bag of bread I had brought from my backpack and was about to eat it right away when I suddenly wanted water.
Though there hadn't been a single stream or spring anywhere I'd walked so far, thinking I might perhaps come across at least some small rivulet if I went a bit further, I put the volcanic bomb into my backpack and—troublesome as it was—left the clasp unfastened, shouldered it with the strap dangling loose, kept only the bread bag in hand, and ambled off in that direction once more.

Time and again passing through places where thorny brambles formed hedges, making my way through stretches where pampas grass appeared like planted shrubbery, I kept walking—yet the field remained just as before, with no small streams to be found.
It couldn’t be helped. Just as I stopped to eat my bread here, I heard the distant ringing of a bell.
It sounded like the bell that any school would ring, reverberating all the way up to those white scale clouds in the sky.
There couldn’t possibly be a school in this field—I even considered that my head had hummed from suddenly stopping—but I simply couldn’t bring myself to doubt the sound I’d just heard from the bottom of my heart.
Far from it—this time, I heard the clamoring voices of children.
They would grow clear when carried by a gust of wind, then abruptly grow distant again.
Yet unmistakably innocent childlike voices would call out and answer, someone would shout on their own, burst into laughter—and amidst all this, a deep adult voice with resonant power could also be heard mingling in.
It truly did seem like something interesting was happening.
Unable to resist any longer, I ran in that direction.
Getting snagged on monkey brambles and stomping my foot into hollows, I kept running desperately in that direction.

Then, as I ran, the brambles in the field gradually thinned out, giving way to an abundance of that smokeweed plume grass—you know, the kind with those foot-long, smoke-like tassels. I pounded across it without hesitation. Then, for some reason, I suddenly felt as if my legs had been swept out from under me by a stick or something, and I went down with a thud into the grass. When I hurriedly got up and looked, my legs were entangled in the grass’s crumpled, tangled tassels. I rose with a bitter smile and ran again. Again, I collapsed with a thud. When I found it strange and looked closely, I saw that the smokeweed plume grass’s tassels weren’t merely crumpled and tangled—they had been properly tied together from both sides like a gate. It was a type of trap. When I looked around that area, I found that those traps had indeed been made in great numbers. There, I began walking again with considerable caution. I walked as carefully as I could, moving my feet as if threading through without dragging them sideways, but before I had gone even twenty steps, I was once again sent sprawling with a thud. At the same time, from the direction ahead, a burst of laughter erupted, followed by hooting and hollering. White and brown fox children—some wearing only vests, others sporting just shorts—a great many of them were jeering and hooting as they looked this way. Some tilted their heads sideways while laughing, others pursed their lips in silence; some gaped their mouths skyward panting "haa haa haa," others leapt up repeatedly shouting—a great many white and brown fox children were present. Ah—I’ve finally come to Fox Elementary School, I’ve come to Ibarumi Fox Elementary School that I once heard about somewhere from someone—I thought, my face burning crimson as I stood up and rubbed my body. At that moment, the fox students suddenly fell silent. The teacher in a black frock coat came quietly forward, neither closing nor opening his pointed brown mouth, his eyes fixed steadily ahead. Even if I called him a teacher, he was of course a fox teacher. The pointed ears remain vividly etched in my memory even now.

Suddenly, the teacher came to an abrupt halt.

“You’ve made traps again.”
“What were you thinking, doing such a thing? If something were to happen to our honored guest who has gone out of their way to visit us—?”
“This matter concerns the school’s reputation.”
“Today, I must punish all of you.”

The fox students all either flattened their ears or raised both hands to their heads and drooped dejectedly.
The teacher came over to me.

“Are you here to observe?”

I thought to myself—since I’d come all this way anyway, I might as well declare I wanted to observe their operations; even though today was Sunday, the bell had rung earlier, and given they were foxes, they probably had rather arbitrary rules anyway—so it likely wasn’t a day off after all.

“Yes, I very much wish to do so.”

“Do you have an introduction?”

I suddenly recalled a sketch of Fox Elementary School by someone named Takashi that had once appeared in Yōnen Gahō.

“It’s Mr. Takashi, the painter.”

“Do you have a letter of introduction?”

