九 2

He flashed a little lightning at me. As a reply, I showed him the back of my hand with my index finger extended.

Unable to wait for Red Shirt to return to his seat, Yamarashi abruptly stood up, and I was so delighted that I involuntarily clapped my hands. Then, with Tanuki and everyone else turning to look at me, I was somewhat at a loss. Yamarashi, what do you suppose he said? “Just now, the principal and especially the head teacher expressed great regret over Mr. Koga’s transfer, but I am somewhat opposed—I hope Mr. Koga will leave this place as soon as possible. Nobeoka is a remote region, and compared to here there will no doubt be material inconveniences. However, I hear it is a place of exceedingly simple and honest customs, where all staff and students are endowed with the unsophisticated spirit of ancient times. I believe there is not a single high-collared dandy there who sprinkles insincere flattery or uses a handsome face to trap gentlemen. Therefore, a man of your warm, gentle, and sincere character will surely be welcomed by all of that region. I greatly celebrate this transfer on Mr. Koga’s behalf. In closing, once you take up your post in Nobeoka, I hope you will select a lady of that place qualified to be a good match for a gentleman, form a happy household as soon as possible, and on the facts reduce that unfaithful and undisciplined tomboy to dying of shame.” He gave two great fake coughs of “ahem, ahem” and sat down. I thought of clapping again this time, but since I disliked everyone looking at my face again, I refrained. When Yamarashi sat, next Mr. Uranari stood. With utmost politeness, he walked from his own seat to the lowest seat at the end of the room, bowed courteously to all, and then said: “On this occasion, due to personal circumstances, I am to go to Kyushu, and that the teachers have opened this grand farewell gathering for me is truly beyond words of gratitude—especially having just now received farewell addresses from the principal, head teacher, and others, I am deeply thankful and shall take them to heart. I am going to a distant place, but I ask that you not forsake me as before, and that you continue your favor.” He bowed stiffly and returned to his seat. Uranari is good-natured to a degree where one can hardly see the bottom. He was politely thanking the principal and head teacher who had made such fools of him. If it were mere formality, that would be one thing, but from his manner, his wording, and his face, he seemed to be sincerely grateful. If such a saint seriously thanked them, one would feel sorry and almost blush, yet both Tanuki and Red Shirt only listened gravely.

When the speeches ended, from here and there came the sound of “chu, chu.” I imitated and tried the soup, but it was awful. There was fish cake as an appetizer, but it was dark and a failed version of a tube-shaped fish cake. Sashimi was also laid out, but it was thick, the same as eating raw tuna cuts. Even so, the neighboring fellows were munching away as if delicious. Probably they had never eaten Edo-style cuisine.

By and by, when warm sake bottles began passing frequently, the four sides suddenly grew lively. Nodagō went respectfully before the principal to receive a cup. What a disagreeable fellow. Uranari was going around in order offering and receiving, seeming intent on making one full round. Greatly tiresome for him. When Uranari came before me and straightening the pleats of his hakama said, “Let me have one,” I too awkwardly, still in trousers, sat properly and offered him a cup. “It is a pity you came all this way only to part so soon. When do you depart? I must see you off to the beach,” I said, and Uranari replied, “No, you are busy, please do not trouble.” Whatever Uranari said, I meant to skip school and see him off.

Then within about an hour the gathering grew quite disorderly. One or two began slurring, “Well, one cup—oh, I’ll drink,” and so on. Finding it a bit boring, I went to the toilet and was viewing the old-style garden by starlight when Yamarashi came. “How was my speech just now, pretty good?” Quite pleased with himself. I said I greatly approved but protested one point I disliked, and he asked where I disagreed.

“You said there are no high-collared dandies in Nobeoka who trap people with handsome faces.”

“Yeah.”

“High-collared dandies alone are not enough.”

“Then what should I say?”

“Say something like: high-collared dandies, swindlers, cheats, hypocrites, showmen, flying squirrels, police informers, and fellows who bark ‘wan wan’ no better than dogs.”

“I can’t turn my tongue that way. You are eloquent. Above all you know a great many words. It’s strange you can’t make a speech.”

“This? I kept these words in reserve for use in fights, just in case. In a speech they don’t come out like this.”

“Is that so? But they flow glibly. Try it once more.”

“I’ll do it as many times as you like.—High-collared dandies, swindlers, cheats—” he was starting to say, when on the veranda came a clatter, and two men came staggering out.

