二十九

The teacher's talk, having been brought to a halt before reaching its conclusion on account of the dog and the child, ended up leaving me altogether unable to grasp its purport. The concern he had expressed over his property and such was something that, at that time, simply did not exist for me. By my nature, and given my circumstances, there was no room in my mind then for such anxious thoughts of personal gain. Looking back, this was perhaps because I had not yet entered the world, and also because I was not in fact faced with such a situation; but in any case, to my young self the problem of money somehow appeared as something far off in the distance.

The one thing in the teacher's account that I wished to hear through to the bottom was the meaning of his words: that when the moment of truth comes, anyone will turn into a villain. As mere words, there was nothing in this that I could not understand. And yet I wanted to know more about this phrase.

After the dog and the child had gone, the wide garden of fresh leaves returned once more to its former quiet. And we remained motionless for a while, like people locked in silence. The lovely color of the sky gradually began to lose its light. Most of the trees before my eyes were maples, and the light green of their young leaves, blown upon as if dripping from the branches, seemed to grow ever darker. From a distant road came the rumbling sound of a cart being pulled along. I imagined it to be some village man loading potted plants or the like and setting out for a fair. Hearing the sound, the teacher suddenly rose to his feet, like a man who, having been lost in reverie, breathes again.

"Well, let us be getting back. The days have grown long, it seems, but still, while one sits idly like this, dusk creeps up before one knows it."

The teacher's back was covered all over with the imprint of having lain face-up on the wooden veranda just earlier. I brushed it off with both hands.

"Thank you. It isn't stuck with grease, is it?"

"It came off cleanly."

"This haori was only made up the other day, you see. So if I go home having dirtied it for no reason, my wife will scold me. Thank you."

The two of us came once more to the house midway up the gentle slope. On the veranda, where earlier no one had seemed to be, the mistress was now winding thread onto a spool with a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girl. The two of us offered our greetings from beside the large goldfish bowl: "We have been a great bother." The mistress returned the courtesy with, "Not at all, we have done nothing for you," and then mentioned the white copper coin she had given the child earlier.

When we had come two or three blocks from the gate, I at last spoke up to the teacher.

"Earlier, sir, you said that when the moment of truth comes, anyone will turn into a villain. That meaning—what did it mean?"

"Meaning—there is no deep meaning. It is simply a fact. Not a matter of theory."

"It may well be a fact, but what I wish to ask is the meaning of 'when the moment of truth comes.' Just what sort of situation does it refer to?"

The teacher burst out laughing. It was as if, the moment having passed, there was no longer any point in explaining earnestly.

"Money, my boy. The moment they see money, even the finest gentleman turns villain at once."

To me, the teacher's reply was too commonplace to be interesting. Just as the teacher had not risen to the bait, I too felt somewhat deflated. I composed my face and started walking briskly. Naturally, the teacher fell a little behind. From behind, he called out, "Hey, wait."

"There, you see."

"See what?"

"Even your mood changes at once over a single reply of mine, doesn't it?"

Looking at my face as I turned and stopped to let him catch up, the teacher said this.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”