It would take at least twenty-four hours to write down everything that happened in twenty-four hours, and to read it all, and no matter how much I advocate for descriptive writing, I have to admit that this is a feat that a cat can never achieve.

Therefore, no matter how much my master plays with strange words and deeds that are worthy of detailed description around the clock, it is very regrettable that he does not have the ability and patience to inform the readers one by one.

It is regrettable, but it cannot be helped.

Even a cat needs rest.

After Suzuki and Meitei left, the wind suddenly stopped, and it became as quiet as a night of falling snow.

As usual, my master withdrew to his study.

The children sleep in the six-mat room with their pillows side by side.

In the south-facing room, separated by a sliding door, the wife lies down with her three-year-old daughter, Menko.

The day, which had been hastening to its close under the cloudy sky, was now fast sinking, and the sound of geta passing along the street outside could be heard in the living room as clearly as if it were in the palm of one's hand.

The sound of a flute being played in a boarding house in the next town, now stopping, now starting, occasionally gave a dull stimulus to my sleepy ears.

It must be misty outside.

A stomach that has emptied a half-penny's worth of boiled abalone for supper needs rest.

 I have heard that there is a phenomenon in the world called cat love, and that in the spring there are nights when the cats in the neighborhood are so restless that they cannot sleep, but I have never experienced such a mental change.

Love is a cosmic force.

It is the nature of all things, from the god Jupiter in heaven to the earthworms and frogs in the earth, to be in a state of flux, so it is not unreasonable for us to be in a state of flux.

In retrospect, I have also been in love with a calico cat.

It is rumored that even the daughter of Mr. Kaneda, the founder of the triangle theory, Tomiko of Abekawa, was in love with Mr. Kangetsu.

That is why I have no intention of despising the fact that all the female and male cats in the world are going crazy on a spring night, but I can't help it because I don't feel that way even if I am invited.

I just want to rest.

I can't fall in love when I'm so sleepy.

I slowly go around to the hem of the child's futon and sleep comfortably.

 When I opened my eyes, I saw that my master had come from his study to his bedroom and was already in the futon next to his wife.

My master has a habit of bringing a small foreign book from his study when he goes to bed.

However, he has never read more than two pages of this book in a row.

Sometimes he just brings it and puts it by his pillow, and doesn't even touch it.

If he doesn't read a single line, there's no need to bring it, but that's what makes him the master, and no matter how much his wife laughs or tells him to stop, he never listens.

Every night he goes to the trouble of bringing a book he doesn't read to the bedroom.

Sometimes he gets greedy and brings three or four books.

The other day he even brought Webster's big dictionary every night.

I think this is a disease of the master, and just as a luxurious person cannot sleep without hearing the sound of the pine wind in Ryubundo, so the master cannot sleep without putting a book at his bedside.

It is a typeset sleeping pill.

 When I peeked to see if there was anything tonight, a thin red book was lying half open in a position where it could be caught by the tip of my master's mustache.

Judging from the fact that the thumb of my master's left hand is still caught between the pages of the book, it seems that he has read five or six lines tonight.

Along with the red book, as usual, the nickel pocket watch is emitting a cold color that does not suit spring.

 The wife has thrown the baby about a foot away, opened her mouth, snored, and removed the pillow.

I don't think there is anything more unsightly in a human being than sleeping with his mouth open.

Cats have never been so embarrassed in their lives.

Originally, the mouth is a tool for making sounds and the nose is a tool for breathing air.

However, if you go to the north, there are some people who are lazy and try to save their mouths as much as possible, and as a result, they use their noses to speak, but I think it is more unsightly than that to block their noses and breathe only with their mouths.

First of all, it is dangerous when rat feces fall from the ceiling.

 When I looked at the children, they were lying down in a state of affairs that was not inferior to their parents.

The elder sister, Tokiko, stretched out her right hand and put it on her sister's ear, as if to say that this was the right of the elder sister.

The younger sister, Sunko, in revenge, raised one leg on her sister's belly and stepped back.

Both sides have rotated ninety degrees from the position they were in when they went to bed.

Moreover, while maintaining this unnatural posture, both of them are sleeping soundly without complaining.

 As expected, the spring lights are exceptional.

Behind this innocent but unrefined scene, it seems to shine brightly as if to regret the good night.

I wonder what time it is, and when I look around the room, all I can hear is the ticking of the clock, the snoring of my wife, and the sound of the maid's teeth grinding in the distance.

This maid is a woman who always denies it when people say she grinds her teeth.

I have never been aware of grinding my teeth since I was born, and I will never say that I will correct it or that I am sorry, but I just insist that I have no such awareness.

