Pathway to Japanese Literature

Taro turned eleven yesterday. When Mother asked what she should give him for his birthday celebration, Taro answered that he wanted a diary. Then Mother promptly bought him a first-class one. Since all three of my sisters keep diaries, I have to keep one too to hold my ground. They say the beginning is the most important part of anything. Someone you find detestable when you first meet them will always be detestable—that’s what Sister Hana keeps saying. So I resolved to nail this opening properly and racked my brains for ideas, but nothing interesting came to mind. All things have their beginnings. The New Year starts with greetings of renewal, speeches open by addressing distinguished guests, and letters commence with formal salutations. Yet since I didn’t even know how diaries were supposed to begin from the very start, I remained utterly clueless. This was hopeless.

Not knowing what might be written in Sister Hana’s diary but having the bright idea to sneak a peek for reference, Taro crept up to his sister’s room. He knew she usually kept it in her desk drawer, but finding a key that fit the lock proved quite a struggle. She must have locked it on purpose. The thing was full of nasty comments about him. First off, I couldn’t stand how she kept writing my name over and over like “Taro, Taro” like I didn’t matter. Lines like “Taro’s big mouth blabbed everything” were downright cruel. Who’s the real chatterbox here? Anyway, deciding to deal with the fallout later, Taro carefully copied down a whole page before she got back.

Shortly after sunset, Mr. Tomita arrived. Mr. Tomita would come to visit almost every night. He was a corpulent man with a rock-solid frame. His face was quite awkward and dutifully widower-like, but he was said to have a great deal of money. According to Oshima, he was quite taken with Sister Hana—whether he had been taken with her over cards or ping-pong, I hadn't inquired in detail about that part. When Taro, clutching that diary of his, strode smugly into the parlor, Mr. Tomita was there making his ruddy face shine greasily,

“Well, Mr. Taro, how’s it going?” With that, he gave me a piece of candy. Taro didn’t particularly dislike this person. When he asked what I was holding, I answered that it was a diary—still freshly bought, received, copied, and brand new! Then, since he still seemed eager to see it, I showed it to him. "Hmm, this is quite extravagant. “It’s gold-edged.” Mr. Tomita was examining Taro’s diary with great care. Thinking he could win Sister Hana’s favor by lavishing charm even on Taro, but using such working-class terms like "extravagant" and "lavish" would never endear him to Sister Hana, who prided herself on her refined airs. Even so, Mr. Tomita,

“Miss Hana, I shall now read Mr. Taro’s diary aloud, so please listen attentively as well, Miss Uta.” By the time he said this and rose from his chair, both Sister Hana and Sister Uta had nodded as if to say “Please do.” Taro too thought it would be amusing and raised no particular objection—though looking back now, he should have protested then. In the end, it became a terrible mess. Mr. Tomita cleared his throat with an affected “Ahem,” utterly undeterred, and promptly began reading.

“Someone like Mr. Tomita should just stop coming already. “He even came on Sunday night and was truly annoying. “I simply cannot stand that man. “Mother says he has money, but property isn’t everything that makes a person. “Who in their right mind would willingly marry into such a place as a young woman? “Even Mother must have memories from her own youth—she could at least try to genuinely put herself in my position for once. “With those demon-like hands of his, there’s no way they’re not hideous. “Apart from how many rental houses he owns or how much land he has, he can’t even hold a decent conversation or display any talents worth mentioning. “Acting so unbecomingly for his age—what on earth is with that red tie of his? “He’s truly a naturally detestable, affected person. “First of all, his tastes are vulgar. “It’s not just low—it’s completely nonexistent. “The other day, on his way out, he tried to grab me and give me an improper kiss... If I have to be kissed by such a man, I’d rather have an Ise shrimp kiss me instead. “How can people be so different even though they’re all human?”

“Oh, Mr. Shimizu! I wonder if Mr. Shimizu is angry with me. The other day he made such strangely sarcastic remarks again—why must the world be this way? Truly masculine men stay poor while someone like Mr. Tomita grows rich—it’s like the world’s playing a cruel joke on us all. If only Mr. Shimizu were Mr. Tomita and Mr. Tomita were Mr. Shimizu… Oh, but that wouldn’t solve anything either. Even if Mr. Shimizu became Mr. Tomita and Mr. Tomita became Mr. Shimizu—it still wouldn’t work out right.” “Oh, I’ve gotten myself completely tangled up!”

Miss Hana grew frantic trying to retrieve the diary, but Mr. Tomita—though short—stood taller than her. Moreover, each time he refused to hand it over by stretching up and raising his hand high, there was nothing to be done. In the end, he finished reading it. And lo and behold, his face turned truly crimson like an Ise shrimp. When Taro thought he was in trouble, he was startled as Mr. Tomita suddenly grabbed his hand. “Taro, this must be your doing,”

“No, it wasn’t me.” “I copied Sister Hana’s diary.”

And Taro, thinking it would be wrong to lie, answered with the unvarnished truth. Now, if Mr. Tomita had been a reasonable man like Washington’s father, he would have immediately lifted Taro up and declared—in that literal-minded way of his—something like “Though written here as ‘Great Fool Santarō,’ I prefer having my dear Taro who tells not a single lie,” rejoicing greatly. But unfortunately, the other party was not such a man, nor were we Washingtons ourselves, leaving us now with no way whatsoever to voice complaints. I should have lied. Mr. Tomita’s face visibly changed color, and though he worked his mouth as if to say something, he merely gulped loudly and left without a word. A sound so loud it seemed the door might shatter. Taro felt somehow terribly sorry.

Just as Mr. Tomita reached the gate, Sister Hana suddenly sank her teeth into the back of his neck. “Taro, you really are impossible!” Taro had already been thoroughly mortified moments before this happened, so now he felt as if his heart had shot straight up to the crown of his head. And thinking that if this situation became troublesome he might face even more problems, he quickly shook her off and fled headlong into his room.

Today, everyone in the house was in a foul mood. They gave Taro cold stares whenever they saw his face. According to O-Shima’s account, due to Taro’s meddling, the marriage negotiations that had been nearly finalized were completely ruined. In other words, it seemed that because of Taro, Sister Hana could no longer go to be married to Mr. Tomita. If that was truly the case, then wasn’t this exactly what she wished for? Sister ought to prostrate herself in gratitude and thank me. Yet what a contradictory treatment this was. They acted recklessly and curtly, glaring at Taro as if about to bite. Truly, this was the epitome of ungrateful behavior. I’d absolutely decided I’d never go running errands to Mr. Shimizu’s place again, so there.

At a time like this, staying home wasn't the least bit enjoyable. However, being the eldest son meant I couldn't just run away to become a train conductor, so I'd shouldered my fishing rod and headed to the river—though looking back now, it would've been better not to go fishing at all. I always ended up regretting things afterward. Though Mr. Pastor did say humans needed to feel regret, so maybe this was for the best. Be that as it may, I fell into the river and nearly died. All of this—from start to finish—was my sisters' fault. I'd really wanted to stay home, but my sisters kept glaring at me like playground bullies and shooing me out, so even though I hated it, I'd forced myself to leave. Who in their right mind would want to fall into a river through sheer misfortune? That I fell was undoubtedly my own mistake. Yet the cause of that mistake lay entirely with my sisters.

The weather was too fine, so the fish weren't taking the bait at all. Bored out of his mind, Taro ate waffles, devoured biscuits, and even polished off an apple. Just as he was about to give up and pack it in, his float started bobbing furiously. The rod bent taut from being yanked repeatedly. Thinking I'd hooked something big, I lifted the rod—but leaned too far forward in the process—and tumbled headfirst into the river. I didn't fall in because I wanted to fall.

When I came to my senses, I found myself surrounded by a crowd beside a straw fire. They probably thought I had died and meant to cremate me. Impatient lot. If I’d regained my senses after turning to bones, what exactly were they planning to do? That was truly a close call. There was no room for carelessness or letting one’s guard down.

Carried on Uncle Mizuguruma’s back, I arrived home just as dusk was settling in. Mother clutched me and shed tears. It was exactly as though we had been parted for ten years. The sisters too stirred up a commotion with their “Taro! Taro!” cries as if my birthday market had begun. Sister Hana—perhaps feeling guilty herself—brought high-quality biscuits to my bedside. Everyone’s moods had already completely changed. Upon reflection—to borrow my Osaka uncle’s words—falling into that river wasn’t such a bad deal after all. Be that as it may, being swaddled in blankets with such abandon—it wasn’t like they were taking a photograph—and being endlessly told “Stay still! Stay still!” proved thoroughly exhausting. The heat became unbearable. They must have reasoned that since I’d been chilled by water simply reversing it through warmth would cure everything. Even Dr. Morikawa subscribed to this uncharacteristically simplistic theory.

I was so unbearably hot that I stealthily slipped out of the room and into the parlor, but since getting caught would mean another scolding, I hid behind the window curtains. There, my body grew thoroughly exhausted, and soon I fell asleep.

When I came to, vaguely aware of voices around me, the lamps were already lit. Right before me, two people sat on the bench. Not merely sitting—they appeared to be leaning against each other. One was undoubtedly Sister Haru. I could tell by the scent of perfume. Sister Haru’s fragrance was always violet. As for Sister Haru’s companion, the other could only be that modern bamboo shoot of his. Dr. Morikawa had earlier given me medicine and seemed to still be dawdling about. The one playing piano upstairs was probably Sister Uta. But that seemed a bit too skilled for Sister Uta. As I thought to myself that since Mr. Tomita wasn’t coming tonight, Sister Hana must be upstairs too...

“Now, Haruko-san, it’s only six months, so please wait patiently, alright?” “Come autumn, they’ll need a young doctor at Dr. Shimojou’s hospital.” “The basic arrangements are already in place, so if that happens, we’ll see patients increasing more than we do now.” “Just half a year—six months more. Please wait, won’t you?” “Haruko-san.”

It was definitely the doctor’s voice—but what on earth were they waiting for? “If you remain firm in your resolve,” Sister Haru replied, “I would wait for years.” The two of them started giggling together. What could possibly be so amusing about that? This situation was far more ridiculous—yet I kept holding my breath and listening. “But Haruko-san,” came Morikawa’s voice again, “we must keep this absolutely secret.” “Secrecy,” he added solemnly, “is the best strategy.”

“Of course I intend to do the same.”

Whether Haru had finished answering or not, there came a knock-knock at the front door from outside. Then Sister Hana sprang up as if struck by lightning, Dr. Morikawa mimicking her leapt up like a bouncing ball, and the two sat primly facing each other across the table with a "Please come in." What a pair of performers they were.

Almost at the same moment, the door opened and a crowd came noisily bustling in. Mother stepped forward and inquired, “Pardon me—has Taro come here?” Dr. Morikawa answered, “No, not at all.” “There’s absolutely nothing of the sort.” I’ve been right here this whole time—not even three feet away! Today—since I’d nearly died—well-wishers had come calling; but with the guest of honor himself nowhere to be seen, Mother had come searching. “There’s absolutely nothing of the sort.”

And since I thought causing any more worry would be inexcusable, I leapt out from behind the window curtains, suddenly dropped to all fours there, and let out a low growl. “Oh, Taro, what on earth have you done now?” Mother, as if utterly exasperated, pulled at her sleeve and began to flail about in a panic.

“Oh, Taro-san, have you been in here all this time?” Sister Haru widened her prized large eyes.

“Yes, I was here. I’ve been here since around the sixteenth century.” “Hey, Sister, ‘secrecy is the best strategy,’ right?” “Half a year is six months, isn’t it?” “Heh heh heh heh heh.”

And I took a step forward and gave them a red-eyed glare.

Haru turned red and grabbed Taro. And then, “Now off you go over there. You’re causing Mother to worry.” Having left everything to Mother, she seemed determined to drive Taro away.

“I’ll go, I’ll go! I’d have gone even without you doing something so awful! But Sister, you and Dr. Morikawa…” Women have no rationality—it’s such a nuisance. Sister suddenly covered Taro’s mouth, dragged him out, and closed the door.

Taro found himself swaddled in blankets again, utterly immobilized. With Oshima standing guard this time, escape proved completely impossible. Ignoring Oshima’s tearful protests of “You mustn’t!”, he wriggled forward to scribble in his diary. However far he leaned out this time, the river refused to claim him. All the while, Oshima kept yawning like a suffocating fish flopping on dry land. Her exhaustion proved contagious, until drowsiness weighed heavy on Taro too.

For two weeks, keeping a diary was out of the question. Apparently falling into the river and swallowing water, then getting chilled during that first flush of sweat was what did me in. Dr. Morikawa came to see me twice a day. He was a kind person. I shouldn't have made such a scene the other day. But Haru was such a thick-headed woman. That morning she'd told Sister Hana that since preparations would keep them busy from now on, it'd be just fine if I stayed in bed for a while. I didn't know what preparations she meant—where exactly does one have to press to make such a racket? Unbelievable. When I was healthy, I would go send mail three times a day. Though I did lose the letters three or four times along the way—but since I kept silent like a mole rat each time, there was no way anyone could've found out. What nonsense—treating me like a scrap of wood and saying I should stay in bed for a month?

This morning I felt quite well—so much that I wanted to get up. When O-Shima brought breakfast, I stealthily slipped out of bed and hid behind the door. Having draped Mother’s black shawl over myself from head to toe, I sank my teeth into O-Shima’s leg the instant she began opening the door. O-Shima—thinking me Pochi or some such—flung away the tray and let out an absurdly shrill scream. What an idiot. The whole household came swarming over like they’d discovered a well to dredge. Tea bowls and everything lay smashed to bits. Utterly thoughtless. I never imagined she could be such a coarse woman. Yet O-Shima didn’t get so much as a reprimand. Only Taro got scolded. Taro had made up his mind. As soon as I’m better, I’ll run away from home and become a train conductor. Nothing unreasonable about that.

From today, it was decided that getting up was permissible. However, he wasn’t allowed to walk. Taro sat wrapped in a blanket on an armchair, but resembling a temple guardian statue, he remained utterly unmanageable. He was bored out of his mind. Being up felt more troublesome than lying down. Since his throat was dry, he dismissed O-Shima with orders to bring hot water and went to Sister Uta’s room. There were many photographs in the drawer. With Ms.Tomiko having arrived, everyone was in the parlor. O-Shima came searching for Taro but, unaware he’d hidden in the cupboard, lied “Oh, he isn’t here either” before leaving. The rest became Taro’s domain.

There were a lot of photographs. People went on about me being mischievous and unruly, but it was my sisters who were the real tomboys. On the backs of the photographs were various playful notes. Among them were some I couldn’t read, but the one labeled “Self-Admiring Mirror” showed a man with his mustache stiffly waxed upward and wearing pince-nez. There was one labeled “This one actually proposed to me!” He had an awkward face. “Portrait of a Donkey” had ears as long as a person’s and looked exactly like a donkey wearing a frock coat. “What a mouth!” You had a ridiculously large mouth. The one labeled “Chinsekai” had a face as terrifying as a fiercely carved Nio guardian deity. There were all sorts of others, but if I were to write each one down, dawn would have broken before I finished. In any case, even when I grew up, I would never give photographs to girls. How could I endure being called a beast or having pencils smeared on me?

Today, for the first time in a long time, he went downstairs and had a meal with everyone.

“Taro, what are you keeping in your pocket like that? It’s bulging out so much! It’s just like that mad collector’s pockets!”

As Sister Uta said, this "Tsū" was a mad beggar who walked through the neighborhood daily—collecting anything he could lay hands on, whether shards of bowls or discarded geta, stuffing them all into his pockets. That was apparently his affliction. And he would walk about singing "Tsū is an idiot" in a strange cadence. The sake-drinking old cooper from the barrel shop praised that beggar of his, saying even as paupers went, he had charm. That said, my heart was pounding anyway, but

“Yes，it’s got all sorts of important things in there.” Sister Uta said with a laugh， “I thought you were preparing to run away again—putting books and kimono into your pocket.” Taro was silently laughing. Everyone was laughing too. That was close.

Around noon, seizing an opportunity, I escaped from home. And I made rounds visiting each of those photograph originals one by one. The very first place I went was “Self-Admiring Mirror”. It was your house. The teacher stood imposingly at his shop like a shachi guardian statue. I thought that even when I grew up, I never wanted such a mustache. No matter how much Kaiser mustaches might spread like cholera epidemics，on him it was far too Kaiser-esque. If they’d been thick that would’ve been one thing，but five or six thin ones sticking straight up and curling back like dragonflies were decidedly not good-looking.

“Oh, Taro! You’ve come at last.” “Are you feeling completely better now?” “Well, that’s excellent.”

Kakusaru Mane was talking to himself. Taro talked for a short while.

“How are your sisters?” “Lately the shop’s been so busy—I’ve been terribly remiss in visiting.” “Is Miss Utako still playing the piano?”

Even though I wasn’t responding, what a talkative guy he was. As if Sister Uta would ever be satisfied just playing piano! While I was thinking things like “Does he think Sister Uta is his sister?”, the teacher brought out a new collar accessory and gave it to me. In return, I pulled out a photograph from my pocket and handed it over. My sisters’ mischief had stretched his mustache to twice its length using a pencil.

“This photograph looks like you, doesn’t it?”

When he said this, his demeanor changed in an instant,

“Taro, this must be your doing. How many people did such a thing?” The teacher made a face that looked ready to bite at any moment.

“Probably done by the gods.” Taro answered with an owl-like stupid face. And since it looked like lightning was about to strike any moment now, he dashed off in a flash.

The next place he went was a general store. Here too was a young master. A red-haired man with a red birthmark on his cheek. Miss Tomiko had said he was exercising with the intention of appearing in Club White Powder advertisements.

“Good day.”

“Hey there, Taro! Good to see you.” “You’ve come at last.” “You liked dried grapes, didn’t you? Here, have some.”

[He] gave Taro a handful of dried grapes and was as delighted as if he’d met his parents’ killer. Having three beautiful sisters meant you were well-regarded wherever you went. Taro sat at the counter and ate grapes. And deciding the timing was right, he took out the photograph and, with a scrutinizing glare, stared at it intently while—

“This photograph really does look like you.” He compared it to his face.

“Let me see.”

The Red Gentleman responded like one of Dr. Morikawa’s live-in students and reached out his hand. “A hand that reaches out is a beggar’s heart,” said Taro, and when he took it seriously and withdrew his hand, Taro shouted loudly again, “A hand that pulls back is a kappa’s heart.” The people in the shop were all laughing. “Enough with the jokes—just show me already!”

