We were among the crowd. Everyone in the crowd wore a look of joy. It was not until we had pushed through them and come to a forest where neither flowers nor people could be seen that we had the chance to speak of the same question.
"Is love a sin?" I suddenly asked at that moment.
"It is a sin. Indeed it is," the teacher replied, his tone as firm as before.
"Why is that?"
"You will understand why in time. Not in time—you ought to understand already. Has not your heart long since been set in motion by love?"
I examined the inside of my own chest for a moment. But it was unexpectedly empty. There was nothing that came to mind.
"There is not a single such object in my breast. I have no intention of hiding anything from you, sir."
"It moves precisely because there is no object. Because you think you would be at peace if there were one, you are moved to want to move."
"I am not moving so much just now."
"Is it not because you were unsatisfied that you came moving to me?"
"That may be so. But that is different from love."
"It is the staircase leading up to love. As the preliminary step to embracing the opposite sex, you first came moving to me, of the same sex."
"To me the two seem to differ entirely in nature."
"No, they are the same. As a man, I am inevitably one who cannot give you satisfaction. Moreover, owing to certain special circumstances, I am all the more unable to give you satisfaction. I truly feel sorry for you. That you should move away from me is unavoidable. I would rather hope for it. But..."
I was strangely saddened.
"If you think that I will leave you, sir, there is nothing to be done, but such a thought has not yet arisen in me."
The teacher paid no heed to my words.
"But you must be careful. For love is a sin. In my place, instead of satisfaction you get no danger either—but, my boy, do you know the feeling of being bound by long black hair?"
I knew it by imagination. But as a fact I did not know. In any case, the meaning of the sin the teacher spoke of was vague and unclear to me. Besides, I became a little displeased.
"Sir, please tell me more clearly the meaning of sin. If not, drop this matter here. Until I myself clearly understand the meaning of sin."
"I have done wrong. I thought I was speaking the truth to you. But in fact, I was only anxious about you. I have done wrong."
The teacher and I walked at a quiet pace from behind the museum in the direction of Uguisudani. Through the gaps in the fence, the broadleaf bamboo thickly growing in a part of the wide garden looked deep and secluded.
"Do you know why I go every month to the grave of my friend buried in the Zoshigaya cemetery?"
This question of the teacher's was entirely sudden. Moreover, the teacher well knew that I could not answer this question. I was silent for a while. Then the teacher, as if noticing for the first time, said:
"I have said something wrong again. Thinking it wrong to be anxious, I try to explain, and that explanation in turn ends up making you anxious. There is no help for it. Let us stop this matter here. At any rate, love is a sin, you know. And it is a sacred thing."
The teacher's talk became more and more incomprehensible to me. But after that he did not speak of love again.