Indeed, it is an art that is done while sleeping, so there must be no awareness.

However, it is troublesome because there are things that exist even if there is no awareness.

There are people in the world who do bad things and think that they are good people.

This is innocent and fine because I am confident that I am not guilty, but no matter how innocent I am, I cannot destroy the fact that people are in trouble.

I think these gentlemen and ladies belong to the lineage of this maid.

 Someone knocked on the kitchen shutter twice.

I wonder who it could be at this time of night.

It's probably the usual mouse. If it's a mouse, I've decided not to catch it, so it's okay to go wild.

There was another knock.

It doesn't sound like a mouse.

Even for a mouse, it's a very cautious mouse.

The mice in my master's house are like the students in the school where my master works. They are always practicing violence and outrage, day and night, and they know it is their duty to disturb my master's pitiful dreams.

That was definitely not a mouse.

It's too timid for a mouse that has even invaded my master's bedroom, gnawed at the tip of his nose, and retreated with a triumphant song.

It's definitely not a mouse.

Now there is a sound of lifting the storm shutter from bottom to top, and at the same time, the sliding door is slid along the groove as slowly as possible.

It's definitely not a mouse.

It's a human.

If a human being comes to visit at this late hour without asking for an invitation and unlocking the door, it is definitely not Meitei or Suzuki.

I wonder if it is a thief whose name I have heard of.

If it is a thief, I would like to see his face soon.

The thief seems to have taken two steps forward with his big muddy feet on the kitchen floor.

When I thought he was taking his third step, he kicked the cutting board and made a sound that echoed in the night.

I feel as if the hair on my back was rubbed with a shoe brush.

There is no sound of footsteps for a while.

When I look at the wife, she is still breathing in and out the peaceful air with her mouth open.

The master is probably dreaming of his thumb being caught in the red book.

Soon, I hear the sound of matches being rubbed in the kitchen.

Even a ninja doesn't seem to have as good night vision as I do.

It must be inconvenient and uncomfortable.

 At this time, I crouched and thought.

Will the ninja appear from the kitchen to the living room, or will he turn left and pass through the entrance to the study?

The footsteps went out to the veranda with the sound of the sliding door.

The ninja finally entered the study.

There was no sound after that.

 I finally realized that I wanted to wake up my master and his wife as soon as possible, but I didn't know how to do it.

I thought I'd try shaking the hem of the futon, but it didn't work at all.

I thought I'd rub my cold nose against his cheek, but when I brought it to the front of his face, he stretched out his hand and pushed my nose away.

The nose is a vital point for cats.

It hurts a lot.

This time I had no choice but to meow twice to wake him up, but for some reason, at this time, something stuck in my throat and I couldn't make the sound I wanted.

I was surprised when I finally managed to make a low sound.

The master didn't seem to wake up, but suddenly I heard the footsteps of a shadow.

It's coming closer along the eaves.

It's finally here, I've given up, I'll hide between the sliding door and the wicker trunk for a while and see what happens.

 The shadow's footsteps came to the front of the bedroom door and stopped.

I held my breath and wondered what he would do next.

I thought about it later, but when I catch a mouse, I can't feel like this, my soul is about to jump out of both eyes.

I am truly grateful to the shadow for opening my eyes to a once-in-a-lifetime enlightenment.

Suddenly, the middle of the three eyes of the shoji changed color as if it had been wet by the rain.

I thought that the light pink thing gradually became darker through it, and the paper was torn someday, and I saw a red tongue.

The tongue disappears into the dark for a while.

Instead, something terribly shining appears on the other side of the torn hole.

It is undoubtedly the eye of the shadow.

Strangely, I felt that the eyes were not looking at anything in the room, but only at me who was hiding behind the willow luggage.

It was less than a minute, but I thought that my life would be shortened if I was glared at like this.

When I decided to jump out of the shadow of the luggage because I could not stand it anymore, the sliding door of the bedroom opened and the shadow I had been waiting for finally appeared in front of me.

 In the order of narration, I have the honor to introduce the unexpected rare guest, the thief, to you at this time, but before that, I would like to express my humble opinion and ask for your consideration.

The ancient god is worshipped as omniscient and omnipotent.

In particular, the God of Christianity has been wearing this omniscient and omnipotent mask even today in the twentieth century.

However, the omniscience and omnipotence that the laymen think of can sometimes be interpreted as ignorance and incompetence.

This is clearly a paradox.

However, when I think that I am the only one who has revealed this paradox since the beginning of the world, I feel a sense of vanity that I am not a bad cat, so I would like to tell you the reason here and tell you that you cannot make a fool of cats. I want to beat it into the minds of all the proud humans.