Though he should have stopped there—since Mr. Birthmark kept insisting on seeing it—and thinking that teasing him too much might make him blow his top, Taro handed over the photograph. This was also his sisters' mischief, with lots of birthmarks added. The hair had been painted with red ink. On the back was written, "Even this one submitted a proposal, you know." By the time the Red Gentleman had turned into the Blue Gentleman, Taro had already received another handful of dried grapes and was outside leaping about.

Mr. Kataoka was a lawyer. His office was in Shinmachi. He often came to our house, so I knew him well. He was a man with an alarmingly deep voice. When I entered the office, my heart started pounding for some reason. I must have gotten nervous. But since it was on my way, I absolutely had to stop by. “Good day, good day! What curiosities do you have on display today?” “What’s this? Oh, Taro.” The lawyer set down his newspaper and looked down at me. That even the fierce Niō guardians could be made to smile was entirely thanks to Sister Haru’s influence.

“Well, Sister Haru told me this.” “She said something like... ‘If you go to Mr. Kataoka’s office today, you’ll see such a monster!’”

Taro placed the "Strange World" photograph on the tripod desk but was nearly struck. True to its "Strange World" title, things turned violent. Mr. Kataoka was indignant, saying something about suing or whatnot.

I still went to various other places, but writing about each one would take until midnight. Besides, I’ve started puffing like a crucian carp, so let’s end it here. By dinnertime, I had distributed all the photographs and returned home.

At dinner, my sisters were pestering Mother about wanting to hold a dance party the following week, the three of them ganging up on her. However, even if invitations were sent out, not a single man would come. I didn't care if they didn't come. I'd eat all the feast by myself.

With Mother’s permission granted for a Saturday dance party, the sisters were as busy as bees. Taro was also making an extraordinary racket. Even after helping to the point of exhaustion—since they said he was being such a nuisance that there was no dealing with it—he sat down in a chair to watch... and then the doorbell began ringing incessantly. Someone rang it wildly. Wondering who it could be, he rushed over to find their country aunt had arrived. Their aunt came twice a year, staying about a week before leaving. Hana wrinkled her face,

“Hopeless Auntie... She always comes right when we’re in trouble.”

“She’ll be staying another week, won’t she?” “Then she’ll definitely come to the dance party too.” “Wearing those old-fashioned clothes.” “This is so troublesome.”

The three of them were in a bind. Aunt was wealthy but old-fashioned, they said. Her face was said to be one that had just emerged from Noah’s Ark alongside all the animals. When I’d been taught in Sunday school that every animal came out two by two, Aunt must have come out alone—being an old maid and all. Since my sisters were so terribly distressed about it, I too thought this troublesome person’s arrival meant big trouble, and found myself greatly troubled.

After tea, Aunt was alone on the second floor. Taro went to check on Aunt’s mood and, after a brief conversation, broached the main topic.

“Aunt, do you love my sisters or do you hate them?” “What are you saying? Isn’t it precisely because I love your sisters and you that I’ve come all this way from such a distant place?” “Is that genuine?” “You really do ask the most peculiar questions.” “If you truly love them, then Aunt, you should leave right away. My sisters say that since they’re having a dance party, it’ll be a problem if you stay here—they say it’s embarrassing in front of their friends.”

And then Taro went on to explain in detail to ensure she fully understood.

Taro had not expected Aunt to become so enraged. Aunt flared up like fire, immediately grabbed her bag, and went downstairs. She told them to call a rickshaw. Father and Mother were astonished and repeatedly tried to stop her. The sisters too tried to stop her with tearful voices. However, Aunt did not respond. Once she declared something, a woman of her word would never retreat. Uta was brushed aside.

“I will never set foot in your house again, no matter what happens.” “I will never—never ever—come back to this ungrateful household again!” And Aunt, while striking the ground with her umbrella and saying something bovine-like, left briskly still clutching her traveling bag.

“What’s happened?” Father said.

“What could have happened?”

Mother looked at Father’s face. “What in the world could have truly happened?”

The sisters also chimed in. And they all exchanged glances for a moment. There was no need for another “What in the world could have truly happened?” Taro had gone through quite some trouble.

The long-awaited evening of the dance party arrived. O-Shima dressed Taro in his formal clothes and told him not to pat her head sideways, so he threw a punch at her. He wore a new collar pin, pulled on new gloves, carried a new handkerchief—everything fresh from head to toe. The sisters lectured him for thirty minutes about party decorum and threatened to send him straight to bed if he misbehaved. When he entered the hall, his boots squeaked so shrilly it was almost unbearable. Countless lamps blazed. Lovely flowers adorned every corner. The pianist had arrived too. When Taro imagined the ice cream, sweets, tangerines, jelly, cider, and sandwiches, saliva pooled in his mouth. This absolutely wasn't because I'm some glutton. Anyone catches cold and they'll cough. Think sad thoughts and tears flow. Picture sweet things and drool comes. Only natural. Call me vulgar and I'll make you pay.

The sisters were wearing white kimonos and looked many times more beautiful than usual. They wore flowers in their hair. They didn’t look like they were about to pull Taro’s ears.

In the midst of this, guests began to arrive. The women acquaintances mostly gathered. The clock struck nine o'clock. However, the male guests showed no sign of appearing. Dr. Morikawa arrived alone. Taro, having a guilty conscience, felt his legs begin to tremble slightly. The pianist played the piano repeatedly. The group of women, having no choice, formed pairs among themselves and danced. However, seeing that it was dull with only women, they soon stopped. The clock struck nine-thirty. Taro trembled more and more. However, since remaining silent would arouse suspicion,

“The train must have had a power outage, probably. And they’re doing roadwork over there, so cars probably can’t get through.” The guests began whispering among themselves. As the sisters furrowed their brows in distress, suddenly the doorbell rang. “They’re finally here—what a relief!” Everyone suddenly perked up, only to find it all utterly ridiculous. O-Shima entered with a composed expression, holding a business card. Just as everyone assumed it must be a polite refusal—oh no!—the cat was finally out of the bag. The photos from the other day had come back.

Immediately after, the doorbell rang as many as twelve or thirteen times. Each time, O-Shima triumphantly brought the photographs. Finally, two men arrived. On the backs of these people’s photographs was written: “My, what a lovely kiss!” “It said ‘Tailor’s Signboard.’” However, the teachers had interpreted these optimistic notes in the most literal, congratulatory manner and naively shown up. The three men partnered with five women and took turns dancing the Lancers. Yukiko-san was giggling the entire time. Uta-san made a tearful face. Eventually, everyone sat down at the table, but there was an atmosphere as if something were stuck between their back teeth. Taro felt so bad that the fifth cup of ice cream wouldn’t go down his throat.

After the guests had left, Haru-san said she could no longer show her face in society—that if they discovered who had done such mischief, they wouldn’t let it stand. Then Dr. Morikawa stared fixedly at Taro’s face,

“You know about this, don’t you?” he said. “As if I would know!”

“No, how would I know? It’s Pochi. It’s Pochi’s fault. When I made Pochi eat the photos the other day, he carried them in his mouth and took them outside. He must have dropped them somewhere along the way. He’s such a real pain.”

“So you’re the one who released the photos.”

And Sister Haru assumed a terrifyingly fierce demeanor. Once again, the cat was out of the bag. Taro dove into the futon for dear life.

Taro was going to be sent to a distant school this time. He wouldn't be able to come home until March vacation. But I think it's far better than staying home and being bullied by my sisters. He had heard there were plenty of kids like him at the school. The advertisement stated: "The land is high and dry with fresh air, far removed from the hustle and bustle of the city, making it suitable for both children's studies and health. Access to both steam trains and electric trains"—it was written like a hot spring resort advertisement. Moreover, since they had special facilities for young pupils, Father said it shouldn't be such a bad school after all.

Leaving home was hard. Mother and my sisters came to see me off at the entrance.

“Listen well to what your teacher tells you, and don’t catch cold.” When Mother fastened the undone button for me, I felt as if a rice cake had stuck in my throat and silently bowed. After the carriage had traveled some distance, when I looked back, everyone still stood there. O-Shima was waving her handkerchief.

Father came to take him to school and made various requests to the principal. Father said he was troubled by a mischievous child. However, the principal said that children should be lively—a bit mischievous was just right. He was quite a talker.

Tonight would be my first time sleeping in the dormitory. Everyone ate the sweets they had brought. Everyone was bigger than me. I was shocked at how quickly they ate the sweets.

At home right then, my sisters were probably having a conversation in his room. I wondered if Mother had already gone to bed. O-Shima must have been delighted she didn’t have to look after me anymore. I had said I’d write a letter without fail but left it for tomorrow.

Taro was short in stature, so at mealtimes he would place a Webster on top of the chair and sit upon it. Taro sat right next to the principal’s wife. That morning, when the principal’s wife stood up briefly, Taro swiftly moved her chair away. Then, thinking the chair was there, she sat down and fell flat on her behind, still clutching her spoon. Fortunately, being human made it alright—had she been porcelain, she would’ve shattered to pieces.

Taro began studying geography. The teacher said the Earth was round, but I just couldn't see it that way. There was a globe in the classroom. This was perfectly round. However, since I couldn't tell whether it was solid or hollow, I decided I'd try poking a hole in it soon. Taro left it at hollow. He was also taught arithmetic. This instruction came from the principal's wife. It's a book full of nonsense. Taro has five kites; Jiro has ten; Saburo has fifteen. I don't argue that together they make thirty, but fifteen has to be a lie. It's not like we're running a kite shop—what kid actually has ten or fifteen kites?

In addition to the principal and his wife, there was another teacher. He was slightly older than Sister Hana and his name was Mr. Ouchi. I liked this teacher, but Zen-chan said he was an old maid. Even if he's an old maid, I didn't care. When I told him stories from when I lived at home, he showed great sympathy. And he told me to come visit whenever I felt lonely. I decided I'd go play there.

Homesickness is a sad thing. Last night, I recalled various things and couldn't fall asleep for about half an hour. When I thought of O-Shima, suddenly the cross-eyed face of her cousin they always mentioned appeared before my eyes. Being cross-eyed must be so convenient. With their right eye on the book and left eye keeping watch outside, the principal would never catch them. I wish I’d been born cross-eyed too.

Everyone was hopelessly rough. They did terrible things like rolling me up in a futon or pelting me with snowballs. If O-Shima had seen this, she would have surely cried. My silk handkerchief was taken. Mitt had climbed onto the roof. To be fair, this was because I had forcibly put it on the cat’s head, and the cat had gone up to the roof and left it there. But from now on, Zen-chan would be on my side. He said to let him know right away if anyone bullied me, so I felt greatly reassured. Zen-chan was the biggest and the strongest. He was the dormitory monitor. This kid assigned all the nicknames and such. The janitor Mr. Kine was said to have the dejected look of someone who’d fallen behind in the struggle for survival. The principal was at least a man of the Sino-Japanese War era, and it was said he was somewhat behind the times today, unfortunately. When I asked if that meant he’d finally come out of Noah’s Ark, Zen-chan hadn’t understood what Noah’s Ark was. It was said that Mr. Ouchi had been acting a bit hysterical due to a failed romance. The principal’s wife—she was a woman of the new era and, it was said, an ardent advocate for women’s rights. When I asked what a women’s rights advocate was, they said it was something terribly complicated that even if explained to a child, he wouldn’t understand. And it was said there was a half-truth to their claims. When I asked what exactly a half-truth was, they said one shouldn’t ask about such things point by point. Anyway, the principal’s wife was quite proficient in Latin too and seemed more impressive than the principal himself.

Today he ruined the reception room’s carpet and was scolded by the principal. Taro had just tied an ink bottle around a cat’s neck and been confined to his room for three days. It was fine because soon they would beat his cat to death anyway.

O-Shima often said Fridays were unlucky days, and she was absolutely right. When it comes to Fridays, something that’ll get me an earful is bound to happen.

Today, something terrible happened.

The second period was history. Even though the bell rang and everyone entered the classroom, Mummy didn’t come out. Mummy was the principal’s nickname. Because his face resembled that of an Egyptian mummy, we had taken to calling him “Mummy” since earlier days. I wondered what was going on and was about to go check when everyone started clamoring noisily—“Stop! He’s forgotten!” What fools. What on earth were you all coming to school for? Were you happy wasting precious time?

I stealthily went to check the principal’s office. He wasn’t supposed to be there. Mummy was leaning against a chair by the stove, looking quite comfortable as he dozed off. In such a state, even the principal seemed harmless. Even when I went right up close, he remained unaware. His head suddenly dropped forward. With that motion, his hair slipped slightly. I was startled and ran back.

“Hey, this is bad! “The Principal’s hair slipped off!” “Nah, he’s wearing a wig.” “What are you doing?” “It’s fine. He’s sleeping soundly.” And since Taro had the presence of mind, he immediately turned back again. Oh, so he’s wearing something like that—no wonder I thought his hair looked unusually thick for his age.

Worried that he might have already woken up, I went to check on him with some trepidation, only to find the principal remained dead to the world. Even when I went right up to his feet, he remained unfazed and continued snoring. Even when I laid hands on his wig, he remained unperturbed and kept sleeping. Even when I removed it, he stayed composed and kept on snoozing. In this state, even if I gave him a whack or two, he’d probably stay as cool as a cucumber. The principal’s head was a medicine tin. It closely resembled the ostrich egg that my Nichigai Cousin had brought back from Africa as a souvenir.

Taro put on the wig and swaggered into the classroom with great bravado. Everyone applauded and cheered. It was as much of a commotion as if Admiral Togo himself had returned. “This is bad!” “You’ll get in trouble!” “You’ll get expelled!” “You’ve gone too far!” Everyone marveled even more, “Show us! Show us! What is this thing?”

Taro took off the wig. Everyone was taking turns putting it on and delighting in the act. Among them was one who briefly donned it, gave an “ahem,” and cleared his throat. When the wig returned to Taro’s hands, they made him stand at the podium. “How about it? You give us a lecture.” “You’re the Acting Principal now!” There, Taro put on the wig and thrust both hands behind his back. This mimicked the coattails of his jacket. Then he gave a cough or two—

“Young gentlemen, today I wish to draw your attention to the biological world. “The variety of biological forms is truly diverse and varied, I must say—elephants are larger than fleas, and fleas are smaller than elephants.” “This is precisely the marvel of creation—and if fleas were to grow larger than elephants, what phenomena might occur? “If such a gigantic animal were to crawl around our backs at night…”

At this point, Yoshi said to stop already and return the wig. And then, as Taro was about to step down from the podium, “He’s here! He’s here!” And everyone began to make a commotion. Taro immediately threw the wig into the stove and burned it up. And just as he was about to close the lid—or perhaps not—the door opened and the principal appeared. Because his head was a medicine tin, he wore a face that seemed to be apologizing for being unrecognizable.

Taro was immediately taken to the principal’s office. He was subjected to all manner of questioning, but Taro wouldn’t say whether it had festered or ruptured. In the midst of this, the principal started sneezing. “Just what—Hak-shun!—do you think you’re coming to school—Hek-shun!—for? Look here, I’ve caught a cold because of you!” “Ha-achoo!”

Today, school was closed. The principal was sleeping. Apparently, he’d caught a cold head to toe. Even without that, it’s hardly possible for the principal of a school to conduct lessons while wearing an ostrich egg. Because they sent a telegram to town last night, a new wig was supposed to arrive today. Taro would surely be expelled. He was already prepared. Truly, Taro had bad luck.

A letter came from home. Seemingly unaware of anything, they were lavishly praising me. That previous letter was just a clean copy of my school essay that I'd submitted. As if I could write something that clever! "The teacher and his wife cherish me as if I were their own child"—like I'd ever say such a thing. But at home, they seemed to believe it truly came from my own mind. "Continue listening well to your teachers," they wrote, "focus on your studies, and since it's cold, take care not to catch a chill." They added that they were awaiting my return home during the exam vacation. Even without waiting until then, I'd probably be expelled soon anyway.

Taro truly came to detest school. If I stayed too long in a place like this, I wouldn't learn anything decent.

Yoshi-chan taught me the trick of crumpling paper, hitting people on the head with it, and then acting innocent. Sen-chan taught me the technique to pass exams without studying. I learned to steal kumquats from the neighboring house under the pretense of retrieving a ball and mastered feigning headaches whenever arithmetic became unbearable. I don’t want to do such things, but since everyone does them, there’s no helping it. Mother had emphatically instructed me to do everything like everyone else. Yesterday, when I was drawing the teacher’s face during dictation time, my slate was confiscated. Not only was it confiscated, but I was made to stand. After making me stand there, she fashioned a hat out of newspaper and placed it on my head. No matter how much it's meant to set an example, she's taking this humiliation too far. When I said, “Even this is better than that wig,” she flared up like fire in anger. It seems she’s regarded me as her mortal enemy ever since that business with his wig. It’s precisely because I burned it that the principal went and bought that new one, isn’t it? She’s forgotten that favor and just keeps nagging without even understanding why. She's a stupid woman.

Today I went to play in Mr. Ouchi’s room. Mr. Ouchi was a kind person.

“Now then, please come in here. “Please make yourself at home and play as you like,” he said, so Taro suddenly struck a fierce pose like a roof ornament. It seemed Mr. Ouchi wasn’t very happy. When Taro entered, he had been shedding tears. He had probably been crying. Or perhaps he’d been eating those globe-shaped candies from Eitaro. Speaking of eating, the teacher was someone who often snacked. It’s because she ate nonstop like that that she’d gotten so fat, he supposed.

Mr. Ouchi was the sort of person who asked about all sorts of things. Since he especially asked about my sisters, I told him all sorts of bad things about them. “So your eldest sister will be holding her wedding soon, then?” “Yes, that’s correct.” “Even Sister Haruko will get married once Dr. Morikawa gets a few more patients.” “But Mr. Ouchi, why don’t you hold a wedding?” “They all say you’re an old maid.” Mr. Ouchi laughed with an awkward “Ohoho.” “And well, you do say such amusing things, Taro,” he deflected. I received a handful of sweet bean candy and returned.

Today there was a literary society meeting at school. Thanks to that meeting, my expulsion was finally decided. Tomorrow I can go home on the first train. A crowd of villagers came to observe. The principal wore a frock coat and chaired the event. The teacher played her treasured violin. Mr. Ouchi tended to the students. The students took turns reading compositions, delivering speeches, and reciting poetry from memory. Taro gave a speech.

Three days earlier, the teacher had prepared a draft of the speech for him. The title was "School".

“School!”

“The most enjoyable part of one’s life must be school days.” “Parents who can send their children to school must give thanks to God.” “How must the poor children playing in the streets envy students? We students must study while we are young.” “If we do not make good use of the privilege our parents have gone to the trouble of giving us, it amounts to nothing.” “The greatness of our country is due to education.” “Among these, boarding schools that prepare students for university form the foundation of our nation.”