“I don’t have a letter of introduction, but Mr. Takashi is now quite distinguished.”
“He’s a member of the Art Academy.”

The fox teacher waved his hand as if to say “That won’t suffice.”

“In any case, you do not possess a letter of introduction.”

“I don’t possess one.”

“Very well.”
“Please come this way.”
“It is currently the noon recess, but I will guide you through the afternoon classes.”

I followed the fox teacher.
The students shrank and saw me off.
There must have been about fifty of them in total.
After we had passed by, they all gradually stood up.

The teacher suddenly looked back.
And he sternly commanded.

“Undo all the traps.”
“Don’t you realize this kind of behavior concerns the school’s reputation?”
“I’ll punish the ringleader soon.”

The students were darting about in circles, undoing all the grass traps.

I saw a beautiful wild rose hedge of about seven shaku in height in the distance.
The hedge’s length was certainly twelve ken.
In its very center was an entrance, and the interior was elevated by one step.
I had truly believed it was a hedge.
However, the teacher

“Now then, please do come in,” the teacher said courteously. I did exactly that—stepped inside—and found myself utterly astonished.
It was the entrance.
The interior was covered in neatly trimmed short lawn, with various partitions constructed from wild roses arranged throughout.
Moreover, there were shoe racks, leather slippers laid out in pairs, and even a whisk made from gathered horse tails properly hung up.
Immediately at the top of the entranceway was the principal’s office—a room partitioned by wild roses bearing a black placard with white lettering—and beyond that lay a corridor.
The faculty room, classrooms, and all were neatly partitioned by wild rose trees.
They were all just like our elementary school.
However, the differences lay in there being no windows in either the classrooms or corridors, and furthermore no roof—though this made sense since without a roof windows would naturally be unnecessary—and moreover with white clouds shining as they passed overhead, I thought it must indeed be quite practical.
In the principal’s office, I could catch flickering glimpses of a white-clad figure moving about.
I could also hear someone clearing their throat.
As I was gazing around restlessly, the teacher smiled slightly and said.

“Please put on the slippers.”
“I will inform the Principal now.”

There, I removed my long boots, put on slippers, took down my backpack, and carried it by hand.
In the meantime, the teacher went into the principal’s office, and before long came out with the principal.
The Principal was a gaunt white fox wearing what appeared to be a cool linen standing collar.
Of course, since it was Western-style clothing for a fox, the trousers had a pouch for the tail.
I thought the tailoring cost wasn’t cheap either.
And he wore large round spectacles, his eyes behind them a pure golden hue.
The Principal stared intently at me.
Then he hurriedly said.

“Welcome.”
“Come now, please do come in.”
“I understand the students did something quite rude in the schoolyard.”
“Come now, please do come in.”
“Please come in.”

I followed the Principal and entered the principal’s office.
It was magnificent.
On the desk was a globe, and in the glass cabinet behind it were a chicken skeleton, various trap specimens, a taxidermied wolf, skillfully crafted clay models of various guns, a hunter’s rain hat, birding caps—in short, everything necessary for a fox’s elementary education had been provided.
I widened my eyes and could do nothing but glance around restlessly here as well.
Before long, the Principal poured tea and served it to me.
When I looked, it was black tea.
It appeared to have milk in it as well.
I was utterly flabbergasted.

“Now then, please do have a seat.”

I took a seat.

“Well now, if I may ask—your profession remains within the educational field, I take it?”
The Principal inquired.

“Yes, I am an agricultural school teacher.”

“Is today a day off for you?”

“Ah, it’s Sunday.”

“Ah, I see. Given that your side employs the solar calendar, Sundays are your days off, then.”

I felt a peculiar sensation.

“Then how does it work on your side?”

The fox Principal looked up at a particular spot in the blue-glowing sky, quietly twisting his mustache as he answered.

“Ah, yes, yes—a most reasonable inquiry indeed. In our case, due to our use of the lunar calendar, Mondays are our days off.”

I was thoroughly impressed; given how things were progressing, this school must be quite advanced indeed. It occurred to me that perhaps in fox society they only had elementary schools and universities—or maybe this Ibarumi Elementary School taught up through fifth-year middle school level—so I hurriedly inquired:

“How does it stand? Are there quite a large number of students who advance to university here at your school?”