It seems that God created the universe, and if so, humans must also be God's creation.

In fact, it seems that the Bible clearly states that this is the case.

Now, about this human being, there is a fact that human beings themselves have accumulated observations for thousands of years, and at the same time as they are greatly mysterious, they have become more and more inclined to recognize the omniscience and omnipotence of God.

It is none other than that, even though there are so many humans, there is not a single person in the world who has the same face.

The tools of the face are of course limited, and the size is generally similar.

In other words, they are all made from the same material, and even though they are made from the same material, not a single one has the same result.

When I think that someone came up with such a strange face with such simple materials, I can't help but admire the skill of the manufacturer.

Such a change cannot be made without a very original imagination.

If we infer that a generation of painters can only produce twelve or thirteen kinds of faces, even if they exhaust their energy in search of change, we cannot help but marvel at the skill of God, who has taken on the manufacture of human beings single-handedly.

It is a skill that cannot be witnessed in human society, so it can be called an omnipotent skill.

In this respect, humans seem to be greatly in awe of God, and from the human point of view, this is indeed a reasonable way to be in awe.

However, from the cat's point of view, the same fact can be interpreted as proving God's incompetence.

I think it can be concluded that even if he is not totally incompetent, he is certainly not more capable than a human being.

It is said that God created as many faces as there are people, but I wonder if he had a plan in mind from the beginning and showed such a change, or if he tried to make the same face for cats and ladles, but it did not go well and he failed to make them and fell into this chaotic state.

The structure of their faces can be seen as a memorial to God's success, but also as a trace of his failure.

He may be called omnipotent, but there is no harm in calling him incompetent.

It is a pity that only half of the things can be seen in the line of sight because their human eyes are arranged in two on a flat surface and they cannot see the left and right at the same time.

If you look at it from a different perspective, this simple fact is happening in their society day and night, but the person himself is upside down and swallowed by God, so there is no way to realize it.

If it is difficult to show change in production, it is equally difficult to show thorough imitation on it.

Ordering Raphael to paint two pictures of the Virgin Mary that are exactly the same would be as annoying to Raphael as forcing him to show a pair of Madonnas that are not at all alike, or it might be more difficult to paint two of the same thing.

It may be more difficult to ask Kobo Daishi to write "Kukai" in the same style as he wrote yesterday than to ask him to change the style of writing.

The national language used by humans is entirely imitative and traditional.

When they learn practical language from their mothers, nurses, and others, they have no ambition but to repeat what they have heard.

They imitate others as much as they can.

The fact that the pronunciation of the national language, which is established by imitation, naturally changes over the course of ten or twenty years proves that they are not capable of perfect imitation.

Pure imitation is so difficult.

Therefore, if God could have made them all alike, like turtles with a brand mark, it would have been a manifestation of God's omnipotence, and at the same time, the fact that they have been allowed to change so drastically, with their faces exposed to the sun, could be a tool to infer his incompetence.

 I forgot why I had to make such an argument.

Forgetting books is a common thing even for humans, so I hope you will forgive me for being a cat.

Anyway, when I opened the sliding door of the bedroom and saw the thief on the threshold, the above impression naturally came to my mind.

Why did it spring up?

If you ask me why, I have to reconsider it.

Well, the reason is this.

 When I saw the face of the thief who appeared in front of me, I had a doubt that the work of God was the result of incompetence, but it had a feature that was enough to deny it at once.

The feature is nothing else.

The fact that his eyebrows are exactly the same as my dear good-looking man, Mizushima Kangetsu.

I don't have many acquaintances with thieves, but I have a face that I usually imagined and privately drew in my heart from the violent part of the act.

I decided on my own that it was a chestnut head with eyes about the size of a penny copper coin deployed to the left and right of the nose, but seeing and thinking is the difference between heaven and earth, and imagination is never strong.

This shadow is a tall, dark-colored, one-letter eyebrow, a fine thief.

He may be twenty-six or seven years old, and even that is a sketch of Kangetsu.

If God has the skill to make two such similar faces, he can never be seen as incompetent.

No, to tell the truth, I was so surprised that I thought that Kangetsu himself had gone crazy and jumped out in the middle of the night.

However, I noticed that he was a different person because he did not have a dark beard under his nose.

Kangetsu is a bitter-looking good man, and a work of art that is enough to absorb Miss Tomiko Kaneda, who is called an active check by Meitei.

However, when observing this Yinshi from his physiognomy, he never gives way to Kangetsu in his gravitational action on the woman.

If Kaneda's daughter is lost in Kangetsu's eyes or lips, she must fall in love with this thief with the same degree of heat.