That was all there was. However, I rewrote it exactly as I saw fit. When I stepped up to the podium and bowed, something felt strange, but since Mr. Ouchi standing over there gave me a look urging me to start immediately, I raised my voice and spoke as follows.

“School! School is a dreadful place! Parents who send their children there without knowing anything are pitiable—truly pitiable! The children of poor folks playing in the streets are better off; they can play from morning till night and be happy! Especially dormitory life—I can’t approve of it! They make us eat nothing but tofu! But there’s something even worse than that: namely, I get punished every other day! And yet I don’t do anything wrong at all! If I grow up and become a teacher, I won’t do spiteful things like she does! School really is an awful place!”

Everyone clapped their hands. The principal and the teacher were laughing approvingly. Taro felt strangely happy. After the meeting ended, because the teacher said "Just a moment," Taro followed along. Saying, "I’ll give you a reward for your speech, so come into this room," she was smirking. Though it was a smirk, since she was at least smiling, Taro figured it couldn’t be anything serious and went in. Apparently, Taro was to do arithmetic here until dinnertime. After assigning about ten problems, the teacher locked it and left.

Taro grew sick of it after working through about a problem and a half. If you want to know where the clock hands overlap between three and four, just spin the clock around and look—it’s not something you need to bother asking me about. It might seem impressive if someone knew how long it takes for light to travel from the sun to Earth, but worrying about whether a flying ember might start a fire without even knowing where it landed was just plain foolish. Even Taro could tell where the clock hands pointed, but with his hands stiff as claws from the cold and unable to hold the slate pencil, there was nothing to be done.

When he looked at the stove, two embers like cat’s eyes glowed within the ashes. Taro promptly tore up a book that was on the desk and tried feeding it into the stove. It refused to catch fire. It smoldered, stinging his eyes. Taro got angry and kept stoking it furiously. The more he stoked, the more he coughed uncontrollably. In the midst of this, he realized he’d messed up. Yesterday, since Taro had nothing to do, he stuffed soil into this stove’s chimney and left it. Thinking it would smolder like this, he tried to put it out, but it wouldn’t extinguish easily. Taro choked and, because it was too painful, let out a loud voice.

Everyone came rushing over, but since the teacher had left the lock engaged and gone shopping, there was no way to open it. I raised my voice even louder and shouted, “Fire! Fire! Help me!” “If the window would open, I would’ve jumped down long ago, but it’s frozen shut and won’t budge.” Taro thought he might really die, so he raised his voice even louder. Then,

“Taro! Taro! Break the window glass and get out.” “Don’t worry about it—just break it quickly!”

Mr. Ouchi’s voice calling out could be heard. Taro swung the chair around, smashed every last windowpane into fragments, then bolted outside. Two glass shards stood embedded in his right palm.

Soon, the principal and his wife returned. Having heard the account from Mr. Ouchi, they promptly summoned Taro.

“Taro.”

The principal put on a stern face. When summoning someone for reprimand, he would always first call out "Taro," then remove his glasses, take out a handkerchief, and begin his lecture while polishing the lenses. "I'll be sending a letter to your father—prepare yourself. It'll take workers a full week to fix this. Wouldn't one broken pane have sufficed for escape? You knew this yet chose violence. And why did you smash the stove?"

Taro remained silent. When being scolded, he always remained silent. Then his wife interjected. “You should go ahead and expel him outright along with sending the letter.” “Even if we collected tuition fees for five students now.” “There’s no telling what he might do next.” “We should just have Mr.Kin take him tomorrow.” “Come now—you should just do it.” “It’s utterly impossible!” The principal acted quite high and mighty but couldn’t hold his head up against her “Hey you.” If she told him something—he’d do most anything. If ordered to go sleep on railroad tracks—he might actually do it. Mr.Ouchi apologized on his behalf but they expelled him anyway. Taro was to be sent off by janitor Mr.Kin on tomorrow’s first train. When I get home—I’ll make a huge racket. Seems I was entirely at fault.

Because it would be troublesome if I got sent into service, I'd make an awful racket. When I asked O-Shima about it, she said that was just a scare tactic, but Father seemed properly furious.

Someone like me should just sit frozen stiff and stay put. The moment I move my body even slightly to do something, it immediately becomes mischief. What a cursed disposition I was born with.

After Taro was gone, the church pastor was replaced. The new pastor was young. He was said to be twenty-seven. A lanky man with glasses and a pale complexion, he seemed fond of sweet confections and young girls. He had been invited for dinner that day. While talking with Sister Hana, he patted my head. How rude. I wasn't a baby. He probably had his eye on Hana, but she believed no man existed in this world except Mr. Shimizu. That day too, I'd taken a letter to Mr. Shimizu. The errand fee was ten sen. Then I brought back Mr. Shimizu's reply. This time it was twenty sen, but he made me promise not to breathe a word about the letters to anyone. Hana was waiting for me in the garden. Unfortunately, Uta was right beside her. Clutching the letter in my pocket, I approached them when Hana—

“Oh， Taro， where have you been？” Hana said． It wasn’t like I went anywhere special． “Ah， it’s getting cold．” “Shall we go inside？”

Hana said again. At the entrance, Hana had Uta go ahead first and took the letter from Taro’s pocket. I was quite astonished by how quick she was. Then, while saying “Oh Sister Uta, there are pine needles on your shoulder,” the two of them went upstairs together. She didn’t even say thank you.

Last night, since I was bored, I decided to surprise O-Shima by going to retrieve Sister Hana’s coat. I thought she might be there and quietly entered, but she wasn’t. Immediately draping it over my head, I thrust my hand into the pocket right where I reached—and found a letter. It was Mr. Shimizu’s letter. This is what it said: “Then let’s set it for nine o’clock tonight. Please wait at the garden gate. It’s nine o’clock. Be sure not to make any mistakes. I will arrange for the carriage from my side.”

I was actually startled—Sister Hana meant to elope with Mr. Shimizu! Nine o'clock? There wasn't any time left! I bolted downstairs and dashed outside—they might've already gotten away!

As Taro crouched behind the neighbor’s rainwater barrel, a carriage slowly approached. When he thought this must be it, his sister came out from the back. She wasn’t wearing a coat nor carrying a bag. She was dressed exactly as she would be at home. While Taro remained distracted by his sister’s appearance, Mr.Shimizu had stepped down from the carriage. The pair exchanged no words. Hana entered first while Mr.Shimizu appeared to follow after her. And when I stood up thinking they must surely have succeeded by now,the carriage began moving.

I immediately returned home. Just as O-Shima had been searching for me, I was immediately forced into my futon. And as I fell asleep, I thought Sister Hana must have gotten quite far by now, and that his horse seemed to be a good one.

However, when I got up this morning and went down to eat breakfast, I was astonished to find Sister Hana sitting composed in her usual seat as though nothing had happened. Then, wondering if the escape had been a dream, I felt in my pocket and found the letter I’d taken last night brushing against my fingers. Lately, with everything having quieted down, I wasn’t being scolded at all—yet this daily boredom tormented me. Father kept doting on me too. Just yesterday he took me to see a magic show by an illusionist called Sokkyukai Ten'ichi.

Tonight, Takeko-san and two female students came to visit. They were apparently Sister Uta’s school friends.

I thought I’d show everyone some magic tricks, so I brought about ten eggs from the kitchen. There was one man who had come with Takeko-san. He was a Westernized dandy who had returned from abroad, with his hair neatly parted like a milkman’s. I liked his hairstyle, but I also took a fancy to this man’s hat. It was low-crowned, the fashionable style these days. I remembered the magician had used exactly this kind of hat. So I removed the hat and put an egg inside it. And I brought out a small table to the corner of the parlor and arranged various props on it. If I were wearing a frock coat with this setup, I would make a splendid magician.

“Ladies and gentlemen—everyone, I shall now present an amusing magic show. “Admission is ten sen per person.” Everyone laughed. The Hi-kara Man stood up and walked toward Taro. I worried that the hat had been discovered, but that wasn’t the case. Smiling broadly, he took out a purse and gave Taro a fifty-sen silver coin. And then, “Young master, since today’s the opening day, there should be a discount—so that’ll cover six people.” he returned to his seat, laughing. Sister Uta was also laughing. I had been worried from the start that Sister Uta wouldn’t try to stop me. If Sister Uta had stopped me, such a thing wouldn’t have happened.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the first act I shall present is the handkerchief trick.” “Anyone will do—I humbly request to borrow a handkerchief.” And Taro mimicked Ten'ichi’s disciple to the letter. Then the dandy lent him a silk handkerchief. “I humbly have one more request. “This time, it concerns matches.” “Does anyone here have matches?” The dandy lent him wax matches. “Now then, I shall now set fire to this handkerchief and burn it up completely. “I will put those burnt ashes into this drawer, and when I clap three times, it will return to its former state.” “If it goes successfully, I kindly ask for your applause.”

Then Takeko-san clapped her hands. The Hi-kara Man remained silent. I began burning the handkerchief without concern for details, but perhaps because there was too much perfume on it, it burned poorly. But anyway—since it had become about half-burned—I threw it into the desk drawer. “When I clap three times, the handkerchief will return to its former state.”

I immediately thought to clap my hands, but since smoke was still rising, I hesitated. But staying silent felt awkward, “Should this endeavor prove successful, I humbly request your applause.” Having said this, I checked again—the handkerchief remained stubbornly intact. Though sensing failure was imminent, the silence grew unbearable, so I tried once more: “If fortune favors us, kindly show your appreciation through clapping.” I repeated. Yet no amount of incantations worked. The handkerchief lay defiantly scorched. Then came the muffled snickers. When Takeko-san initiated polite applause, others followed suit. Even the Hi-kara Man offered reluctant claps. My cheeks burned with genuine humiliation.

“The handkerchief didn’t burn properly just now, so it didn’t go well. Instead, I shall now present the egg trick.” I thought to take an egg out of the hat and reached inside, only to be shocked. Because I had put teacups and bowls inside together, making them clatter, they were all broken. As I was in a fix, thinking I couldn’t perform any magic like this, Sister Uta came walking toward me.

“Taro, you—whose hat is that?” “His…”

When I looked toward the Hi-kara Man, he was already standing right beside me. Since there was no other way, I laid out both the eggs and bowls on the desk and handed the hat back to Hi-kara. When he took it, the Hi-kara Man’s face stretched three feet long. Since he looked about ready to bite my head off, I ran away as fast as my legs could carry me.

Sister Uta must have been quite troubled. More than that, his Hi-kara Man must have been even more troubled. No matter how late at night it was, if he was wearing a frock coat and didn’t have his hat on, he probably couldn’t even ride the train. Today, I was worried sick that I might get scolded for last night’s incident. But Father and Mother didn’t say a word. Apparently, Sister Uta was severely scolded instead of me. They probably won’t scold me anymore. They might be planning not to scold me but suddenly send me off into service. Whenever Sister Uta saw my face, she did nothing but glare at me with cold eyes. I won’t go out to mail letters or buy chocolates anymore, so fine by me.

Tonight my tongue hurt unbearably. At dinner, I drank nothing but hot water. When I was outside in the afternoon playing magic tricks again, Rokko and I got into a fight. When I said I’d show them by swallowing a sword, that bastard Rokko mocked me, saying “As if you could do something like that!”

Taro got angry, so

“Of course I can! What’d you think I’d do if I couldn’t?” “Go on—bring the sword here! I’ll swallow it and show you!” “Alright then, I’ll go get it!” “Bring it! Right now!”

“Alright.”

Then Tadakō, siding with them, joined forces with Rokko, “Swallow this knife! If you can swallow a sword, you should be able to swallow a knife!”

he had to go and say something unnecessary. I found it mortifying to lose to such fellows, so “Of course I will! I’ll swallow it and show you!”

With that, I snatched Tadakō’s knife. Up to this point, things had gone well, but Tadakō’s happened to be a sailor knife—if it had been small, there would have been no issue, but sailor knives are large, which posed a problem. As soon as I put it in my mouth, I couldn’t move it. When I finally threw down the knife and spat out bloody spittle with a splutter, the two of them jeered “Serves you right!” and ran off. And after getting some distance away, they sneered, “Ain’t my fault! Blame the Three-Year Crow!” They’re such cowards.

Today, Sister Hana was scolded by Father and Mother in the morning, and in the afternoon, I was scolded by Sister Hana. The world seems to operate on an endless chain of scoldings passed down from above. Since there was no one left to scold me, I gave Pochi’s head a good hard whack. When Mother mended the tear in my clothes, Mr. Shimizu’s letter came out. This was the reason Sister Hana was summoned, and the fact that I had stolen Sister’s letter was why Sister Hana got angry at me. My whacking Pochi had no meaning behind it. It was simply because Pochi happened to be there.

It seemed Sister Hana would soon hold her wedding with Mr. Shimizu. They said if that happened, then I could go along too. And they assigned me a good room and promised to buy me anything I wanted. They were even going to take me on their honeymoon trip, apparently. So I decided to keep quiet. I would deliver letters three or even four times a day. And I resolved to keep it a secret from Mr. Shimizu that Sister was dyeing her hair.

Dr. Morikawa and Sister Haru were getting married very soon too, I heard. Marriage sure seemed to be all the rage. And since Sister Uta would also be settled this year, O-Shima said Father was really something else.

I was thinking of making a kite but was struggling without any ribs when the old cooper came by. When I asked for a little bamboo, he said he'd give me as much as I wanted. However, the cooper's bamboo was all bark and no core, so even if I took it, it couldn't be used for kite ribs. Then he said he'd bring higher-quality ones tomorrow, but this old cooper was a drunkard who did nothing but spout nonsense, so there was no relying on him.

“Old Cooper! That bath bucket you fixed has already started leaking! You did shoddy work while drunk again!” O-Shima confronted him sharply.

“Ah, a little water leakin’ ain’t no trouble. Long as folks ain’t leakin’, there ain’t no big trouble.”

With that composed reply, the old man went to inspect the bath area. Since I didn't want them to find the hole I'd drilled with an awl, I immediately went upstairs and started reading a book.

This morning, Taro got up early and made a kite. Since I couldn’t get any bamboo no matter what, I destroyed Father’s silk-covered Western-style umbrella and took two whalebone ribs. Thinking it would be wasteful to just throw away the silk too, I used it for the tail.

After finishing breakfast, I took the kite and went out. My kite was bigger than everyone else’s, but apparently the bridle was poorly balanced, leaving it spinning helplessly out of control. Some cheeky brat said, "Is this kid trying to fly a kite or drag it around?" First, it fell on the postman’s head, and next, it fell on the horse’s nose. The postman had just gotten angry, so that was manageable, but the horse didn't understand a thing and started thrashing about in panic. Poor thing, the rider was thrown off and fainted. He might very well die as he is, but he’ll probably come around. If he revives, he ought to take care not to ride his horse through areas where kites are being flown from now on.

Since we were forbidden from flying kites on public streets anymore, we went to the vacant lot behind the church. For a while things went smoothly, but eventually my kite got tangled in a tree. No matter how hard we pulled, it wouldn't come loose. Though I'm good at climbing trees, Mother would scold me if I did it myself, so I asked Tadakō. Tadakō was hesitant at first, but when I said, "You're a man, aren't you?" he reluctantly climbed up and retrieved it. I'd asked him to get the kite down, but I never wanted him to fall and sprain his ankle. What a complete nuisance. Going out of his way to cause trouble. I'd promised ten sen if he retrieved it, but since I'm not paying anymore, that's just fine.

Dr. Morikawa stopped by the house and said Tadakō next door was in bad shape—if things worsened, he might end up lame. Taro tried to visit out of pity, but Tadakō’s mother apparently couldn’t stand the sight of him. She was so angry that she vowed to move somewhere safer once Tadakō’s leg healed. Mother had been at the neighbors’ until evening but went to bed early. They said she’d developed a headache and felt unwell. It seemed strange—Tadakō was the one who’d hurt his leg, yet here was Mother nursing a headache.

Since I had been told not to go outside all day today, I was quietly reading a book. Then Father suddenly came upstairs, grabbed me by the scruff of my neck, took me to the storehouse, and locked it from the outside. While I was quietly studying, he did something so cruel.

When O-Shima brought lunch, I asked and found out I was to stay in the storehouse until Tadakō recovered. When would Tadakō ever recover? They must have been planning to keep me locked up here forever, which meant Tadakō’s injury would probably never heal. Having such a terrible friend was truly troublesome.

Today, the kite flew splendidly well. Because the wind was strong, I had let out all the string, so if I wasn’t careful, I might get dragged along. Even if it doesn’t fly, it’s a pain, but when it flies this well, holding onto it becomes even more of a pain.

I hadn't gone back for lunch, so I was starving. Still, it would be a shame to bring down something flying so tautly. If only Tadakō had been here at a time like this, but there was no helping it. I thought about tying it to a tree or something and leaving it there so I could go home, and scanned my surroundings.

A cute five or six-year-old girl was intently watching Taro’s kite. Where was she from? Was she related to that old man at the church? Now that he thought about it, this child had really ended up in a bad spot. Taro tricked her into letting him wind the kite string around her chest. Then he said “Stay right here by this tree until I get back,” and went home. When he returned to the back of the church after getting biscuits from O-Shima，the girl was nowhere to be seen．But when he looked up at the sky，the kite still flew just as before．Finding this odd，Taro followed the string’s trail around to the church’s front entrance—only to freeze in shock．The string had tangled around its tower，leaving her dangling toward its roof．If snapped，she would certainly fall onto paving stones below．If unraveled，she might ascend straight to heaven．Taro raised his voice and called for help．

The old woman from the church rushed out and collapsed in shock. Later, when I asked about it, I heard this old woman had thought the Kingdom of Heaven had finally come when she saw the child dangling midair. Amidst this commotion, five or six people came running over. The child was saved unharmed, but Taro’s kite remained flying up there. Since reaching the tower’s peak to retrieve it proved impossible, they had no choice but to abandon it. By now it might have climbed all the way to heaven while dragging that tower along. In any case, his kite had done something truly regrettable.

Today was Sunday, and he went to church with Sister Uta. Thinking that if I listened to the pastor’s sermon I might become a quietly obedient good boy, I told Mother so, and she was overjoyed. However, since Mother said she had guests today, it ended up that Sister Uta would be taking me instead.

The pastor gave a ridiculously long sermon. I ended up getting sleepy. Even some adults had dozed off. Even if someone thought it would be better to stop now，he wasn’t the sort of man to understand people’s inner thoughts，so he kept going unperturbed. “As we approach the conclusion…” he said，so I thought it was finally safe，but he made me rejoice in vain. He simply wouldn’t stop. Saying things like “Please，everyone…” and restarted his spiel from the beginning with “Firstly…”. This was outright warfare now. Thinking “Let him do as he pleases，” I crouched down intending to pick up the dropped hymnbook，and the toy pistol in my pocket fell out. If it had just fallen，that would’ve been fine—but it went off with a crack，so I was really in trouble. Everyone turned to look at me with frightening expressions. Sister Uta turned bright red and said，“Stay still!” I felt so embarrassed I wanted to vanish into my own pocket.

I wanted to pick up the pistol, but since Sister Uta was keeping watch, I couldn’t reach for it. But then again, having both hands on my knees like a sumo wrestler looked ridiculous, so I stuffed them into my trouser pockets. There was something. Ah—this must be the automatic music player I’d received from a guest last night—it had already started playing "Hitotsu Toya."* I could do nothing. No matter how hard I squeezed it, it kept playing "Decorate with Pine Boughs"—decorate with pine boughs, decorate with pine boughs.*

Sister Uta pulled Taro and took him outside. But by the time they got outside，it had already fallen silent. It was a mean-spirited toy.

“Taro, you’re utterly hopeless.”

Sister Uta made a face like she was about to cry. Even I was truly at a loss. Why do I have such terrible luck? On the rare occasions when I do make the effort to go to church, something happens that makes it impossible for me to ever show my face there again. And everyone goes on saying that child is no good, no good. There’s no telling how far this cursed disposition of mine will go. With the way things are going, I'll probably end up getting struck by lightning and dying in the end. Even if I break my back trying to stay quiet, it can’t be helped with luck this bad.

The uncle from Osaka had been staying at our house lately. This uncle was already quite elderly. And he was an odd person. He didn't have a single strand of hair on his head. Even worse than the principal’s. But you shouldn’t laugh—Uncle was a wealthy bachelor, and if he took a liking to me, he might leave me his fortune, or so I’d heard. The "might" left me uneasy, but I thought it was better than having no prospect at all. I had been intending to behave quietly from then on anyway, so this was perfect timing.

Uncle was deaf. Deaf he might be, but he was deaf with money. Just talking wouldn't get through. Even if someone called him a fool to his face, he'd just keep laughing. He'd press something like an ear trumpet against his head - you had to shout or he couldn't hear a thing. When our teacher explained ears to us, he'd said there was a drum inside called an eardrum that let you hear sounds when struck. By that logic, Uncle must've been missing his drum. No drum meant making do with a trumpet.

I decided to go see how Uncle was doing. Uncle looked at Taro through his glasses,

“How about it, sport?”

he said. Calling me 'Bonbon' is ridiculous. Just call me Bō or Tarō. It’s not like I’m a clock! I borrowed the ear trumpet and shouted into Uncle’s ear like this. “Uncle, are you stingy?” Because my voice was too loud, Uncle was startled. “You don’t have to shout so loud—I can hear just fine.” “Uncle, are you a miser?” “What’s that?”

“Sister Uta said this, you know—she said Uncle is terribly stingy, and that you can’t be reasoned with even if boiled or roasted. Is that really true?” “What? What’re you on about saying such things? You’re a terrible one. In that case, I brought a souvenir, but I won’t give it to you. You’re a truly terrible one.” “Uncle, there’s something I want to buy—could you give me a little money?” Uncle didn’t respond, merely making his nose sniff repeatedly. And he stared at my face so intently it could bore holes through it. He seemed to think of me as some kind of bug under a microscope.

Thinking this had angered him, I now tried to console him by speaking thus.

“But you see, Uncle. Mother said it’s better that you’re stingy. The more miserly you are, the more money you’ll save up—so in the end, that’s actually better, she said.”

But Uncle remained angry. No matter how much I comforted or coaxed him, he remained unreasonable, which was troubling. It was like stroking a cat’s back against the grain—the more I tried to soothe him, the fussier he became—so I gave up and left.

When I returned after playing around a bit, Mother and Sister Uta caught me and asked all sorts of questions. Of course, I gave a noncommittal reply.

“You must never oppose Uncle. He’s always been an oddball, but now that he’s senile and gone simple-minded, he takes offense at everything. You’d better not go there anymore. Since he’s resting now, you should go play outside—when he wakes up, he’ll start making a fuss again.”

Mother said. So Taro listened to his mother and went outside. For a while, he watched the laborers repairing the road, but suddenly he wanted to see Uncle’s face. When he wondered what kind of face someone with a face like that would make when asleep, the laborers’ quarrel stopped being interesting.

I promptly turned back. Because getting scolded would be troublesome, I circled around to the garden and peeked through the window. On the windowsill lay a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. They were Uncle’s. I absentmindedly tried putting them on, but everything went blurry. As I was putting them on and taking them off, Pochi came running up. I wondered what kind of face it’d make if I made the dog wear glasses, so I put them on it. They didn’t suit it at all. Then Pochi saw the neighbor's cat and chased after it. I followed along, but Pochi slipped through the fence into the neighbor’s garden. Worried, I blew my whistle repeatedly. It came back right away but was no longer wearing the glasses. It probably dropped them on the way back. Even though I wanted to go retrieve them, ever since I made Chuko cry the other day, I heard the neighbor had loaded his pistol with bullets and was waiting, so there was no way I could go. Dogs are such a nuisance. It thinks it can get everything for free. It doesn’t know the meaning of wastefulness—in the end, the gold-rimmed glasses were lost.

Uncle was sleeping soundly, completely unaware of all this. He was sleeping very peacefully. Of course, no one sleeps as if they’re waging war. His mouth was open. His throat was making a sound like a steam train gradually chugging along. His head was carefully wrapped in a red banana-patterned handkerchief. The ceremonial cord wasn’t attached. The thought of whether my fishing rod could reach that far was, in itself, an irresistible temptation. And that very act of the fishing rod reaching its mark became the cause of an unexpected disaster. Taro likened Uncle to an anglerfish hung at a fishmonger’s and, half-jokingly intending to fish for him, lowered the hook near his mouth. Since it was a job done from a distance, it was bound to go wrong anyway. The hook brushed against his nose, rested on his cheek, but eventually slipped mistakenly into his mouth. At that moment, Uncle should have stopped, but he sneezed and tightly closed his mouth instead. Taro gave an extremely light pull, but Uncle let out a sound like a dog whose tail had been stepped on. Afraid someone might come, he hastily yanked with all his might—and Uncle tumbled off the chair. A scream loud enough to echo through the entire house rang out. Taro threw down the fishing rod and hid in the storeroom.

After being confined in the storehouse for three days, Taro was finally forgiven today. Uncle was still asleep. I was entirely in the wrong. I genuinely felt terrible about it. I asked O-Shima to go retrieve the glasses from the neighbor’s garden. The frame remained intact, but apparently the lens couldn’t be found. Since there was no other way, I broke Sister Haru’s glasses and fitted the lens into Uncle’s frame. From now on, I resolved to make not a single sound.

Uncle’s condition improved daily, and today he rose from bed. Uncle was conversing with Father. Since Uncle was said to be furious with me, I couldn’t go meet him. Taro was listening to the conversation at the doorway.

“They must be fogged up. Let me see—shall I wipe them for you?”

This was Father’s voice.

“No, I just wiped them.” “Because of that brat, I’ve even gone and hurt my eyes.” “Up until now, these glasses fit my eyes perfectly, but…”

“Can you see now?” “I’ve gone and can’t see a blessed thing anymore.” Taro found it amusing but kept listening patiently. The two remained silent for a time.

“I’ve ruined my health, gone and lost my eyesight too—all just from comin’ here for a short spell. My side’s suffered a tremendous loss.” “And you lot’ve suffered a loss o’ tens o’ thousands o’ yen or some such.”

With that, Uncle laughed. Father remained silent.

“With that kind of disposition, he’ll never amount to anything decent. “Letting him have money will only make matters worse. “You’d better mind yourself too.”

I was genuinely regretful. I truly let a big fish get away.

We staged mock performances for fun at Tadakatsu’s family stable. By charging five sen per person admission, we earned sixty-five sen profit. Ten boys and three girls came in. The porters got in free. This money was meant to be donated to the Volunteer Fleet. Tadakatsu became a monkey, Rokukō became a bear, and I became a monster. There were various other amusements too.

I first went to the barber and had my head shaved into a crew cut, then had Tadakatsu paint my face and hands with red ink. And I stuffed my cheeks with Uncle’s dentures. When I looked in the mirror, my face was so terrifying I thought it couldn’t be me. The gold teeth glinted. To make matters worse, when I went to get a drink of water, I ended up dropping the dentures into the well. Until a replacement could be made, Uncle might starve to death.

Rokko has a donkey. I dressed up this donkey as an elephant calf and performed stunts on top of it. When we put Tadakatsu’s mother’s shawl on it, it looked somewhat like an elephant, but without tusks, it was utterly unconvincing. So thinking it might serve some purpose, I made it hold Uncle’s trumpet I’d brought over in its mouth. But since donkeys lack any sense, it ended up biting through and shattering the trumpet.

Under these circumstances, Uncle moved to a hotel starting today. It’s said he declared he no longer considers that brat his nephew or anything of the sort. I haven’t considered that miser an uncle for ages anyway. However, according to what O-Shima mentioned privately, it seems I suffered a tremendous loss because of the mischief I’d done. Uncle had decided to donate all of the property he had intended to leave to me to an old people's home. Old people are bound to favor their own kind. I had braced myself for things to turn out roughly like this.

I don't need any inheritance anyway. I am not the least bit troubled.

Father is rich. Everyone says so.

As long as I can spend every day doing exactly as I please, I’ve got nothing to complain about. If only everyone wouldn’t scold me so much, that’d be ideal—but there’s no helping it. Tadakatsu next door gets scolded a lot too.

However let me make this clear—I didn't play those pranks on Uncle with any ill intent. As for sticking those dried potato vines on his bald head with wax—that wasn't done with any particular aim of giving him burns either. I just wanted to see if it'd look like a proper buzzcut. Even when one shoe went missing—why he'd just stashed it away as precautionary storage for when raising fancy mice.

Uta and O-Shima found Uncle such a handful to care for that it wore them out—they complained even brief conversations left them hoarse. I actually liked talking with Uncle. Whenever he’d bellow questions through his trumpet like making telephone calls, I’d tell him everything. The old codger had no business prying into people’s affairs like that anyway. If anyone asked Uta about me, she’d have no choice but to say I was some meddlesome geezer who ruined your voice just by chatting—best avoided altogether. Then there was Father grumbling how every letter from Uncle meant fresh headaches brewing, while Mother argued his deafness at least saved us from errands during visits—better than dealing with Aunt. Though he looked respectable now, they said he’d been an uncontrollable libertine in his youth who probably planned to haul his money straight to hell. But since Uncle dug into every last detail like an archaeologist, I had to spill it all truthfully. Lies being theft’s gateway drug—now that’s real trouble.

Father had invited Mr. Kambo at noon. He'd been discussing with Mother about making this man buy some land in Nantoka Town. Today the chef was being ridiculously mean-spirited. This man was usually honest, but he had a terrible habit—whenever there was something special served, his nature turned wicked. Someone like me wasn't even allowed near. I didn't want anything at all, but when the other side acted so suspiciously like that, it made me want to snatch something from them too. When you're told "You're something else," somehow you start feeling like you really are something else. When someone eyed me like I was about to snatch something, I started feeling like maybe I should take one after all. Today's incident was ultimately the chef's fault.

Snatching a handful of strawberries, I hid under the dining table. With the tablecloth hung down to the floor, there was no fear of being discovered. While I was devouring the strawberries in peace, Father and Mother brought Mr. and Mrs. Kambo in and immediately took their seats. Mr. Kambo offered thanks, and the four began drinking soup. I was in trouble. I should have escaped when everyone first opened the door, but now that things had come to this, I couldn’t move.

The four of them engaged in various conversations while clattering their knives and forks. They were an ill-mannered lot. Mother was always saying one shouldn't make too much noise. I sometimes scratched at Mr. Kambo’s shoes. Every time I did that, Mr. Kambo would twitch his body, which was amusing.

“Since it’s already clear that the train line will be completed, purchasing it now would be no loss even if you don’t reside there yourself.” If one were to sell a property that could be bought and kept without loss, there would indeed be a loss. Father seemed intent on skillfully deceiving Mr. Kambo. I also agreed.

“I really like the property, but I must say the neighborhood is rather rowdy. “Is there running water?” As for the water supply, I couldn’t say—but I gave the shoe a good pinch.

“The water supply has reached as far as the neighboring house. And the train access is indeed most convenient.”

Father stuck to his train argument. I gave another pinch.

“Do you keep a dog at your house?” “A dog? Yes, we have one. “Do you like dogs?” “No, I’ve come to terribly dislike dogs—though until recently, that wasn’t the case. But after having my fortune read somewhere, I was told you bear a physiognomy indicating dog-related misfortunes. Since then, I’ve grown to detest them entirely. “Rabies is a dreadful disease, you know.” I was very nearly about to laugh.

“Does your dog not enter the formal rooms?”

Now it was Mrs. Kambo’s turn. “Yes, he’s an extremely well-behaved dog—he never comes into the house.”

Are they discussing the property or studying dogs? I couldn't tell at all. After counting to ten in my head—if he wouldn't buy at eighteen yen per tsubo—I'd resolved to pinch Mr. Kambo's shin.

“I do like the property…”

It was already clear he liked the property. This bastard really wasn't going to buy it after all. I gave him a good hard pinch.

Mr. Kambo tumbled from his chair. "Call a doctor! Call a doctor!" he bellowed. Even when Father tried explaining it was just the household mischief-maker's doing, he kept stubbornly insisting that without immediate treatment he'd get rabies—that once you caught rabies, you turned obstinate. Truly, elders are unreasonable. In the end, both left furious without finishing their meal.

Just what did Sister Uta think of me, I wondered. My ears weren’t made to be pulled. Because she was under the delusion that her face was made for applying powder, she kept pulling my ears at every little thing. What was wrong with Ms. Tsutako being a chatterbox? It wasn’t like I told any lies. If they’d just told me upfront not to breathe a word about the marriage arrangement to Ms. Tsutako, even I would’ve shown some restraint. Suddenly coming over and saying “Taro, you’re going too far”—what if my ear got torn off? Wouldn’t it be unsightly if I ended up like a bird or a fish?

A man had recently begun visiting Sister Uta. His name was Mr. Inoue. He came again last night. When I entered the parlor, they were talking. Wanting to see this man's face clearly, I moved closer and peered at him. Sister Uta then shot me a look that said "Go away." She gave me that look, but knowing she wouldn't say it aloud, I pretended not to notice. I wasn't one to budge over a mere glance.

“How about it, sport?” said Mr. Inoue. “I’m not your sport. I’m a child, you know.” He told me. Then Mr. Inoue burst into uproarious laughter. As his laughing face quivered, something glinted brightly. Because this was strange, I wanted to get a proper look at this man’s face. “Ah! What was that thing that just glinted? Are you wearing a gold tooth like Sister Uta?” “Amusing little fellow, aren’t you?” He didn’t answer my question. And since he didn’t laugh this time, nothing glinted.

“Your face is the funny one.” “What’s wrong? What happened? Your one eye isn’t moving at all, is it?” “Is it glass?”

Then Sister Uta got angry.

“What do you think you’re doing, Taro? How rude! Go away. If you don’t listen, I’ll tell Mother.”

Taro left reluctantly, but since his curiosity wouldn’t let him rest, he went back after a little while. And then, as he stared intently again, Sister Uta— “Taro, go over there and tell Oshima to bring some sweets and a lemon.” “Make sure she brings them right away, okay?”

she said very gently. This time she must be planning to trick me into leaving. Even if she does that, I'll come right back. I don't plan to sleep tonight until I figure out why his eye doesn't move. After giving Oshima the errand, I immediately returned. The more I looked, the stranger it seemed. The right eye blinked, but the left one never moved. Like a fish's eye, it always remained open. I tried mimicking him by blinking with just one eye too, but it didn't work well at all. Sister Uta must have been at her wit's end, for she concocted some errand, stepped out briefly only to return immediately,

“Taro. Mother is calling for you, so go over there.” she said. So Taro was disappointed, but when he went to where his mother was— “Taro, it’s rude to stare so intently at our guest’s face.” “But Mother, what’s wrong with his eye? Why does only one eye move?”

“It’s already nine o’clock. Time for bed.” “It’s time for bed.” I couldn’t care less about bedtime or anything like that. Adults are such selfish creatures.

Nothing is more troublesome than a small child.

The other day, some relatives came to visit Taro’s house. It was a girl named Kiku-chan and her mother. Because of this Kiku-chan, I ended up losing both the telescope and the air gun.

Kiku-chan was still seven or eight years old and a crybaby. If you so much as tugged her hair, she burst into tears immediately. Even if you showed her a knife while threatening to kill her, she cried. She did nothing but cry. Being forced to babysit such a nuisance—with promises of a telescope if I managed it properly—was an impossible deal. After all, they say you can’t win against a crying child and a petty tyrant. Kiku-chan had a doll. It was a large doll that would cry when you pressed its stomach. It must have been crying to imitate its owner. Wondering what kind of mechanism made it cry, Taro cut open its belly to see. The doll stopped crying just like that, but Kiku-chan wailed uncontrollably. Even when he coaxed her by saying he’d tie her up, she kept crying. Even when he threatened to throw her into the river, she kept crying. Finally, Mother heard the commotion and came over to apologize to Kiku-chan. They decided to buy her a new doll with Taro’s savings. Taro had intended to hunt turkeys and was planning to buy an air gun with his own money.

Kiku-chan suggested we play house. But I'd already run out of patience, so I refused, saying it was annoying. Even when I refused, she wouldn't listen—there was nothing to be done. I became the husband and Kiku-chan became the wife. This child acted impertinent for her age. She'd bring my old clothes saying things like "Husband, won't you change your clothes?" or ask "What time will you return tonight?" when I hadn't mentioned going anywhere. Since she was being too bothersome, I suggested we stop playing house and go outside. To my surprise she agreed, so I played with Kiku-chan by the gate.

In the midst of this, Chuko came over,

“Playing with a girl and acting all happy about it, you jerk.”

Chuko sneered.

I was by no means happy about it—I was utterly worn out. As proof of that, I said it would be fine to put this child through any kind of hardship. Chuko also joined in and played along for a while, but in the end, that guy started some mischief. He proposed giving Kiku-chan a baptism and told me to act as the priest. I also agreed, but since she might cry again, I checked her intentions and found she desired baptism. So he and Chuko took her to the river.