The Principal answered with evident pride, gazing off in a completely wrong direction overhead.

“Well now, this year has seen an unusually high number of students aspiring to practical industries—out of thirteen graduates, twelve have returned to their hometowns to engage in labor. Only one took Ōyachi University’s entrance examination, which passed most splendidly indeed.”

It was exactly as I had expected.

At that moment, a scraggly russet-furred fox teacher wearing only a black vest entered from the neighboring faculty room, bowed to me, and said.

“How should we punish Takeda Kin'ichirou?”

The Principal slowly turned in that direction, then looked at me.

"This is the third-grade homeroom teacher."
"This gentleman is a teacher at Asō Agricultural School."

I bowed slightly.

“So you’re asking how we should punish Takeda Kin'ichirou? Even with our honored guest present, go summon him for a moment.”

The third-grade homeroom teacher—a russet-furred fox—bowed respectfully and withdrew. Soon after, a fox student clad in a short blue checkered jacket entered, slinking behind that same teacher.

The Principal removed his glasses with dignified composure. After fixing his gaze upon Takeda Kin'ichirou, the fox student, for a prolonged interval, he spoke.

“You were the one who told everyone to set those grass traps on the playground, weren’t you?”

Takeda Kin'ichirou straightened up and answered.

“Yes.”

“Don’t you think doing something like that was wrong?”

“I think it was wrong now, but at the time I set them, I didn’t think it was wrong.”

“Why didn’t you think it was wrong?”

“Because I didn’t intend to make the guest fall.”

“What was your reasoning for setting them?”

“We thought we’d hold an obstacle course together.”

“The school forbids setting those traps—did you forget that?”

“I did remember.”

“Then why did you do such a thing? In this manner, honored guests frequently visit. Moreover, setting up such things at the playground entrance—what would we do if something were to happen to an honored guest? Even though you were well aware that the school forbids it, what reason could you possibly have for doing such a thing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you wouldn’t know.”
“You truly don’t understand, do you?”
“Well, that’s... acceptable for now.”
“You all apparently laughed when this gentleman tripped over those traps and fell, but I was listening here as well—why did you do such a thing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you wouldn’t know.”
“You truly don’t understand at all.”
“If you truly understood, you all wouldn’t possibly do such a thing.”
“Well then, regarding today’s incident—I shall formally apologize to our honored guest on your behalf. From now on, you must exercise far greater caution. Is that clear?”
“You must never again do anything the school forbids.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“You may return to your play now.”
This time, the Principal turned to me.
The homeroom teacher was still standing properly.

“Given the circumstances you’ve just witnessed—their being utterly innocent—it appears they certainly did not laugh out of any malicious intent. Therefore, I humbly request your kind forgiveness.”

I of course replied immediately.

“Not at all. I am the one who came barging unannounced into your school’s playground and caused such commotion. If having your students laugh at me would please them, I should count myself fortunate indeed.”

The Principal wiped his glasses and put them on.

“Oh, thank you.”
“Hey, Mr. Takemura.”
“You too must offer your thanks.”

Mr. Takemura, the third-year homeroom teacher, also gave me a slight bow, then nodded to the Principal and exited toward the faculty room.

The fox Principal looked down and sniffed two or three times before pouring me a fresh cup of black tea.
At that moment, the bell rang.
It must have been ten minutes before afternoon classes were to begin.
The Principal said while looking at the black-painted timetable across the room:

"In the afternoon: first grade has Ethics and Self-Defense; second grade has Hunting Techniques; third grade has Food Chemistry—this is how it's scheduled. Will you be observing all of them?"

"Well, I would like to observe everything."
"They seem most intriguing."
"It's truly regrettable that it hadn't cleared up since this morning."

“Oh, we shall request your presence again another time.”

“Is Self-Defense combined with Ethics?”

“Yes, until last year we taught them separately, but it seems the results were rather unsatisfactory.”

“I see. And to have something like Hunting as part of your curriculum—that’s quite a refined subject you offer.”
“In my field, well, that’s only found in higher specialized schools and university forestry departments.”

“Ah, I see.
However, your ‘hunting’ and my ‘hunting’ differ entirely in substance, hmm.
Your Hunting falls under my Self-Defense, while my Hunting—well, pre-hunting industry would fall under your Animal Husbandry, I suppose. In any case, I shall explain these matters thoroughly when the time comes.”

At that moment, the bell rang again.

Amidst the clamor of voices, followed by commands of “Attention!”, “Number off!”, “Right face!”, and “Forward march!”, the fox students seemed to gradually enter their classrooms one class at a time.

After some time had passed, every classroom fell completely silent.
The deep voices of the teachers could be heard.

“Now then, allow me to show you around.”
The Principal rose from his chair with a wise look, pursing his lips in a smile.
I followed him out of the room.

“I will begin by showing you the first-grade class.”

The Principal entered a room with rose-patterned walls beneath a black-painted sign reading “First Classroom, First Grade, Homeroom Teacher: Takei Koukichi”.
I also followed him inside.
The teacher there—whom I hadn’t yet met—stood at the lectern in truly stylish attire, his silver hair trimmed in an exceedingly refined German-style cut and dressed in a white morning coat.
Of course, behind the lectern on the bramble-covered wall hung a blackboard, in front of the teacher stood a table, and all fifteen or so students were properly seated at white desks listening to the lecture.
When I had fully entered and stood there, the teacher descended from the lectern and bowed to us.
Then he ascended the lectern and said.

“This is the teacher from Asou Agricultural School.
“Now then, everyone stand up.”

The fox students all sprang to their feet.

“As part of your greeting, you will sing the school song of Asou Agricultural School.”
“Ready? One, two, three!”
The teacher began conducting with his hand.
The students started singing my school’s song at full volume.
I reeled uncontrollably, nearly bursting into tears.
Who could visit Ibarumi Fox Elementary without warning, hear their own school song sung by fox pupils, and not weep?
Still I clenched my jaw again and again, contorting my face to hold back the tears.
The pain far outweighed any joy.
When the song ended, the teacher gave a brief acknowledgment, motioned the students to sit with a hand gesture, and picked up his whip.

On the blackboard was written “The greatest deception is honesty,” and the teacher continued his explanation.

“Now then, fundamentally speaking, deception is impermissible.
“No matter how skillfully you deceive, it’s no use.
“When a wise person hears it, they can immediately tell the difference.
“That is, wise people can immediately discern truth from falsehood through the balance of the words, through their sound, and through the face and form of the one speaking them.
“Therefore, lies may seem clever for a brief moment, but they will inevitably fail before long.”

“Therefore, the meaning of this maxim is that if someone were to tell a lie of this sort and attempt to execute it skillfully in this manner—
“If at that time you carefully repeat what you’re saying to yourself over and over, you gradually realize that this approach will likely be seen through—feeling that you must phrase it a bit differently—so you completely revise your wording and try repeating it again in your mind, yet even then it still seems inadequate, leading you to think, ‘Perhaps I should put it this way...’”
“Even that still seems inadequate—I think I’ll try this way.”
“If they keep thinking this way with all their might, in the end it will inevitably become the truth.”
“If you tell the truth, what actually happens is that it turns out better than if you had skillfully crafted a deception—even if it seems unfavorable at first, in the end, ultimately, it leads to a favorable outcome.”
“Therefore, this maxim is also—

“It is also said: ‘Honesty constitutes the supreme expedient.’”

The teacher turned to face the blackboard and wrote this maxim alongside the previous one.

All the students were listening attentively with their hands properly placed on their knees and ears perked up, but at this moment they all simultaneously took up their pens and copied down the characters from the blackboard.

The Principal briefly looked at my face.
Since he seemed to want to know how I felt about the lecture, I closed my eyes for five or six seconds to demonstrate that I was deeply moved.

The teacher stood perfectly still with his hands behind his back while everyone finished writing, but when they began clattering down their pencils and turning their eyes toward him, he resumed his lecture.

“Therefore, the current maxim ‘Honesty constitutes the supreme expedient’ does not merely mean it benefits us to avoid falsehoods—there exists an exactly inverse application.”
“That humans refrain from deceiving us likewise constitutes the supreme expedient.”
“As one exemplar of this principle, consider traps.”
“Though traps manifest in diverse forms, the most perilous are those bearing unmistakable trap-like configurations.”
“Moreover, these prove precisely the most crudely constructed devices.”
“From humanity’s perspective—while traps vary widely—those most efficacious at capturing foxes remain traditional fox traps: implements crafted in exact imitation of fox-catching apparatuses, as the saying goes.”
“Honesty constitutes the supreme expedient—precisely as formulated here.”