Anyway, it doesn't make sense.

He is so talented and quick-witted that he will surely understand this without being told by others.

If you look at it, even if you offer this thief instead of Kangetsu, you will surely be able to give your full love and raise the fruit of the harmony of the koto and the koto.

Even if Kangetsu is moved by the sermon of Meitei and the good relationship of the ages is broken, it is safe as long as this shadow is alive.

I predicted the development of the future incident to this point, and finally felt relieved for Miss Tomiko.

The existence of this thief between heaven and earth is a major requirement for the happiness of Miss Tomiko's life.

 The shadow is holding something in his arms.

It is an old blanket that my master threw into the study a while ago.

She is wearing a cotton kimono, with a Hakata obi from the closet tied over her buttocks, and her pale shins are exposed from the knees down, and now she raises one leg and puts it on the tatami.

My master, who had been dreaming of having his finger bitten by a red book, turned over and shouted, "It's Kangets!"

The shadow dropped the blanket and quickly pulled back his leg.

I can see two long, thin shins standing in the shadow of the shoji, moving slightly.

My master pushed away the red book, saying, "Hmm, mumble, mumble," and scratched his black arm as if he had a skin disease.

After that, he fell silent and fell asleep without his pillow.

It seems that he was talking in his sleep when he said it was Kangets.

The shadow stood by the side of the room for a while, watching the movement of the room, but after seeing the master and his wife sleeping soundly, he put one foot on the tatami again.

This time, I didn't hear a voice saying it was Kangetsu.

Eventually, he stepped in with his other foot.

The six-tatami room, which was richly illuminated by a single spring light, was sharply divided in two by the shadow of the shadow, and half of the wall from the side of the willow trunk over my head became black.

When I turned around, the shadow of the shadow's face was moving vaguely at just two-thirds of the height of the wall.

Even a handsome man looks like a monster with eight heads when you only see his shadow.

The shadow looked down at the sleeping face of the wife and grinned for some reason.

I was surprised that even the way of laughing was a copy of Mr. Kangetsu.

 At the bedside of the wife, a nailed box of about four inches square and about one foot and five or six inches is placed carefully.

This is a mountain yam that Mr. Sanpei Tatara, a resident of Karatsu in Hizen Province, brought as a souvenir when he returned home the other day.

It is not a common story to sleep with a mountain yam at the bedside, but this wife is a woman who lacks the idea of ​​appropriateness of the place to put the three bowls used for simmered dishes in a chest of drawers, so for the wife, the mountain yam is foolish, and Takuan may be fine even in the bedroom.

But the shadow warrior who is not a god cannot know such a woman.

It is no wonder that it is judged to be an important item as long as it is placed so close to the skin.

The shadow warrior raised the box of mountain yams for a moment, but its weight seemed to be quite heavy in line with the shadow warrior's expectations, so he was very satisfied.

When I thought that he was finally going to steal the mountain yam, and that this good-looking man was going to steal the mountain yam, I suddenly felt strange.

However, it is dangerous to make a sound, so I am holding back.

 Eventually, the shadow warrior began to wrap the box of mountain yams in an old blanket respectfully.

I look around to see if there is anything to get tangled in.

Fortunately, there is a crepe Heiko belt that my master untied when he went to bed.

The shadow warrior tied the box of mountain yams tightly with this belt and put it on his back without any difficulty.

It is not a style that women like very much.

Then, when I stuffed two of the children's chanchanko into my master's Meriyasu hakama, the area around the crotch swelled roundly, like a blue general swallowing a frog--or perhaps it would be better described as a blue general's pregnancy.

Anyway, it looked strange.

If you think it's a lie, you should try it.

The shadow warrior wrapped the Meriyasu around his neck.

I wondered what to do next, so I spread out my master's tsumugi jacket like a large furoshiki and wrapped it neatly with his wife's obi, his haori, his haori, and all sorts of other miscellaneous items.

I was also a little impressed by the skill and dexterity of the way it was done.

Then he tied the bundle with his wife's obi and shigoki and hung it in one hand.

He looked around to see if there was anything else he could take, and when he found a bag of Asahi at the head of his master's head, he threw it into his sleeve.

He also took one out of the bag, held it to the lamp, and lit it.

While the smoke that he had inhaled deeply and exhaled, still lingering around the milky glass, the sound of the shadow's footsteps gradually faded away from the eaves.

The master and his wife are still fast asleep.

Humans are also unexpectedly迂濶.

 I need a rest again.

I can't keep up with my body if I keep talking.

When I woke up, the sky of Yayoi was clear and the master and his wife were talking with a policeman at the back door.