Taro wet a handkerchief and poured water over her head three times in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Then Chuko showed just how far his mischief could go. “Just wetting the head won’t save her,” he declared. “Baptist churches make you go fully underwater.” That made sense too. There’d be no point baptizing her properly if she wasn’t truly saved. Though Kiku-chan began wailing, he and Chuko worked together—tying her with an obi sash and dunking her three times in the river.

The problem was her wearing that fancy kimono. And since she wouldn't listen and kept thrashing about, she ended up swallowing even more water. I never asked her to catch a cold, but she's really a hopeless child. That night, Father whipped me mercilessly. Because of Kiku-chan, I couldn't buy the air gun anymore. The telescope deal got canceled too. My back still stung like crazy. What an absolute outrage. And Chuko didn't get scolded one bit. That bastard's got all the luck in the world. I decided right then I'd never play with him again. If any girl ever visits his house, next time I'll beat her to death myself—that'll fix things.

For the past two or three weeks, I hadn't kept up my diary. Even I could be quite useful when busy. Miss Hana and Mr. Shimizu's wedding was finally set for tomorrow. Today I ran errands all over until I felt dizzy. Because I had to go to Mr. Shimizu's place three times alone, my legs turned to sticks. So I had to get up early tomorrow, which was unbearable. Since I'd go to sleep right away, that was fine, but I was actually exhausted. If possible, I wanted to detach just my legs and let them rest.

I woke up early this morning. Since everyone in the house was busy, they pretended not to notice I'd woken up. If I'd had some errand to run, they'd have immediately said something like "Oh, Taro-san." What opportunists. Even O-Shima just said "I'll leave bread and butter here, so have breakfast by yourself - we're too busy to manage anything," then went off somewhere. When my sister's having her wedding, there's no way her brother should be stuck eating nothing but bread and butter for breakfast. I went to the room with the long table and helped myself to all sorts of delicacies. I overturned a sherry bottle and ruined the tablecloth, but luckily nobody saw.

The wedding was to be held at eleven o'clock at the church. The whole house had been completely tidied up, and I had no idea where I was supposed to be. Then O-Shima came out again and helped me change clothes. I inserted a flower into my buttonhole, thrust a new handkerchief into my pouch, held a white glove in my right hand, and stomped my shoes that gleamed like lacquer as I entered the separate room.

Mr. Shimizu had already arrived. He sat down in an armchair, calm and composed. But he was a poor imitation of composure. Even if his appearance was calm, his mind was crawling all over the ceiling, so no matter how much he tried to compose himself, he ended up looking like some twitchy young master. When I went over and greeted him as O-Shima had taught me, he returned the greeting with uncharacteristic politeness. So this guy was finally going to become my brother-in-law.

When the preparations were complete and Miss Hana came downstairs, I thought she looked beautiful. She wore a dazzling white satin dress, her rosy cheeks visible through the white veil as if glowing from within. Miss Haru was also beautiful. Today was her role to assist Miss Hana. Mr. Shimizu was wearing his hat yet searching for it, stepped on Miss Hana's hem and apologized, and tried unsuccessfully to fit his left glove onto his right hand. He was such a careless person. I found it so amusing that I ended up forgetting to bring my own hat.

The pastor was none other than the usual Mr. Naga. I sat behind Mr. Shimizu and pinned a handkerchief to his back, but he remained completely oblivious. He kept up his twitchy act of playing the composed gentleman. Even after the ceremony started, he still bore the handkerchief on his back. I couldn't help pitying whoever must be weighed down by it, but then Dr. Morikawa noticed and removed the thing. Father glared straight at my face.

After returning home, everyone entered the dining room. I was busily eating sweets, but everyone else was just drinking wine. I wondered what had become of the spot where I’d spilled the sherry earlier and went to look, only to find a napkin had been placed there.

“Taro, toast your sister’s health.”

and someone I didn’t recognize poured wine for me. I raised my glass high, “I pray for Sister Hana’s happiness. And if a child is born, I pray that child won’t have their ears boxed or hair pulled like me.” Having said that, I drank it down. My throat burned, and I coughed. After that, I drank quite a bit. I seem to remember drinking five or six glasses.

When Mother woke me up, I was sleeping under the table. The surroundings were enveloped in profound silence. By now, all the guests must have already left.

“Mother, there was a huge earthquake, wasn’t there?”

When I said that, Mother answered, “No.” My body kept swaying uncontrollably, and the table and walls seemed to spin wildly around me. “What about my sisters? Are they waiting for me?” “Your sisters left some time ago,” she replied. “They must be quite far by now.”

Because I drank alcohol, I ended up making a fool of myself.

A few days ago，I started attending school again. I wanted to get good at composition and calligraphy. The teacher praised me，calling me agile. He said if I studied，I might become a minister，but that didn't pan out. But I simply didn't have time to study. Even when I went into the classroom，if I wasn't extremely careful，I ended up in some unexpected trouble. For one thing，I never knew where a wad of chewed-up paper might come flying from. I never knew when a telegram might arrive. There was no telling what mistake might lead the teacher to find the peanuts and apples hidden in my desk. It was because I had to worry about all these things that I ended up with so little time for my books—it was a real problem. But compared to living in a dormitory，it was incomparably better.

Sister Uta said that while I was at school, the house was like heaven. Cheeky brat. When I shot back, "Then where are these angels?" she pointed at her own chest and said there was one right here. She’s making a fool of people. What kind of angel goes around pulling her little brother’s ears? That’s unbearable! Why are women so damned conceited? Since Sister Uta’s group was holding a charity bazaar, I went to help out. The first day was a great success, and I was praised by everyone. I proudly sported a red ribbon bow on my chest. This was the sales clerk’s badge. I sold five-sen cigars for twenty sen. When Sister Uta checked the accounts, she found that sixty cigars had been sold on our side alone.

The second day’s sales were also fairly brisk. After nightfall, all the members drank tea on the second floor of the club. Of course I attended too. I wasn’t a member, but I’d received three raffle tickets. So I didn’t care about the tea or anything—I just kept thinking they should hurry up and start the raffle.

Since I was so bored, I spoke up to the lady seated next to me. “Would you like me to show you something amusing?” “What is it, young man?” Since she asked, I explained it like this. “It’s something black. If you promise not to be startled, I’ll show it to you.” “What is it? I simply must see it!”

Then this time, the young lady sitting to the right interjected. I, thinking it was about time, took out the mouse I had caught earlier from my pocket and placed it on the table. As I was about to let go, the mouse leaped onto the lady. When the lady let out a shriek and brushed it off, this time it ran to the far end of the table. It’s just one little mouse. Crying, screaming, fainting, overturning tables—even going so far as to shatter a lamp in their commotion—is hardly warranted over such a trifle. Sister Haru slightly tore her clothes and Sister Uta burned her hand. They probably won’t speak to me for some time. The others will probably resent me too. But I must say again and again—it’s just one little mouse.

When scolding me, Father always says this.

“I don’t want to scold you, but I have no choice but to do it.” “You have no idea how much more painful it is for me to scold you than for you to be scolded.” “Be a bit more careful so I don’t have to scold you!”

The teacher also said the same thing yesterday.

“I don’t want to punish you.” “But I care for you.” “Because I want to make you into a good person somehow, I have no choice but to punish you.” “It’s the rod of love.”

If you follow this logic, they claim they don’t want to get angry, but they do anyway. Same here. I haven’t done anything worth scolding, yet I get scolded regardless. They should at least try to watch their scolding. Scolding is their job; getting scolded is mine. Even if I watch my step as the one getting scolded, unless the ones doing the scolding quit, this’ll never end. Which came first—the arrow or the target? It’s nonsense for the ones with the bow to keep their arrows ready while just yelling “Be careful! Don’t get shot!”

If I ever become a father, I will never scold my children. If they did something unintentionally, no matter how grave the matter, I would never punish them. I will give them sweets three times a day. And I won’t even let them speak with their sisters or the like.

Yesterday was April 1st. April Fool's Day fell on this date. This was the day when lying and deceiving people became permissible. From New Year's through Christmas, I had anticipated this day more than any other. Last year, still naive about worldly matters, I'd been thoroughly fooled by countless people on April 1st. In retaliation, yesterday I executed all manner of schemes.

I had a plan, so I got up while night still hadn’t broken. The first place I rushed to was the fire watchtower ladder. Adults lack wisdom. Because they misunderstand the world to be made solely for adults, they’ve gone and made this ladder absurdly large. I had quite a struggle climbing it.

The eastern sky faintly brightened. It was so quiet. Only my own breathing sounded recklessly loud. Humans must all still have been asleep. Houses, trees, and streets all looked hazy. They must still have been sleeping too. Even the gas lamps cast a forlorn yellow glow. No one would have thought I was up in such a high place. That guy strutting around in an Inverness coat like something Susanoo-no-Mikoto from Kagura would wear, that fool Tonchiki preening with a collar of idiot-bird feathers—neither of them would ever have dreamed I was about to stage a fake fire. I felt strangely happy.

The fire bell resonated clearly in the stillness. I struck once, then another as the echo faded. After about ten strikes, the world below still lay undisturbed in sleep. They couldn’t all be dead, could they? Still, it was too quiet. Since a single toll hadn’t roused them, I switched to rapid clanging. I battered the bell wildly until at last—somewhere—the faint stir of commotion reached me. Clambering down the ladder, I heard voices rising like cicadas: “Where is it?” “Can you see it?”

The people swarming like ants were all repeating the same things. "When you wake up in the morning, you must always say 'Good morning'," Mother had said. "If you can't do that, you're not human." Looking at this crowd, I figured none of them qualified as proper humans. I headed back home to avoid getting caught. On the road I met Tsuruko-san. She tried talking to me briefly, but I couldn't make out a single word she said. They must've dashed out in such a fire panic that they forgot their false teeth. Then I ran into Mr. Yamada too. Mr. Yamada had newspaper wrapped around his head.

“Where is the fire?” When he asked,

“Right over there.”

I answered. Mr. Yamada ran off without even saying thank you. I started feeling cold too, so I hurried back as fast as I could. At breakfast, Sister Uta gave me a large bun. For her to give me sweets first thing in the morning was unusual. Thinking there must have been a funeral somewhere, I took a bite and froze. It was stuffed with cotton. Just as I realized I'd been tricked, Sister Uta laughed, "April Fool's! Got you good!" Sister Haru laughed too. O-Shima had been laughing from the start. Damn them all!

I left home intending to go to school, but it was too infuriating, so I went to the post office and sent a telegram.

"Haruko is sick. Come at once." Dr. Morikawa would probably come rushing in his car. Of course, even if Haru-san were perfectly healthy, he would still come every other day anyway.

Then I went to the flower shop. This flower shop had just recently moved here and was brand new, so of course they didn't know my face. I took out the business card Mr. Inoue had given me when inviting me to visit, ordered a bundle of high-quality flowers for about five yen, and instructed them to deliver it to Sister Haru. Since I gave them precise directions to the house, there was no way they would get lost.

As I strolled aimlessly toward the school, I ran into Ms. Seino from the Okamotos’. She was probably heading to the girls' school.

Since there was still some time left, I decided to follow her with the intention of playing a prank, but couldn’t figure out how to trick her even a little. But since they say you’ll never become a hero if you abandon something once you’ve resolved to do it, I kept following her anyway. Then, in the middle of this, Ms. Seino dropped her lace handkerchief. I quickly picked it up and called out to her. “Ms. Seino, you dropped your handkerchief.” “Today is April first.” Even after I called out like that, Ms. Seino didn’t so much as turn around.

“I’m serious. “Ms. Seino.” “Look here.” This time she didn’t even reply, just kept stomping away. “Ms. Seino! Ms. Seino!” “You’ll be late for school!”

And Ms. Seino finally ran off. I had no choice but to take the handkerchief.

By now school must have already started late, and since getting scolded for tardiness would be humiliating, I decided to skip class that day and went off to play in the rice fields. The rice fields were far more scenic than school anyway. I sat down on the grass and opened my lunchbox. Today's lunch turned out to be bread when I'd expected a rolled omelet. That explained why it felt so light. Thinking it must contain butter or jam inside, I tore it open only to find sawdust stuffed within. I immediately headed home intending to give O-Shima a good thrashing.

Not wanting to be spotted by everyone, I hurried up to my room. I was considering hiding in the cupboard until three o'clock when O-Shima came in. I suddenly lunged. When fighting a woman, the best approach is to grab her hair. I finally managed to make O-Shima fall down and apologize. And I made her bring biscuits from the kitchen and also made her promise to keep quiet about my return until three o'clock. If I were to eat sawdust and get sick, what exactly do you plan to do about it? There's a limit to mischief.

Sister Haru and Sister Uta both refused to speak to me. Today, Sister Uta went to mail the letters herself. See? It immediately becomes inconvenient like that, doesn't it? She had the nerve to say she no longer considers someone like you a brother. As if I'd ever consider someone like Sister Uta an actual sister! Dr. Morikawa and Father were discussing such things. "He has a sort of illness. It's a kind of illness where he wants to perform mischief." "Even for a doctor, such an illness would be a bit beyond your control, wouldn't it?"

Even a doctor would be dumbfounded to hear that. For someone who’s such a Westernized upstart. “What about hypnotism? I hear it can correct all sorts of habits.” “Well, if applied, it might have some effect—but it won’t take hold. He still lacks the capacity to focus his attention.” He says such impertinent things. “Well, the quickest way would be to cut off his legs so he can’t go outside! Ha ha ha ha!” “Ha ha ha ha!” Haru-san, who was also nearby, seemed to laugh.

Father and Mother were going to visit Sister Hana. Taro, Sister Haru, Sister Uta, O-Shima, and then the servants were keeping watch. Since Mother had specifically asked him to keep things quiet during their absence, Taro promised to properly attend school, return straight home as straight as a fishing rod once his lessons were over, and not cause any trouble for his sisters. If I didn’t cause any particular mischief for the next week, Father was supposed to buy me a forty-yen pony. Rather than receiving ten bicycles, I wanted that one pony of his. “Forty yen is just for looking,” his horse trader had said, and ever since then, I had been dreaming of his horse every night. Even during the day, sometimes people’s faces looked so long.

O-Shima said that if he could just endure a little for about a week, keeping quiet would be no problem at all. But O-Shima was a woman who’d never been a boy herself, so there was no way she could understand whether it was possible or not. As if that would ever work! However, I’d try to keep quiet no matter what. If everything went smoothly, I’d get my hands on that horse of his—how exciting! Then I could ride the horse to school. That way, I’d never skip school. I’d go visit Sister Hana riding the horse too. Starting tomorrow, I’d keep my diary properly every day.

Father and Mother departed this morning. Taro kept fairly quiet all day today. He broke Mother’s mirror, but this was a genuine accident. Taro and Chuko played ball in the room. Because the ball wasn’t bouncing well, he shaved down Sister Haru’s rubber shoes and attached them. Then it bounced so absurdly high that it ended up hitting the mirror. It then bounced back and ended up overturning the perfume bottle.

Mice had built a nest in the ceiling of the alcove. Mother had been very concerned about this. Taro decided to take care of exterminating them while everyone was away and climbed up into the ceiling. The ceiling could easily be entered by crawling along the bathhouse rafters. I had observed and remembered when Mr. Carpenter came once before. Taro removed the mouse nest but misstepped and fell into the alcove. He wasn’t seriously hurt, but he ended up breaking Father’s bonsai. I can just go to the festival and buy a replacement, so it’s fine. I hurt my back a little, so after that, I didn’t do anything. The first day could be considered a success.

In the morning, I stopped by the horse trader’s place and asked him to take good care of his horse. When he said, “Why don’t you take a quick ride?” I threw down my bag and rode all around the area. Running into the teacher on the road was troublesome. Then I played oxen-pretend with the horse trader’s child—he became the ox while I played the ox driver. If the horse trader hadn’t noticed, his kid might’ve pitifully strangled to death. But it wasn’t my fault. They were the ones yanking recklessly. I was just holding tight to my end of the rope.

Since someone said, "You should go to school now," I went to school. I was only three hours late. I returned home at three o'clock, but since playing at home and breaking something would be bad, I went out fishing. I cast my line near the waterwheel that had once failed to gurgle properly but only caught two minnows. Bored, I ate through my provisions—bread, biscuits, waffles. Just as I resolved to head back empty-handed—the float plunged down. Though certain it had snagged on riverweed again—the rod twitched alive—a tug!—a catch!—an eel! To hear me tell it—a crocodile-sized monster! Taro swaggered home victorious.

On the road, an old man from somewhere—

“Young master, did you have any luck fishing?” When asked this, Taro showed him the eel. “Whoa, this is a big one. What a great catch!” the old man said admiringly. Though inwardly swelling with pride, “Oh, it’s nothing special at all.” Taro replied with unnecessary modesty. Taking this polite dismissal as conversation’s end, the old man continued on his way. How regrettable—he should have drawn out more praise.

After dinner, Sister Uta entered the parlor. A teacher from the girls' school came to visit. This teacher, though a man himself, kept visiting Sister Uta frequently. Ever since Mr. Inoue of the glass eye had stopped coming, he began visiting even more often.

As he was about to head up to the second floor after commandeering the jam in the kitchen, a sound like a steam engine exploding erupted in the parlor. Sister Uta sprang out to the entrance like a rubber ball. The teacher was lying collapsed beside the piano. Oshima and the cook came running. Before anyone knew it, Dr. Morikawa had come out and was tending to the teacher. Taro had absolutely no idea what exactly had happened. Sister Uta was still glaring at him with a wax-pale face, trembling. They're going to blame this on me again. Whenever something bad happens, they immediately pin it on me. It's a terrible habit.

When Sister Uta tried to play the piano, there was apparently a large snake on top of it. The coward had gotten startled all by herself and ended up colliding with the teacher who’d been standing nearby. “Why do you do such mischief, Taro?” Dr. Morikawa scolded him. He already considered himself part of the family. “I didn’t do anything.” “You did nothing? Then who put the snake on the piano?”

Taro found it funny. For someone who could diagnose appendicitis, not being able to tell a snake from an eel made him a real dimwit of a man. "He's an eel." "An eel? An eel, you say?" "Hmm, well, even if it is an eel, that's still wrong." "A piano isn't a place to put eels." "If you keep frightening him like that and he falls ill, what will you do?" What's this? He was always saying he just needed a few more patients anyway. Sister Haru also sided with Morikawa and called Taro an incorrigible mischief-maker brat. Even Oshima, since Mother was away, had gone over to their side. And they ended up blaming everything—even mosquitoes—on Taro.