Though I found even Ethics class strange and my head was spinning, I now recalled how the Principal had earlier said that Ethics and Self-Defense had been combined into one subject starting this academic year—which would likely yield better results—and with a quiet "Ah, I see," I nodded in understanding.

The teacher said, “Mr. Takemu, please stand up, go to the principal’s office, and bring back the trap specimens,” whereupon an adorable fox student wearing a red vest, who had been sitting near me in the front row,

"Yes!" he said, standing up, gave us a quick bow, then swiftly exited through the bramble-walled doorway.

The teacher waited silently during that time.
The students also remained silent.
The sky filled with white clouds at that moment, the sun raced beyond them like a silver circular mirror, the wind blew in, and the green walls swayed here and there.

Takemu came in panting heavily.
He brought all five trap specimens that were inside the glass cabinet in the principal's office earlier.
After he placed them on the teacher's desk, the boy returned to his seat, and the teacher took up one of them.

“This is American-made and called a Fox Catcher.”
“It’s nickel-plated and glinting like this.”
“When you put your foot in this ring here, it snaps shut with a click, and you can’t get free anymore.”
“Of course, since this device gets chained to a thick tree or such, once your foot’s caught, that’s truly the end.”
“Yet nobody would deliberately stick their foot into such a glaring oddity.”

The fox students burst into laughter.
The fox Principal also laughed.
The fox teacher also laughed.
I also laughed involuntarily.
I found it somewhat strange that illustrations of these traps were surely included toward the end of seed and seedling catalogs both abroad and in Japan, and yet they were still effective.

At this moment, the Principal took out a pocket watch from his hiding place and glanced at it briefly.
So I, thinking that since time was getting on, the Principal might be about to suggest guiding us to the next classroom, made a slight movement of my body.
The Principal smoothly left the room from there.
I also followed him out.

We entered a classroom marked "Second Classroom, Second Grade, Homeroom Teacher: Takeike Seijirou," with a black-lacquered board hanging down.
The teacher was the person we had met earlier on the playground.
The students also stood up and bowed in unison.

The teacher immediately resumed his lecture from where he had left off.

"Therefore, you have come to thoroughly understand the importance of these components—starch, fat, and protein."

"Next, I will explain which foods contain these three components and in what proportions."
"Generally speaking, among all foods, chicken is rich in nourishment, delicious, and also very impressive in appearance."
"Chicken is indeed justly called the king of foods."
"Now, I shall present an analysis table of chicken meat composition."
"Everyone, please write this in your notebooks."

“Protein is 18.5%, fat is 9.3%, and carbohydrates are 1.2%.”
“Chicken meat is not only rich in nourishment this way but also remarkably easy to digest.”
“Especially when it comes to young chicken meat—if I were to describe just how tender and delicious it truly is,”
The teacher swallowed a mouthful of saliva. “It’s utterly impossible to convey through mere words.”
“Those who have tasted it would understand.”

The students fell completely silent for a while.
The Principal was also staring fixedly at the floor, deep in thought.
The teacher took out a handkerchief, neatly wiped around his mouth, and then spoke again.

“Now generally speaking—not limited to this chicken meat—bird meat contains abundant phosphorus, the most crucial element for nourishing our brain nerves.”

This was exactly the sort of thing written in girls’ school home economics textbooks—the level was indeed quite high, I thought; it couldn’t be taken lightly.
The teacher continued.

“Chicken eggs are also excellent. In composition compared to chicken meat, the protein content is slightly lower and the fat content slightly higher. This is commonly used by sick people too. Next comes fried tofu. Fried tofu used to be in ample supply in the past, but these days it’s really not like that anymore. Therefore, truth be told, this is a food that has fallen into disuse. The composition is twenty-two percent protein, eighteen point seven percent fat, and zero point nine percent carbohydrates—but nowadays this isn’t particularly important. What has recently become popular in place of fried tofu is corn. However, this isn’t digested very well.”

“Since there remains but a little time, I shall guide you to the next classroom.”
The Principal whispered softly to me.
At this I nodded, and the Principal took the lead in exiting the room.

“The Third Classroom is located at the far end.”
The Principal returned briskly down the hallway while speaking.
The place we reached after passing beside the First Classroom, crossing the entranceway, and going past the principal’s office and teachers’ room was the Third Classroom, where a sign read “Third Grade – Homeroom Teacher: Takehara Hisasuke.”
This was the classroom of that teacher with rough, tea-colored fur.
It was time for Hunting Techniques.

When we entered, both the teacher and the students stood up and greeted us.
Then the lecture continued.

“So you’ve all understood that in hunting there are three phases: preliminary work, main work, and follow-up work.
The preliminary work is to encourage poultry farming, the main work is to capture them, and the follow-up work is to consume them—that’s how it goes.”

“I intend to explain the methods for encouraging poultry farming as preliminary work in detail later, but for now, let me present one example as a model.
Not long ago, as I was strolling through the Ibarukumo pine grove, a human student wearing a black kokura cloth uniform came walking toward me from the opposite direction, deeply engrossed in thought.
I immediately understood what that student was thinking, so I suddenly leaped out in front.”

“Then, since the student seemed somewhat startled, I first spoke as follows.”

“Hey, do you know what I am?”

Then that student said.

“You're a fox，aren't you?”

“That's right．But you're really troubled thinking about something，aren't you?”

“No, I’m not thinking about anything at all,” that student said.
In truth, I found that reply quite to my liking.

“Then shall I try to figure out what you’re thinking?”

“No, I don’t need that,” that student said.
I liked that response even more.

“You’re trying to figure out what to say at the school festival the day after tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, actually, that’s right.”

“I see. Then I’ll tell you.”
“On the day after tomorrow, you should speak about the necessity of poultry farming.”
“In farmers’ houses there’s plenty of wheat and millet mixed with sand from spillage, discarded vegetable leaves and such.”
“Cabbages and the like get covered with green caterpillars.”
“Feed all of that to the chickens.”
“The chickens will gobble it up eagerly.”
“They’ll lay eggs too.”
“You should explain how profitable this is.”

When I said this, that student became thoroughly delighted, expressed profuse gratitude, and departed.
That student must have said it at the school festival.
Then everyone, thinking it only natural, promptly began poultry farming.
Large chickens and chicks were produced in great numbers.
"So we promptly set about our main work, as we say."

In truth, when I heard this story, I found it so absurdly funny I could hardly contain myself.
That student was a second-year at my school.
There had indeed been a school festival not long before, and at that time, everyone had been properly talking about everything from encountering foxes onward.
However, the ending was slightly different.
In that student’s version,

“What? You had me promote poultry farming just so you could catch them yourself?” When he said this, the fox clutched his head and fled at full speed.
However, I did not voice that thought aloud.
Just then, as the dismissal bell rang in the distance, the teacher,

“We’ll stop here for today,” he said with a bow.

I followed the Principal and returned to the principal’s office.
The Principal poured more tea into my teacup and said,
“What are your impressions?”

I answered.

“To be honest, my head has become all muddled.”

The Principal laughed heartily.

“Ah ha ha!
“Everyone says that.”
“By the way, did you find anything good in the field today?”

“Yes, I found a volcanic bomb.
“It’s quite imperfect.”

“Let me take a look.”

I reluctantly took it out from my backpack.
The Principal took it in his hands and examined it for a while.

“This is an excellent specimen.
“How about it?
“Would you consider donating one to the school?” he said.
I reluctantly,

"Yes, that would be perfectly acceptable," I answered.

The Principal silently put it into the glass cabinet.

My head was now swimming so badly I couldn’t bear it.

Then the Principal abruptly said,
"Well then, goodbye."
So I too,

While saying, "I must take my leave," I hurried out of the entrance.
Then I started running.

The fox students were shrieking, and the teachers' booming voices trying to restrain them echoed clearly from behind.
I ran and ran until I reached the area of Ibarumi Field that I usually visit.
Then, having finally calmed down, I slowly walked home.

In the end, I couldn’t make heads or tails of what educational policy Ibarumi Fox Elementary School actually had.
To tell the truth, I just don’t understand.