“You two, that’s awful—running away—while I’m here I won’t let you escape, come drink.—Cheats?—Funny, cheats funny.—Come drink,”

they dragged me and Yamarashi along. Actually both had come to the toilet, but being drunk they forgot to go in and dragged us instead. A drunk makes business of whatever is before his eyes and immediately forgets the prior matter.

“Come, gentlemen, I’ve dragged the cheats here. Come, make them drink. Get the cheats good and drunk. You, don’t run,”

they pressed me, who had no intention of fleeing, against the wall. Looking around, not one tray had decent food left on it. Some had cleanly eaten their share and gone on expedition five or six rooms away. The principal was gone, no one knew when.

Then, “Is the party here?” and three or four geisha entered. I was a bit surprised, but being pressed against the wall I stayed still and just watched. Then Red Shirt, who until then had been leaning on the pillar proudly holding his amber pipe, suddenly stood and started to leave the room. One of the geisha entering from the opposite side, passing him, laughed and greeted him. That one was the youngest and prettiest. I couldn’t hear from afar, but she seemed to say, “Oh, good evening.” Red Shirt pretended not to know her and left, never showing his face again. Probably went off after the principal.

When the geisha came, the room turned suddenly cheerful, so much so one might think all raised a war cry in welcome—noisy. One fellow grabbed a geisha’s hand. The loudness of his voice was like practice in instant sword drawing. Over here they threw punches. “Yo! Ha!” swinging both arms in a frenzy, far better than the puppets of the Dark troupe. In a far corner, “Hey, waitress!” someone waved a bottle, then corrected to “Sake! Sake!” Truly too noisy and restless to bear. Amid all this, the only one hanging idle with head bowed in thought was Uranari. The farewell gathering held for him was not from regret at his transfer. It was for everyone to drink and play. It was for him alone to suffer idle and miserable. Such a farewell gathering were better never held.

After a while, each raised a loud voice and began singing something. A geisha coming before me hugged a shamisen and said, “You, sing something,” so I said I won’t, you sing, and she sang in two breaths: “Not with bell and drum, lost child, lost child, San-tarō, don-doko, don no chan-chiki-rin. If I could meet by beating around, I too with bell and drum, don-doko, don no chan-chiki-rin, would beat around to meet the one I wish,” then said, “Oh, tired.” If she’s tired, she should do something easier.

Then Noda, who had somehow come and sat beside me, said, “Thought Suzuki met the one she wished, but went straight home, my pity for you,” using his ever storyteller-like speech. “Don’t know,” the geisha said primly. Noda unconcernedly began, “By chance meet though meet…,” giving a nasty voice imitating jōruri. “Play!” the geisha slapped Noda’s knee with her open hand, and Noda laughed in delight. This geisha was the one who greeted Red Shirt. To be slapped by a geisha and laugh—Noda is a simple soul. “Suzuki, I’ll dance the Kii no Kuni, play for me,” he said. Noda meant to dance yet more.

On the other side, the old Chinese scholar twisted his toothless mouth: “Can’t hear that, Denbē-san, between you and me…,” got that out safely, then asked the geisha, “And then?” Old men have poor memory. One grabbed the natural history teacher: “Lately this kind’s made, shall I play? Listen well—‘Flower Moon Roll, white-ribbon high-collared head, rides a bicycle, plays the violin, with half-baked English babbles, I am glad to see you’”—he sang, and the natural history teacher marveled, “Indeed interesting, English mixed in.”

Yamarashi bellowed in a ridiculously loud voice, calling “Geisha, geisha,” and ordered, “I’ll do a sword dance, play the shamisen!” The geisha, startled by his rough voice, gave no answer. Yamarashi cared nothing, brought a cane, stepped to the center with “Trampling a thousand mountains and ten thousand peaks of smoke,” and performed a solo hidden talent. Then Noda, having finished Kii no Kuni, finished kabore, finished the shelf daruma, now in only a loincloth bare, hugging a palm broom, began parading the room with “Japan-China negotiations broken…”—utterly mad.

From earlier I had felt nothing but pity for Uranari, who still in hakama stood reserved looking in pain, but thought that however his own farewell it was unnecessary to endure in robe and hakama even to a loincloth naked dance, so went to him and suggested, “Mr. Koga, let us go home.” Then Uranari said, “Today is my farewell gathering, so if I go home first—

“Stories of the world, in your language.”