That’s exactly right. It’s my fault anyway, of course. Even if Sister mistakes an eel for a snake, even if someone makes the teacher faint—it’s all my fault, of course. I had truly come to detest being at home anymore. The horse would probably end up being useless anyway. Just to be sure, when I checked with Oshima, apparently it was no good. They said that just yesterday’s crushed bonsai alone had caused a loss of forty or fifty yen. Alright, I won’t stay quiet anymore. Taking care of horses would just be a hassle. It’s better not to have them. In exchange, starting tomorrow, I’ll pull off loads of mischief.

Yesterday, I had gone fishing all day. When I returned home in the evening, Sister Uta was scowling again.

“Where did you go playing around?” “I went to a friend’s place after school.” “You’re telling lies.” “The custodian came asking why you hadn’t come, I’ll have you know.” I had no choice but to remain silent. “You truly are a hopeless child, aren’t you?” If being told “You truly are a hopeless child” is all it takes, then that’s fine by me. Adults just love to trot out their favorite line like that and list off all sorts of crimes. If you consider that all scoldings follow the path leading to “You truly are a hopeless child,” there can’t be much mistake in that.

The evening was a lively affair. Sister Uta had been feeling lonely and invited over a crowd of friends. I had been told to behave and stayed quiet the whole time—but when I stuck my leg out just slightly，Oshima tripped，sending trays and teacups flying. There was no telling how much trouble keeping such a careless woman around would cause.

Around two o'clock in the night, a great commotion broke out. Sister Uta shouted that a burglar had broken in. Taro and Sister Haru also followed and went downstairs. Oshima ran to the neighboring house. “Because he has a pistol, it’s dangerous to go up carelessly.”

“Nah, it’s safe. The constable’s already on his way,” said the neighbor’s student as he gripped his wooden sword and struck a warrior’s pose.

The neighbor’s live-in student gripped his wooden sword and assumed a warrior’s stance. Sister Uta was holding Taro’s hand. I couldn’t tell whether she was holding it or grasping it.

“Which room is it?” “Is this your room?” “No, it’s Sister Uta’s room.” “He was under my bed.”

Then Chuko brought a policeman. The policeman took the neighbor’s student and the cook upstairs. To describe what followed would be utterly ridiculous. The policeman came downstairs carrying Father’s long boots, while the student held Father’s old coat. Since Chuko was laughing so hard, everyone decided it must have been Taro’s mischief again. “Please take this child away—we can’t handle his daily pranks anymore.” Sister Uta pleaded with the policeman like that. Sister Haru and the cook kept bowing apologetically to him. Taro genuinely felt terrible. Just then,

“Mizuno-kun! We’ve been waiting ages! What’s taking so long?” When another policeman entered at that moment, Taro genuinely felt he’d done something terrible. Chuko just kept snickering like an idiot—that insufferable bastard.

So today, the sisters sent a telegram to Father. They simply couldn’t manage house-sitting for a week. Because there was no telling what he might do next, they told him to come home immediately. The horse finally gave out. No matter what I promise, I’ve never actually received anything. Why am I so unlucky?

It was about ten days ago. Chuko had promised to give me a white mouse but hadn't brought it for ages, so I pressed him. Then Chuko said he couldn't do it yet because the mice hadn't given birth. Instead, he made an excuse about giving me anything else in its place. I wanted a white mouse—I didn't want anything else.

“So you’ll do whatever I say?” “Do everything I say, and I’ll let it slide.” “I’ll do anything.” “I’ll do it, but I really don’t wanna grease train tracks like last time.” “Nah, it’s not like that.” “It’s no big deal.”

About ten chō from Taro’s house stood a temple called Tenkaku-ji. Within this temple grounds lies the grave of loyal retainers. At the entrance to the grave stood a large sign reading “Gishi Haka.” It was written in white on a red background. I had long wanted to add a dakuten to the 'ha' character in this “Gishi Haka.” So I immediately ordered Chuko to carry out this task. “Will chalk do?” “Chalk would wear off right away. It’s gotta be paint.” “We don’t have any paint!”

“The paint’s at school,” I said. “They’ve been repainting the fence lately—just bring some from there.” “We don’t have a brush,” Chuko objected. This bastard hated work, always claiming we lacked everything. “I’ve got the brush,” I countered. “Father has a big one.”

At his gate stood a guard. Moreover, there were many worshippers every day. Chuko had been certain he’d be caught, but when evening came, he returned triumphant. Taro was a little surprised at this.

Today’s newspaper had something like this in it.

"About a week ago, when I passed through the grounds of Tenkaku-ji Temple, I found that the sign at the entrance to the Loyal Retainers’ Grave had been altered by some prankster to read ‘Gishi Baka’." "At the time I laughed it off and moved on, but when I passed through today, the gate plaque still read ‘Gishi Baka’ unchanged." "Isn’t this rather irresponsible of the authorities entrusted with managing the capital’s renowned temple?" "(Nosy Meddler)"

What on earth did 'irresponsibility' even mean? He had used paint, so it wasn’t coming off easily anyway! Newspapers tended to recklessly pair those words “authorities” and “irresponsibility” like they were glued together—just like beef goes with scallions, willows with kemari kicks，Christians with Otafuku masks，and Dr．Morikawa with Haru-san．Irresponsible bastards．

Lately, Father was extremely worried. Every day when evening came, he would anxiously wait for the small newspaper to arrive, and upon seeing it, would say [the stocks] had fallen again. Apparently, the stocks had fallen. When I asked what 'kanabō' was, Oshima said it meant stocks. When I then asked what stocks were, even Oshima didn’t know. Oshima was a woman who acted like she knew everything, but in reality, she didn’t know anything. The other day, she had argued with me about how the sun was bigger than the Earth. Even Sister Uta took their side, so I got angry, and it ended up turning into a fight. Then Haru-san said that since Taro might cry, we should just say the Earth was bigger and leave it at that. If Haru-san hadn’t said that, humans would have had to die. How could so many people possibly live on an Earth smaller than the Sun?

Anyway, Father’s been too busy lately to pay any attention to me. So I was truly relieved. Whether I scribbled pranks on hanging scrolls or cut out pictures from magazines, Father pretended not to notice. I think it’d be great if stocks—whether you call them kanabō or kabu—just kept plummeting. Moreover, Haru-san is busy preparing her kimono, so she rarely comes out. Only Sister Uta remained a nuisance. No matter what I broke, she seemed to think that telling Mother would get it fixed. She’s hopelessly foolish.

Taro went to Dr. Morikawa’s house on Haru-san’s errand. No matter how many times I went, Dr. Morikawa never let me touch anything. He said there was dangerous medicine there, so I mustn't touch anything. However, I managed to borrow just the stethoscope and examine the live-in student. His live-in student's chest was making a roaring sound. He was a strange one. In the midst of this, an emergency patient had come up, so Dr. Morikawa left with the live-in student. Because he'd said, "Stay sitting still in this chair until I return," Taro did exactly as told. In the end, he yawned so hard he thought his head might come off.

I thought he’d finally returned, but no such luck. A maid from somewhere had come up to receive medicine. I didn’t know what medicine was needed, but since the red one looked quite pretty, I poured that red liquid for her. There was a splendid leather case, so thinking it must contain jewels, I opened it—only to find a large scalpel. The blade gleamed with a lightning-like radiance in the still-chill air of early spring. It must surely cut well. I should try cutting something. Even if I cut down the cherry tree, it'll be fine as long as I don't tell a lie.

Then several more people arrived. This house sure got a lot of visitors. This time, a girl about ten years old came to have a splinter removed from her hand. I told her to wait because the doctor would be back soon, but since she kept crying in pain, I couldn’t just stand by and started treating her. When the tip of the scalpel slightly pricked her, she jerked away. Even when I told her not to move, there was no reasoning with a child. When I tried to scare her by saying "If you move, I'll cut you," she started crying and squirmed even more. Just as I was telling her to hurry home and have her mother bandage the wound, Dr. Morikawa returned. Taro, who had been at a loss, promptly handed her over to Dr. Morikawa.

Dr. Morikawa made a stern face. When he asked if anyone else had come, I answered that someone had come to get medicine. When he asked what kind of person it was, I said it was someone like that. “Even if you ask where the bottle is, she took it home, so it’s not here.” When he asked, “Then what medicine did you give?” I answered, “Your red one.” “That’s terrible! Mamiya, you hurry and go fetch it!” The live-in student dashed off as if a fire had broken out.

Hana-san came to visit. She was apparently staying over for two nights before going back. If I stayed quiet, there was a promise to take me along. Haru was such an irritating pest. Hana-san—

“Taro-san has finally quieted down, I suppose. “Or is he still up to his old tricks, I wonder?” When she said this, Haru— “Oh yes, he’s become perfectly quiet—so quiet it’s positively troublesome!” she retorted in an oddly singsong tone.

I simply can’t understand why everyone keeps saying I’m bad, bad. Anyone makes mistakes. We aren’t gods, so it’s impossible to be without faults—even the pastor says so. For example, breaking Father’s cane was a mistake. To correct that mistake, I just cut the handle of the umbrella. But I couldn’t mend it properly.

On his way home from school, Taro detoured to Dr. Morikawa’s place. He had thought the doctor would likely be out in the afternoon, and sure enough, when he arrived, he wasn’t there. He had assumed the live-in student would be there anyway, but even that guy was gone. The maid was busily doing laundry. Taro promptly proceeded to the medicine room.

Wondering just how long the tapeworm was, he took it out of the bottle. It wasn’t the centipede of Mount Mikami, but it was certainly long. Even after wrapping it around the room once, there was still some left. The carpet was ruined. While trying to take down the skeleton but struggling as it wouldn’t come loose, a boy from somewhere arrived. He was making a crying face, complaining of a toothache. "I'll fix it right away, so give me a hand," he said, and together they carried the skeleton to the middle of the examination room. And when he asked when his tooth had started hurting, the boy said it had been since yesterday. Taro brought chloroform and told him to smell this bottle. The boy was sniffing it with all his might. Even when told to apply some to a handkerchief, he didn’t respond. He must have gotten rid of his cavity by now. He was sleeping peacefully on the chair. The smell of chloroform was too strong and disagreeable, so Taro came back.

That night, Dr. Morikawa arrived in a rage. When he returned from his patient rounds, he apparently found both the errand boy and maid collapsed. The maid had reportedly fainted upon seeing the skeleton. Naturally—if a skeleton that should have been on the shelf was seated in a chair at the room's center, anyone would have been startled.

Because it would interfere with his business operations, he declared they were absolutely never to send Taro over again and left. Even when Haru-san tried to stop him, he was too angry to listen. Dr. Morikawa left in a huff. Dr. Morikawa was a short-tempered man. Taro was, of course, scolded by everyone. Hana-san would never take Taro along.

Dr. Morikawa canceled his engagement to Haru-san. Since Sister had already mostly finished the wedding preparations, it would be an enormous loss for things to come to this now. By the time they found a new marriage partner from this point on, even their kimonos and hats might have gone out of style. I couldn’t stay silent. Especially since I was the cause of this incident, I couldn’t let it vanish like smoke and mist. The whole thing started with just one cat. There’s no reason to call off an engagement before even getting married over a single cat. No matter what anyone says, Dr. Morikawa is completely in the wrong.

Taro and Chuko tampered with Dr. Morikawa’s electrical equipment. Taro was completely unharmed, but Chuko touched something like an electric current and fainted. Then Dr.Morikawa became angry,saying that if people kept fainting so frequently at a doctor’s house,it would interfere with his business. It was precisely the attitude of Taro interfering with Dr.Morikawa’s professional duties. I am not at all in the wrong. The one at fault is Edison. It’s all because someone had to go and invent such a dangerous machine without anyone even asking-leaving Chuko to suffer in bed for three whole days. To speak of that as though it were my crime is rather missing the mark.

Dr. Morikawa’s medicine room was plagued by mice. In fact，Mamiya，the live-in student，even went so far as to ask for Taro’s esteemed opinion on whether there was any method to exterminate them. He goes around exterminating invisible bacteria，yet he can't even deal with such big mice—what a hopelessly contradictory fellow! Taro borrowed the calico cat from Chuko’s house and went to Dr. Morikawa’s place. This cat was female and had a black nose，so she was good at catching mice. The other day，she had even caught a neighbor’s chicken. Since there was an agreement that he wouldn’t enter the medicine room anymore，Taro stood by the window holding the cat. Inside，there were no people—and no mice either. So he waited for about thirty minutes. Then，when he spotted a mouse，he opened the window and let the cat inside.

Since the mouse had climbed onto the shelf, the cat leaped up and knocked over the medicine bottles. Though the medicine room was left in disarray, it was the cat that ended up worse off. Having been doused with sulfuric acid, it yowled in pain and thrashed about the room. Startled by the racket, Dr. Morikawa opened the medicine room door. The cat launched itself at Dr. Morikawa's face.

The next morning, Dr. Morikawa came to meet Father. His face had been burned by sulfuric acid, so three or four medicated plasters had been applied. His nose was swollen to about twice its normal size. Haru-san burst out laughing. Of course, Taro laughed too. But Sister laughed so hard she nearly rolled over. Dr. Morikawa did not laugh at all. His face must have been too swollen to laugh. After discussing something with Father, he left in a huff.

Everyone in the family scolded Taro. Haru-san had been living without eating anything like a goldfish since that day. Uta-san would hit Taro's ears whenever she got near or touched him. I'm not some plum-blossom basin—hitting me won't make Dr. Morikawa come back! However, this was nothing but a single lamentable mistake. I was just trying to catch the mice—thinking it would be foolish for a doctor’s house to be overrun by pests—an act done purely out of kindness, and certainly not some scheme to condemn Sister Haru to spinsterhood for life. If this is to be called bad, then I don’t think there exists a single good thing in this world.

Today, Sister Haru cried again. Two of Sister Uta’s friends came to visit, and though they ought to have restrained themselves, they prattled on about how Dr. Morikawa had visited Tomiko’s house yesterday and the day before. It seems women can no more resist chattering when they see someone’s face than dolls can. As I ate dinner thinking about Sister Haru, pity welled up in me until only six bowls made it down my throat. I considered going to Dr. Morikawa’s house to settle things, but then it struck me that bastard Mamiya would surely slam the door in my face. Still, after informing O-Shima, I left the house.

I walked quickly because I had a plan. And ten minutes later, I was ringing Miss Tomiko’s doorbell hard enough to break it. The maid came out, saw Taro’s face, and laughed. She’s a rude one. However, today I couldn’t afford to deal with this woman, so I said I had business with Miss Tomiko. “Oh, Taro-san?”

Miss Tomiko looked startled. There was no reason for her to be so shocked. It wasn't like I'd come back from exploring the North Pole. "Is Dr. Morikawa here?" "Well...he hasn't come by yet this evening," she answered evasively. "If he's not here, fine—but tell him I'm taking him to court! What kind of law says you can call off a wedding just because a cat tipped over some medicine bottles? Of course it's Sister's fault for laughing. I'm sorry to say it, but that girl's got hysteria. Hysterics make people laugh at anything. What'll he do if Sister dies? If she keeps not eating anything, she'll definitely die. I'm challenging Dr. Morikawa to a duel. I even brought a knife. And I'll publish everything in the papers—even how he begged me to keep quiet! Even Haru-san..."

Suddenly, someone grabbed Taro from behind and covered his mouth. Before he could even think "Huh?", he was lifted up. “Taro-san, I apologize. Let’s stop this quarrel already.” It was Dr. Morikawa’s voice. Still holding Taro, Dr. Morikawa greeted Tomiko and went outside. “Let’s make peace now, Taro-san. Since I’ll be going now, please take me to Sister.”

Along the way, Dr. Morikawa asked Taro various things. He asked whether Haru-san was truly eating nothing at all, whether her complexion looked poor, whether Father was angry, what Mother had said—along with about a dozen other questions—so Taro grew thoroughly annoyed.

After returning home, I showed Dr. Morikawa to the guest room. Like a child, he listened without a sound to what I said. “Please sit in this chair and place your right hand on the table.” “I’ll go call Sister Haru right away.” Dr. Morikawa, having gotten into the mood to take a photograph, was doing exactly as I had instructed. When he’s normally like this, he’s a decent man. I promptly ran up to Sister Haru’s room. “Sister, Sister, please come downstairs for a moment.”

Sister Haru didn’t even respond. She was staring down.

"Sister, I've got something good here." "The thing you like..." "Just leave me be like this, please. I don't want to see or hear anything right now." "But what if it's the thing you like most?" "You'll regret not going." "I don't want any chocolate." "It isn't something like that. It's alive..." "It's alive..."

There was a knock at the door. Dr. Morikawa could no longer endure waiting and came upstairs. What follows hereafter shall remain unwritten—it’s simply too pitiful. First and foremost, it concerns Dr. Morikawa’s judgment. Be that as it may, Dr. Morikawa had reportedly retracted his retraction, and once his nose healed, he would hold the wedding ceremony with Haru-san and host a concert of harmonious strings or some such. To Sister Uta’s place, the teacher still came to visit. That person was a grammar teacher who had apparently been at Sister Uta’s school for four years by then. Every day it was “past,” “poor affect” he went on about. If he kept saying things like “present” and “poor affect,” it must have gotten awfully tiresome. I had surmised that he came to visit Sister Uta out of boredom, but I simply couldn’t stand that man.

Any ordinary person would naturally stop coming after fainting from his eel. As for Mr. Inoue, ever since I glared at him, even whether he was dead or alive became impossible to tell. Yet this teacher was an utterly incorrigible fool. He still comes unfazed even when his cane gets hidden. Today, I hid the teacher’s new straw hat. Even Father came out and scolded me, but I remained silent like a turtle. By now, Chuko has probably put newborn white mice into his hat. If he were to leave his parents, it was agreed that I would get two.

I caught a cold and was bedridden for about ten days. It wasn't just an ordinary cold—that's why it lasted this long. It was all Chuko's fault. When I went fishing with Chuko, he suggested we go swimming. I didn't know how to swim. So I said, "Anyone who swims from May is an idiot. You'll get sick!" trying to brush him off. But Chuko wouldn't back down. "Whether it's May or June—if you wanna swim, you swim whenever! During wartime, you gotta swim even in freezing water!" he argued. Thinking Chuko's logic made sense, I reluctantly started swimming in the shallows. Chuko came out fine, but I caught a cold. If anyone should've gotten seriously ill, it should've been Chuko—the instigator—yet here I was, the reluctant swimmer, suffering this fate. How utterly ridiculous. The world's full of this kind of twisted reasoning.