 "Then, you crawled in from here and went to the bedroom.

You were sleeping and didn't notice at all."

 "Yes," the master seems a little embarrassed.

 "So when was the theft?" the policeman asked an unreasonable question.

If you know the time, you don't need to be stolen.

The master and his wife, who are not aware of it, are constantly consulting on this question.

 "What time is it?"

 "Well," the wife thinks.

She seems to think that she can tell the time by thinking.

 "What time did you go to bed last night?"

 "I went to bed later than you."

 "Yes, I went to bed earlier than you."

 "What time did you wake up?"

 "It was 7:30."

 "Then, what time did the thief come in?"

 "It must have been in the middle of the night."

 "I know it was in the middle of the night, but what time was it?"

 "I'm not sure until I think about it carefully." The wife still intends to think about it.

The policeman asked only as a formality, so he didn't care when the thief came in.

He was expecting a casual answer, even a lie, but the couple were having a pointless conversation, so he seemed to be getting a little impatient.

 "Then the time of the theft is unknown," he said, and the master said in his usual tone,

 "Well, that's right," he answered.

The policeman didn't laugh.

 "Well, on such and such a date in the 38th year of Meiji, I locked the door and went to bed, but a thief removed the storm shutters and crept in and stole a number of items, so I am filing a complaint."

It's not a report, it's a complaint.

It's better not to have an addressee."

 "Do I have to write down each and every item?"

 "Yes, you have to make a list of the items, such as how many haori and how much they cost.

No, there's no point in going in.

It's already been stolen."

 My master brought his writing materials into the middle of the room and called his wife. "I'm going to write a report of the theft, so tell me everything that was stolen.

Come on, tell me," he said in a tone as if he were quarreling.

 "Oh, I don't like it. Who would say such a thing with such authority?" she said, and sat down with her obi still wrapped around her.

 "What's that style? You look like a failed prostitute.

Why don't you come out with your obi on?"

 "If this is bad, please buy it.

If it's stolen, it can't be helped, even if it's a prostitute."

 "Did he take your obi too? What a cruel guy.

Then I'll write it down from the obi.

What kind of obi is it?"

 "What kind of obi? I don't have that many. It's a black satin and crepe obi."

 "One black satin and crepe obi--how much is it worth?"

 "About six yen."

 "You're wearing a pretty expensive obi for a brat.

From now on, make it one yen fifty sen."

 "There's no such obi.

That's why I say you're heartless.

You don't care how shabby your wife looks as long as you're all right."

 "Well, what then?"

 "It's a silk-woven haori. I got it from my aunt in Kono. It's different from the silk-woven haori of today."

 "I don't need to hear such a lecture.

How much is it?"

 "Fifteen yen."

 "It's not appropriate for you to wear a haori that costs fifteen yen."

 "It's okay, I'll buy it for you."

 "What's next?"

 "A pair of black tabi."

 "Yours?"

 "Yours."

"The price is twenty-seven sen."

 "And then?"

 "A box of yam."

 "Did he take the yam too?"

"Is he going to boil it or make it into tororo soup?"

 "I don't know what he's going to do with it."

"Go and ask the thief."

 "How much is it?"

 "I don't know the price of the yam."

 "Then, let's make it about 12 yen 50 sen."

 "That's ridiculous. No matter how far it's been dug up from Karatsu, a yam can't cost 12 yen 50 sen."

 "But you said you didn't know."

 "I don't know, but 12 yen 50 sen is outrageous."

 "What do you mean by saying you don't know but 12 yen 50 sen is outrageous?

That's completely illogical.

That's why I call you a fool."

 "What?"

 "A fool."

 "What's that?"

 "Never mind.

And then--

I'm afraid my clothes will never come out."

 "I'll do anything else.

Please tell me the meaning of Otantin Paleologus."

 "It has no meaning."

 "You might as well tell me. You must think me a fool.

You must have said something nasty about me, thinking I didn't know English."

 "Don't talk nonsense. Go on with your story.

You'll never get your things back unless you report the theft at once."

 "It's too late to report it now.

Instead, please teach me about Otantin Paleologos."

 "You're a nuisance. I tell you it means nothing."

 "Then there's nothing left."

 "You're a fool.

Then do as you please.

I'm not going to write a theft complaint."

 "I won't tell you the number of items.

I don't need you to write the complaint because you're the one who's going to file it."

 "Then I'll give it up," said my master, and as usual he stood up and went into his study.

The wife withdrew to the living room and sat down in front of her sewing box.

For about ten minutes, both of them did nothing but stare at the screen in silence.

 Then, the donor of the mountain yam, