At that moment, I felt a resentful dislike for the teacher in my heart. Even after we fell into step side by side, I deliberately refrained from asking what I wanted to know. Whether the teacher noticed this or not, he showed no sign of being bothered by my attitude. He simply carried on as usual, mostly silent, with his composed and settled stride, and that only made me a little irritated. I began to want to say something that would put the teacher in his place.
"Teacher."
"Yes?"
"You were a bit excited earlier, weren't you? When we were resting in that gardener's yard. I've rarely seen you excited, but today I feel I witnessed something unusual."
The teacher did not answer right away. I took that as a sign that I had struck a nerve, but also felt it might have missed the mark. With no choice, I decided to say no more. Then the teacher suddenly stepped toward the edge of the road. There, beneath a neatly trimmed hedge, he hitched up his robe and urinated. I stood there blankly while the teacher relieved himself.
"Well, excuse me."
With these words the teacher started walking again. I finally gave up on the idea of getting the better of him. The road we traveled grew gradually livelier. The broad slopes and flat fields of farmland that had been sparsely visible until then were now hidden entirely as rows of houses lined up on either side. Even so, here and there at the corners of residential lots, one could quietly observe pea vines wound around bamboo poles, or chickens penned in by wire mesh. Packhorses returning from the city passed by without cease. Constantly liable to have my attention stolen by such things, I shook off the problem that had been in my chest somewhere along the way. When the teacher suddenly turned back to it, I had in fact forgotten it.
"Did I appear that excited just now?"
"Not quite as much as 'that,' but a little..."
"No, it doesn't matter if it showed. I really was excited. Whenever I speak of property, I am sure to become excited. I don't know how it looks to you, but I am in fact a terribly vindictive man. Insults and injuries I've received from others—even after ten or twenty years, I never forget them."
The teacher's words were even more agitated than before. But what surprised me was by no means his tone. Rather, it was the very meaning of the teacher's words as they appealed to my ear. Hearing such a confession from the teacher's own mouth was, even to me, wholly unexpected. As a defining trait of the teacher's character, I had never once imagined such tenacity. I had believed the teacher to be a weaker man. And it was in that weak yet lofty place that the roots of my affection for him were planted. I, who had thought to lightly provoke the teacher on a passing whim, shrank small before these words. The teacher said:
"I was deceived by another. And deceived by blood relatives, no less. I shall never forget it. They who seemed good men before my father, the moment he died turned into unpardonable scoundrels. The insult and injury I received from them I have borne since childhood to this day. Likely I shall bear it until I die. Since I cannot forget it even unto death. Yet I have not taken revenge. When I think on it, I am in fact doing something beyond revenge upon an individual. I have learned not merely to hate them, but to hate humankind in general, which they represent. And that, I think, is enough for me."
I could not even bring a word of comfort to my lips.