Today was finally the wedding day of Sister Haru and Dr. Morikawa. At Sister Hana’s wedding, I had helped in various ways, but this time, having fallen ill, there was nothing to be done. At the very least, I would attend the ceremony and feast. Though my throat felt a bit off, I thought if I endured it I could eat most things—I was lying there thinking this when I heard Dr. Morikawa and Sister Haru talking. “He’s already completely recovered.” “That’s fine, but let’s give him some medicine and keep him bedridden another day.” “He might do who-knows-what—this way is safer.” “As long as a child like that stays in bed, there’ll be no problems.”

“Yes, if you could kindly explain it tactfully, that would set my mind at ease. But it does feel rather pitiful, doesn’t it?” “Not at all—there’s nothing pitiful about it. Just leave him some sweets and that’ll be fine.” I was astonished. What ungrateful wretches they were! Even though they’ve received so much care from me. You can’t judge people by their looks. From now on, it would be better to regard everyone as thieves than to stay confined in bed. Even Haru has joined in their scheme to keep me confined to bed. As if I’d drink any medicine they bring! I too have my own discretion. I’ll just force my way to the wedding—that’ll settle it.

It seemed they truly intended to keep me confined, for they wouldn’t give me any clothes, so I threw a sheet over my nightclothes. Downstairs, a large crowd had gathered, so if I went looking like this, I’d be caught immediately. So, having no choice, I climbed out the window, shimmied down the gutter, and dashed off to the church. The old gatekeeper was sweeping the garden, but seizing an opportunity, I dashed into the hall. No one had arrived yet. I thought it was already in the bag.

Behind the pulpit were many chairs lined up. There were also quite a lot of flowers arranged. Taro slipped under the chair. It was quite cramped, but he held his breath and endured. He waited and waited until his legs began to go numb, and then people began to arrive. They seemed to be a large crowd, but since he was covered with a sheet, he couldn’t see their faces. All he could hear was the clamor of voices.

Amidst this, the organ began to play, the pastor came out, and at last the wedding ceremony commenced. Taro’s legs had gone numb. Once the hymns had ended and the prayers had ended, I felt delighted when the pastor began reading it. I didn’t know what he was on about, but because of him, I’d been crouching under that chair for over three hours. “Gentlemen gathered here, we assemble in this place before God’s holy presence so that this man and woman may perform the sacred rite of marriage. Now marriage was ordained by God from ancient times when mankind remained sinless. The Lord Jesus attended the wedding feast at Cana in Galilee and blessed it with His first miracle. Paul compared this union to Christ’s oneness with His Church, and taught you all to hold marriage in all honor. Now these two shall establish a sacred vow and proceed with the marriage ceremony. If there be any among you who know of any lawful impediment why these persons should not be joined in holy matrimony, let them declare it forthwith...”

Taro, who had been all ears, kicked the chair aside and sprang out at that moment. And then he said thus:

“There is a lawful impediment!” “I hereby declare.” “I oppose this marriage.” The entire hall erupted into chaos. Some of the women even began to sob. They probably thought Taro was a polar bear or something. Sister Haru was gripping Dr. Morikawa’s hand and turning pale. She was apparently worried Dr. Morikawa might run away. Father, Mother, Sister Hana, and Aunt were all silently glaring at Taro. The pastor kept looking between Taro and Dr. Morikawa in utter dismay.

“He gives medicine to his younger brother even though he isn’t sick.” “And he tries to keep me from attending the wedding.” “A doctor who does such things can’t become my brother.” “I think this marriage shouldn’t happen.” “Please cancel this wedding, I beg you.” “I hereby declare.”

Everyone laughed. The family alone remained as silent as stone. When Father started to stand, Dr. Morikawa stepped forward and said this. He said in a small voice.

“Taro, please come down. “I apologize. “I’ll apologize properly, so come over here. “I can’t possibly match you. “I’m sorry. “I’ll never do it again, so please—Taro, come here.” “Then that’s acceptable. “Pastor, conduct the wedding. “Since I’m wearing sleepwear, I’ll wait right here.”

With that, Taro crawled back under the chair.

The remainder of the ceremony was magnificent, but here and there the attendees giggled. What fools. A church isn't a place for laughter. I may be called bad, bad, but I have never laughed in church or engaged in whispered conversations.

After the ceremony ended, Taro returned home with everyone. Neither Father nor Mother said anything in particular. Today was probably because I had the right of it. Mr. Shimizu and Sister Hana sat Taro between them and let him eat everything. "Taro, you really haven't changed a bit, have you?" Sister Hana guffawed. Sister Haru also smirked. Because they themselves had changed, they thought that even others must have changed as well.

Aunt had been angry earlier, but she seemed to have gotten over it, as she came to Sister Haru’s wedding. Old people are said to be like children. She hadn’t merely come—she had given Sister Haru a high-quality ring. Aunt’s name was Haru, and Sister Haru’s name was also Haru. Sister had received Aunt’s name and been given Haru. And so, Sister had received a ring engraved with the character for Haru as a wedding gift. In this world, you never know what might bring happiness. I should have been named Harunosuke. Neither Yawata Taro nor Ando Taro gives me anything. Taro is such a lousy name.

Aunt was someone who asked all sorts of questions. She must have been reverting to childishness in her old age. I was at a loss when she asked why Uncle in Osaka had gotten angry. While I didn’t know the full story, I dodged her by claiming things like a donkey had dropped a trumpet down a well or Pochi had eaten some glasses.

“How’s your sister doing? Did she like the ring?” “Well, she said this: ‘Since Aunt made it, it’s behind the times.’” “‘But the stone and metal are good quality,’ she added, ‘so I’ll have it remade.’” “Is that so? She actually said that?” “Girls these days are so impertinent—it’s exasperating.”

Aunt did not particularly get angry. She was far easier to manage than Uncle in Osaka. "Is Aunt going to keep chewing on rocks for another ten years?" "What's that, Taro?"

“My sisters said so.” “They said his share won’t be settled anytime soon and you’ll probably be gnawing on rocks for another ten years or so.” “Is that really how it is?” “So you’re just gonna keep crunching on pickled radish or whatever, even though you’re old?”

Just as Mother entered, Taro came out.

The pastor came. That pastor was such a strange fellow. This year, those who married at his church weren't limited to just Mr. Shimizu and Dr. Morikawa. I recalled there had been two or three others too - what a ridiculously sagacious kirin of a man, marrying off everyone else while not getting hitched himself in the slightest. When I asked why, he replied pastors must stay unmarried - unless they remained single, they couldn't fully fulfill their divine calling. He spouted such absurdly strict nonsense. But Taro played along, saying "Makes perfect sense," and left it at that. It did make sense, after all. If that pastor ever married, there'd be nobody left to officiate the ceremony. Unless you were Ten'ichi himself, you couldn't be both groom and pastor at once. So that was why the oddball stayed single.

Since he kept urging me to attend Sunday school sometime, I promised to go this coming Sunday. This time I wouldn’t bring anything like a pistol. At one point when I took some drop candies from my pocket and ate them, he asked if I liked drops. “I love drops,” I replied, “and I bought these with the reward I got for delivering Sister Uta’s letter.” When he then asked where I’d taken the letter, I answered that I’d delivered it to the grammar teacher who visits our house.

“Is that so? Did you take it many times?” This time he even asked about frequency. What a nosy guy. Wasn’t a pastor supposed to be in the teaching business? “Yes, I take it over almost every day.” And Taro lied. “Then does that teacher come visiting every night?” And still the pastor kept asking.

“Yes, he comes every night, I tell you. Because that person comes over, my sister hasn’t been going to church lately, I tell you.” This time, he told him a bit of the truth. Then the pastor told Taro to buy some drops or something and gave him a fifty-sen silver coin. He was quite a character. And now he had to go home and prepare for his sermon. “Come to church with your sister on Sunday,” he said, and left with a pale face.

Chuko, Rokko, and Kiyoshi came to play. Because it was raining and they couldn’t go outside, Taro and the others played Gomoku and Hasami Shogi in Father’s study without making a sound. Finally, Kiyoshi proposed they play a property seizure game. When they asked what kind of game that was, he said it would be really fun. When someone said, “Let’s do it then,” another asked, “Do we have any paper?”

“Is writing paper okay?” “Writing paper’s perfect!” Taro pulled out Father’s desk drawer and searched, but there was nothing. Then Kiyoshi found some postage stamps and,

“This is better—with writing paper, you’d have to cut it, which’d be a hassle.” he said.

As I wondered what they’d do next, Kiyoshi ended up pasting stamps one by one—not only on Father’s desk but also the bookshelves, even the picture frames and scroll mountings. “If we stick this many stamps on, won’t the postman take them away?”

“It’s fine. As long as you don’t put them in the mailbox, it’s fine.” That did seem reasonable. Bookshelves were big and could never fit into a mailbox, so there was nothing to worry about. But when I thought Father might come home and get angry, I started to worry. “I’m such a nuisance. If Father comes home and gets angry, it’ll be a problem.” “He won’t get angry—he’ll just be surprised. My dad was really surprised, I tell you. And then he said, ‘It can’t be helped anymore.’”

"So it was you who pasted them on after all?" "It wasn't me." "It was somebody who came by and pasted them on." "And then my family went broke."

It was an unbelievable story, but I had been eagerly waiting, intending to surprise Father. But Father didn’t act surprised; he went straight to getting angry. And with a “You never do anything proper,” I was whacked with a briefcase. Kiyoshi was a liar. That guy would end up a thief.

The circus would start tomorrow. Today I did nothing but look at advertisements. It was like combining a circus with a zoo—all sorts of rare animals were coming. It seemed I had become quite learned indeed—I could now read about half of the circus advertisements. For the characters I didn’t know, I asked my friends, so I learned quite a lot of new ones in a single day today. At school, they should stop with textbooks and have us read circus advertisements instead. Since it would also serve as an aid in teaching children natural history, it stated that teachers and parents hoped to grant the children a day’s holiday. They were earnestly hoping for good things.

During arithmetic class, the teacher said, “Have you finished the answers?” and took Taro’s slate to inspect. Then he said, “I’ll give you ten penalty points.” On Taro’s slate, a large elephant had been drawn without him noticing. It seemed he had meant to work on arithmetic but was actually thinking about the circus.

Taro went with Chuko to see the circus. Because they had arrived much too early, they went around to see the animals. When they fed the monkey bread with red pepper, it sneezed and was hilarious. Just as they were about to do a bit more, the guard came and got really angry, so Taro and the others went over to the elephants. Elephants are such strange creatures. Their eyes are ridiculously narrow for the size of their faces. If monkeys are relatives of humans, then elephants must be siblings of whales. Someone gave Taro a large loaf of bread. This one had been laced with red pepper too. Since it was eating so sweetly, he thought he’d give it another one and approached, but elephants are so ungrateful—it was a problem. Suddenly, it grabbed Taro with its trunk and flung him away. Fortunately, he landed on a row of sheep, so there were no injuries, but the sheep ended up sitting on their rumps and stayed that way.

“I won’t be responsible if you get hurt.”

The guard glared, and the circus master also came out, “Dangerous, dangerous! You’re not hurt? What a lucky kid. Like Jonah.” he said. Jonah got swallowed by a whale. He didn’t get thrown by an elephant. This circus master clearly didn’t know his Bible. What a pitiful man. Why’d that giraffe have such a ridiculously long neck anyway? While I imagined how modern it’d look wearing Western clothes, Chuko went and got his hand pecked by the parrot.

“Why are you doing something so dangerous? Don’t expect me to care if you get hurt,” I scolded. If Chuko got hurt, it would immediately be blamed on me. The circus performers were really skilled. Why did his horse obey him so well? It would take considerable practice to escape the ring like her. A child about my age performed an acrobatic handstand on top of an old man’s head. I could probably do something like that myself. If only Father would become a circus performer too. But since he lacked such ambition, there was nothing to be done.

Today, Taro went to see the circus again and finally made up his mind. He would become a circus performer. Better to perform those acrobatics and be praised than stay home getting scolded. And so he had formulated this plan and now intended to make his escape. The circus people would depart at two o'clock tonight. Any cart would do; I just needed to sneak into one quietly. Once we were far enough away, I’d ask the master to take me on as an apprentice. A week of practice and I’d surely master it. Then I’d be wearing a bright red kimono and doing rope jumps and handstands on my horse. The audience would clap their hands. That just struck eleven. Twelve, thirteen—no, twelve, one, two—still three hours left. Better to go early and wait—no room for mistakes. Mother would be shocked when I disappeared, but this was all for my glorious future—nothing to be done about it.

The circus people were making preparations to depart. Many carts were lined up. The luggage had not yet been loaded. Taro seized his chance, climbed into a large box on one of the carts, and covered himself from head to toe with a cloth. He was now feeling relieved, convinced that this would secure his place as an apprentice.

Taro likely fell asleep soon after, it seemed. When he awoke, the cart was moving. He must have been roused by the violent rattling and creaking. Looking outside, he saw stars glittering. Ah—realizing this meant farewell to Mother and his sisters brought a sudden ache to his chest. His body kept shifting position, the cart groaned incessantly, and the carter’s constant shouting at the horse made proper sleep impossible. Each time he began drifting off, he’d jerk awake again. Gradually, light began seeping into the space.

When Taro wondered what on earth kind of box this was and looked around, he was astonished. Three feet ahead was a lion. And it was staring fixedly at his face. Just as it had when he saw it at the circus, it lay there with its chin resting on its front paws. The night had already ended.

Taro wondered what to do. When Taro shifted his body slightly, the lion growled. If he stayed perfectly still here, over there it would silently watch Taro’s face. It blinked occasionally. It would surely attack before long.

I bowed to the lion. Then the lion growled again. There was nothing to do but freeze again. If I stayed perfectly still，it would still silently gaze at my face. It might come at any moment. This was truly unsettling.

Taro closed his eyes and prayed the Lord’s Prayer. The lion remained in its previous posture. Taro prayed the Lord’s Prayer five or six times. When he opened his eyes in surprise, the lion was licking Taro’s forehead.

By the time he came to his senses, Taro was lying on the grassland. A crowd surrounded Taro. They had been blowing water onto his face.

“Ah! I wasn’t eaten!” “You were almost eaten!”

“You were almost eaten!” said the carter. “Why on earth did you go in there?”

The circus master marveled. Then Taro explained that he had wanted to become an apprentice and had hidden inside the box. Everyone laughed uproariously and told him to hurry back to his mother.

“That was dangerous. Because his lion was sick, we moved it into his box last night. If it hadn’t been sick, you would’ve been eaten. Dangerous. You’re a little Jonah-like rascal.” Jonah never went into a lion’s box. The one who entered the lion’s den was Daniel. The circus master turned everything into Jonah. And he didn’t seem likely to make him his apprentice. Moreover, since Taro had already started wanting to go home, he had one of their underlings sent along with him.

Taro arrived home in the evening. Because he had walked a long way, blisters had formed on his feet. All the family members rejoiced and welcomed Taro. It was exactly like the return of a prodigal son from his travels.

I really was better off at home. When I asked Oshima she said Mother had been crying all day. They had sent telegrams to Aunt and dispatched people in all directions causing a huge commotion. I would never run away again. Father gave money to the person who had brought me back and thanked him. I would never become a circus performer again.

Summer vacation was about to begin. Chuko was apparently going away for the summer to escape the heat. His mother said that once vacation started and he played with me every day，he might end up getting seriously hurt，so he should go to the coast as soon as possible. That guy’s mother truly didn’t get it. If you talked so spitefully，people wouldn’t dote on you. Mother said it wasn’t just Taro who was bad. Even Chuko could be quite a troublemaker. But even so，I heard Mother was too kind-hearted to speak her mind. Still，I got along best with Chuko. We sometimes quarreled，but we quickly made up again. It was absurd how well we children got along while our mothers glared at each other. Chuko gave me snake eggs. He’d brought five and given two to me. Chuko guaranteed they’d become mamushi vipers，but I thought they’d be Japanese rat snakes. If they were mamushi，that’d be a sure thing. Since it was unclear what they’d become，I’d hidden them inside the parlor stove. I usually checked two or three times a day，but today I was too busy playing and hadn’t looked even once. They might have already hatched by now. Today had been quite hot.

The grammar teacher was a real nuisance. He had stationed himself by the snake eggs since earlier and was conversing with Sister Uta. No matter how many times he went to check, the man didn’t budge. In the pond out back, frogs were croaking incessantly, but no matter how much they croaked, he showed no sign of leaving.

“The part where you get your shinai taken is interesting, right?” “‘See? That’s where you had your shinai taken,’ right? That part’s amusing.” “So that’s where you had your kote taken too?”

And the two of them were laughing as if it were truly amusing. There was nothing even slightly amusing about that. What a hopeless guy. Taro, having decided he no longer cared, stomped into the parlor. And then he silently stood there. He thought if he did this they'd move away from the stove, but they kept right on talking nonchalantly. Why did they have no sense of public morality? They had become truly hateful.

Then the entrance bell rang. When I thought it might be someone and was about to go check, Sister called out "Taro-san, wait!" and gave me this private instruction. "If it's Ms. Tomiko, tell her we're out. Go look right away."

At the entrance, Ms. Tomiko had brought two friends along. When they asked for Sister, "Sister is out, so it's no use." "No matter what, she’s out for you." “She refuses.” “She’s busy talking with the teacher—there’s nothing to be done.” And with that refusal. Without even saying “Very well,” Ms. Tomiko pulled her friends by the hand and went home. Sister Uta yanked Taro’s ear like a madwoman. It was said that since Ms. Tomiko was a notorious chatterbox, there was no telling what she might say at school tomorrow. The teacher, sensing Sister Uta’s change in mood, soon took his leave. He had been troubled again when his hat went missing. Taro’s white mice were delighted that their nest had grown larger.

That teacher was an exceptionally unlucky fellow. He kept suffering terrible ordeals whenever he came to Taro’s house. He would get made to faint, have his cane broken, his hat taken away by Chuko—it was all just one terrible thing after another. And yet he kept coming back without learning his lesson. He was truly a thick-skinned man. That’s why he had his hat taken again, you see? That’s why he didn’t even notice his umbrella had been torn, you see?

Since the other day, Yuriko-san and her mother had been staying at Taro’s house. Mother and Sister Uta were keeping an eye on him, worried he might pull some mischief, but since he got along so well with Yuriko-san, he’d never do anything bad—and Yuriko-san was two years older than him. Sister Uta was beautiful, but Yuriko-san, being still a child, was lovely. Taro said to Oshima as follows. “I wonder what’s going on, Oshima. When Yuriko-san comes into my room, I get so happy my heart races.” “But after she leaves, I feel kind of lonely.”

Oshima started to giggle. "What's so funny?" Even when asked, she kept laughing. Even when I said I'd hit her if she laughed, she still laughed.

She's such an idiot. And then, laughing, she said: “That’s because Young Master is in love with Yuriko-san.” “Maybe so, maybe not.” “That’s certainly the case.” “Because you’re in love, your heart races whenever Yuriko-san comes by, you know.” And then she had the nerve to laugh again. I thought that perhaps she might be right. Then Oshima truly was an incorrigible wretch. “Young Master, why don’t you buy some flowers and try giving them to Yuriko-san?” “If Yuriko-san accepts it and blushes, then she’s in love with you too.”

“And if she doesn’t blush, what then?” “Then you’ll be heartbroken, Young Master!” I thought I would probably end up heartbroken. But since Oshima kept insisting so much, I figured I might as well give it a shot and decided to give her the flowers. And then Oshima promised to keep quiet. If she dares to talk, I’ll expose that time I gave money to that shady guy.

Taro promptly splurged fifty sen to buy flowers and gave them to Miss Yuriko. “Thank you,” was all Miss Yuriko said, maintaining a perfectly calm expression. There, see? I finally ended up heartbroken. I won’t play with such a heartless girl anymore, and that’s that. Thanks to Oshima, I ended up wasting fifty sen.

Today, I stuffed gunpowder into the chimney and made it explode. Because of that, the sitting room furnishings were quite damaged. Both Father and Mother scold me, but whether I'm actually in the wrong or not—I want someone with a shred of sense to decide that. When I went to Rokko's house to play, Rokko showed me a splendid picture postcard album. When I asked where he'd bought it, he said he'd received it last Christmas. And the fact that he apparently got it from Santa Claus was downright strange.

Last Christmas, I received various gifts from both Father and Mother. But Santa Claus didn't give me anything. Had that old Santa forgotten to stop by my house? If he came to Rokko's place, he couldn't have skipped mine. That guy's house and mine aren't even three blocks apart. Not only that—Chuko swore he actually saw Santa. Though since that idiot didn't make a peep, he didn't get squat either. Santa must've come to my house too. He came all right—just couldn't squeeze through our skinny chimney. With that thing, even a kid couldn't get in.

So even though there’s still six months until Christmas, thinking it better to start preparing now, I destroyed the chimney. If they say this is wrong, then preparing for Christmas must all be wrong. Without understanding this logic, they just think it’s fine to scold me from the get-go. Instead of that, they should just hurry up and call a plasterer to build a proper chimney—about six feet square—and be done with it. Burning my hand and getting scolded—it’s all truly ridiculous.

I'd had a headache since morning with an awful sore throat. So I decided to skip school. "Probably diphtheria," Mother said while giving me medicine. She planned to monitor my condition and call Dr. Morikawa if I worsened. But by nine o'clock I'd fully recovered and went out to play. When I went to invite Chuko, Mother came out glowering and said he had a headache and sore throat while lying down. It might as well have been my fault. Still, that Chuko was hopeless. It was already past nine. If you don't keep promises, you lose all credibility.

So, having no other choice, I went to Sister Haru’s house. Even if they were to say something as harmless as inviting me over to play, it’s not like they’d be punished for it—yet both Sister Haru and Dr. Morikawa were such overly cautious people. Even if the heavens were to collapse, they probably would have had no intention of saying such a thing. However, Sister Haru treated me better than I had expected. She lavishly brought out snacks and everything else. But for some reason, Sister wasn’t speaking much with Dr. Morikawa. Thinking it was strange, when I later asked Mr. Miyaki, it turned out that the doctor and his wife had had a clash that morning.

“It was over a kimono that his wife got angry.”

“That must be it, exactly!” “You certainly know that’s exactly how it is, Taro-san.” “She gets angry right away if she doesn’t like the kimono. “She’s been like that since she was at home.” I gave a comprehending reply in an adult-like manner. This student, being a diligent scholar, maintained a highly meticulous investigative attitude as he observed Dr. Morikawa and Sister Haru. They had large physiques but were such childlike fellows. So Sister Haru had treated me well because of him. Being doted on was all well and good, but being doted on out of spite wasn’t the least bit appreciated.

I had an incident this summer where I came perilously close to death. To say I had a brush with death makes it sound like someone else was responsible, but in truth, it was entirely my own doing, and this time, I couldn’t shift the blame onto anyone else. If I had died then and there, just as I was, how Mother would have grieved. When I recall that, tears still overflow even now.

Throughout the summer, I was taken on trips by Father and Mother. Mother, what with managing the marriages of two older sisters and Sister Uta’s engagement negotiations while being irritated, had her health somewhat damaged from the extra troubles I caused—running off with lions and vanishing in hot air balloons. So if Father were to travel all summer, that would be just fine—I offered to take him along myself. I agreed, saying it was an excellent idea, but my agreement ended up backfiring on me. Apparently, Sister Uta and I were going to stay behind and look after the house. They're taking people for fools.

But as they say, you never know what will bring happiness in this world.Sister Uta begged off house-sitting with me outright.That was reasonable.She'd had more than enough after one time.But I hadn't expected them to leave like this.Rejoicing at how things were finally looking up for him,Tarō struck a fierce statue pose in the garden.Pochi came running over then and licked his head.He thinks we're friends.

“Pochi, Pochi, be quiet. I’ll take you along to Niagara too!” Pochi wagged his tail happily. Since this dog had the audacity to understand human words despite being just an animal, I gave him a smack on the head.

I’ve forgotten what day in July we departed on, but it was certainly while night still hadn’t broken. Dr. Morikawa and Sister Haru came to the station to see them off. From home came Sister Uta and O-Shima. Everyone bade Father and Mother a pleasant journey and told Taro to go quietly and return. They probably think it’s fine even if I’m in a bad mood. That’s exactly why I ended up in such a dangerous situation.

“Taro, you can’t keep getting off at every station like this.” “It’s dangerous—I can’t take my eyes off you for a moment!” “No, I went to check on Pochi. If night doesn’t break soon, it’ll be too dark to see anything.”

“What are you saying about Pochi?” “I brought Pochi along.” “Brought him? Where have you put him?” “I’ve tied him to the very last car.” Mother turned pale, “You must do something! Please stop the train!”

she pleaded with Father. “What? What’s happened?” “What’s happened?” “Quickly ring the bell! If you don’t hurry, he’ll die!” Taro yanked the emergency alarm cord with all his might. The train had been racing at full speed until then but came to an abrupt stop with a terrible noise. The passengers all turned pale. They must have thought some calamity had occurred. Mother asked the conductor to check the very last car. But there had been no need to stop the train. Pochi was no longer there. At the end of the thin rope that Taro had tied to the car’s axle, there was nothing but one of the dog’s ears. It was truly tragic for Pochi. In his eagerness to let him enjoy the sights together, he had ended up doing something reckless.

“There was never another dog so quiet.”

Mother seemed about to cry. "There’s no fool like you."

Father scolded Taro. The conductor glared at Taro as if he wanted to devour him. Because Taro was running around all over the train car, Mother had been worried all day long. And so, as soon as night fell, Taro was shoved into the sleeping berth. But I just couldn't fall asleep. The guy in the neighboring berth next to me was snoring, making it unbearably irritating. This isn't your private sleeping car—you need to keep quiet. You'll regret it if you don't stay quiet. No matter what I thought, he kept right on snoring away nonchalantly. What a public nuisance.

I was so fed up that I quietly got up and jabbed the guy’s foot with a pin. The jab made him quiet for a moment, but he started right back up again shortly after. And so I lay down and got up five or six times. Then, finally, he let out a loud "Ouch! Ouch!" His snoring alone was already such a nuisance, but for him to start crying—what an unreasonable guy. However, after that, he seemed to have learned his lesson and stopped his loud snoring.

In the midst of all this，Taro became thirsty．If he were to ask for water，the attendant would bring it，but thinking that calling someone would disturb others’ peaceful sleep，Taro quietly got up and went to drink water．

Returning as quietly as a mouse and crawling into bed, with a “Gyah!” cry, Taro was pushed off the sleeping berth. “Hey! Someone, come here!” The attendant rushed over and suddenly grabbed Taro by the collar. And then he began roughly shoving him back and forth. He must have mistaken Taro for a dust-covered coat. In Taro's berth, some lady was crying. Due to this commotion, all the passengers in the train car woke up. Father and Mother repeatedly apologized to this lady. The lady apparently didn’t consider Taro a child. Taro also hadn’t thought it was her berth.

Mother had been telling Father how it would have been better not to come on this trip. But since we’d arrived at Niagara Falls the very next day, there was nothing to be done about it. If I had to endure such treatment, I too should never have come along. The waterfall was enormous. Even from several miles away, its roar sounded like distant thunder. At the falls themselves, rainbows constantly formed in the mist, creating a truly spectacular sight. Beyond the rainbows, there were countless other things worth seeing nearby. The waterfall had four distinct viewing angles: the outer side, the inner side—where you could pass behind the curtain of water— and both the Canadian and American sides. Though geography books depict these falls, their majestic grandeur defies capture by pen and ink. If a magician like Tenichi could somehow put this waterfall in a giant glass case and tour the world exhibiting it, what a sensation that would make! Imagine how much easier it would be for children learning geography and earth science. Yet everyone was more shocked by the exorbitant carriage fees than anything else. Father declared he’d been more startled by the coach fares than by the waterfall itself. Not that you’d need to bring something like a carriage to such a spectacle anyway. If they could just can the waterfall as-is and carry it around, there’d be no problem at all.

On the day Taro arrived, a French acrobat was about to perform a tightrope walk over this waterfall. Mother said he was a lunatic, but he didn’t look the least bit deranged. Judging by his appearance, he seemed like a quiet man. Taro and Father went to watch the performance. However, Mother was tired and disliked seeing such dangerous things, so she entrusted Taro to Father, requested that he not take his eyes off him even for a moment, and withdrew to the inn by herself.

The Frenchman was said to cross over this waterfall on a rope, holding British and American flags in both hands. If he fell, it would be disastrous—truly a life-risking endeavor. But that man wouldn’t fall. Even if he did, he wouldn’t die just like that. He’d surely turn into a carp, I thought—a carp that would climb up Niagara Falls next time. The spectators roared with cheers. After fumbling through his preparations, the Frenchman made his proposal: “Isn’t there anyone who’ll let me carry them across? It’s safe! If all goes well, their fame will resound throughout the world! Should anything go wrong, I’ll present five hundred yen as compensation!” “Isn’t there anyone who’ll go? Now this is worth considering,” I thought.

If I went with that acrobat to the opposite shore, I could truly make my fame resound throughout the world. If all went well, there’d be Taro Soap, Taro Musk, Taro Kara—and such—and I’d be celebrated grandly. Even if something went wrong, since he said he’d hand over five hundred yen, it wouldn’t be any real loss. Fortunately, Father had unexpectedly run into a friend, so I was left unattended while he kept up his lively conversation. I asked the acrobat to take me along.

Then the acrobat praised Taro profusely and let him hold a flag. “Keep your eyes closed.” “Hold on tight.” “Just leave everything to me and relax.” “Imagine you’re lying on a futon at home.” “You mustn’t even think there’s a waterfall below.” “You all set now?”

Just when things were at their worst, a policeman arrived and seized Taro.

"This is outrageous!" "Where are your parents?" He probably intended to charge Father with child abuse. Then Father came running and yelled at the Frenchman. If the policeman hadn't stopped him, he might have struck him. Taro truly suffered a loss.

During their time at Niagara, Mother couldn't leave Taro's side for even a single second—she complained that this was like traveling just to invite hardship. Mother stuck to Taro like glue. She never took her eyes off him for a moment. Taro was truly worn out. The next day, after buying souvenirs for Sister Uta among other things, Taro and the others went to see Goat Island. Though called Goat Island, there wasn't a single goat to be found. However, he was genuinely astonished by how rapid the currents were in that area. Just watching them made one's eyes grow dizzy. Perhaps because water clashed against water in such furious haste, a sort of phosphorescence drifted across the surface with terrifying intensity. It suddenly turned cold. Mother kept a firm grip on Taro. "No matter how reckless I might be," he thought, "who'd ever jump into a place like this?" He wasn't about to jump in himself—he just tossed in a handkerchief to measure the water's speed.

Just then, a lady from somewhere came over and began a conversation with Mother. She came to see the sights after all. She was putting on grand airs. She was holding a Japanese Chin dog. While thinking that the Japanese Chin dog’s harness was of the same quality as Miss Yuriko’s ribbon, I poked the dog’s eyes.

“Don’t you find it amusing?”

The lady turned around. Chin might sneeze, but I can’t possibly laugh.

“Young master, do you like Japanese Chin dogs? “Please hold her for a little while. “My arms have grown tired.” Since the lady had let me hold the Japanese Chin dog, I immediately threw it into the water.

The lady broke into frenzied weeping. Declaring that someone had murdered the one she treated as her own child, she appeared ready to plunge into the water after her Japanese Chin dog at any moment. What a senseless woman.

Father restrained her while Mother apologized profusely, and they finally managed to placate her. She left with a tear-stained face—she must have surely become hysterical. The water certainly flows at one mile per second. It was thanks to the Japanese Chin dog that I discovered this fact. Didn’t the teacher say that all science progresses and develops through sacrifice?

They returned to the inn and ate lunch. Why did that inn serve such a fish? The reason I nearly met my death was ultimately the inn’s fault. That Father had said this was a rare fish—a local specialty that couldn’t be caught anywhere but around here—was also quite bad. I made up my mind to go fishing while eating my meal. After finishing the meal, Mother took her nap. During that time, since I’d been told to read a book quietly here, I obediently began reading. The sky was blue. The sun was shining brightly. It was a waste to stay home. Even though I read aloud in a booming voice, Mother kept sleeping soundly, so I figured it was finally safe and slipped out through the window onto the corridor, then jumped down from there to the outside. Along the way I bought fishing gear; then I set up camp at a fairly quiet spot by the water and began fishing. I tried two or three spots, but the current was too fast—nothing would bite. So I gradually moved upstream. As I was lowering my hook by the waterwheel, I noticed a small boat moored at the bank. Since no one was watching, I tried to borrow this boat to reach the opposite shore.

As I rowed out a bit, I ended up losing my fishing rod. While I was thinking this was a problem—because the current’s force was so strong—I had my oar wrested away. At the same time, the boat began to be swept away rapidly. As it grew faster and faster, when I recalled the red ribbon of the Japanese Chin dog from earlier—to confess—I burst into tears. This time, it was no longer a matter for science. And I thought it would have been better if I had just stayed quietly by Mother’s side reading my book, but it was already too late.

The dinghy spun as it was swept along. On the shore, a large crowd of people were shouting and making a commotion. But since I was in the midst of the rapids, no matter how much I wanted to act, there was nothing I could do. In the midst of this, my forehead began to ache, and I closed my eyes. From now on, I would definitely listen to my parents—so I prayed that someone would save me. And thinking that the waterfall must be near now, I threw myself down in the boat and wept. When a loud sound rang out and my body lurched forward, I had already resigned myself to death. However, since there were voices calling from the shore, I got up and looked. The boat had come to a stop. It had run aground on a rock and was broken.

“Hold on tight now!” “Grab onto the rock!”

The shore was crowded with people. But there was nothing they could do. They just kept shouting, "Hold on! Hold on!"

The sun would soon set.

In the textbook we had studied at school, there was a story like this. A baby slipped into a river and was swept away. The mother went mad with grief and ran along the bank calling for help. Though many surveyors were working along the shore, they merely kept crying "Oh dear!" without a single one going to help. They weren't refusing to go. They simply couldn't go. Since that river had such raging rapids, no one could possibly plunge in unless prepared to abandon their lives. The baby was about to perish before everyone's eyes. Yet there was one young man who resolved to cast away his life and jump in. He was a young surveyor. No task undertaken with one's life at stake can fail. He rescued the baby splendidly. This young surveyor later became none other than George Washington, President of the United States. As punishment for not jumping into the river, by the time Washington became president, his fellow surveyors had likely become day laborers or something similar.

Those who just made a fuss on the bank without jumping in back then deserved to become day laborers. If someone had swum out with the resolve to abandon their life during his time, that fellow would surely have become president. Regrettably, there wasn’t a single person as resolute as Washington. In any case, Nokou was miserable at that moment. He could see Mother. Father was there too. Mother kept frantically waving her handkerchief. Nokou cried. "Please forgive me, Mother! It’s all my fault! Please forgive me!" Nokou cried. He knew full well that crying wouldn’t save him now. He just wanted to be forgiven and die. Mother was still waving her handkerchief. Father had disappeared from view.

“I’m coming to save you!” “Hold on tight!” “Just wait there!” Somehow or other, everyone shot a kite string across to the opposite shore. Then, the people on the opposite shore pulled it in. They tied a thick rope to the kite string and pulled it again. Finally, from above Taro’s head to both banks, a single-rope bridge had been formed. “Stay still—I’ll be right there!” Taro was saved without any explanation. The French acrobat crossed over on the rope and carried Taro on his back with a cloth sling.

“Just relax and leave everything to me,” he said. “Close your eyes and stay perfectly still.” Nokou had no idea what had happened until he reached shore. He kept his eyes clamped shut so tightly he feared they might sink into their sockets—only realizing he’d made it when cheers of “Banzai! Banzai!” erupted around him. The commotion defied description. Nokou clung to Mother’s hand wailing inconsolably while Father shook the acrobat’s hand like a long-lost brother reunited after twenty years apart. Spectators marveled at the scene as though watching theater before they all returned together to their inn.

Father gave the acrobat a check for five hundred yen. Then, together with Mother, the two of them took turns admonishing me in various ways. To think they'd scold me so soon that evening after he'd rescued me from such peril—what an ungrateful way to treat someone. Even I hadn't intended for things to turn out like that. I just went out to catch some fish and make Father happy. Since it was the inn that served that kind of fish, and Father who praised it, and the person who left the boat in such a place who's at fault, I don't care if I get scolded. The only thing was that it was a shame I had dropped my new small knife.

The next day, Taro and the others left Niagara. "Never again—we're absolutely never coming back to such a place," Mother said.

We went around to our country relatives and spent the whole summer there. In the meantime，various things happened，but since I had run out of paper in my diary，I decided I would write about them after getting a new one. Sister Uta continued pulling my ear as usual. But it didn't matter since she would soon be marrying a banker. O-Shima remained just as reckless. Whenever mistakes were made，they always blamed them on me. I didn't care about such things，but it seemed I would get expelled from school before ever becoming a minister. This alone was what I couldn't stop worrying about.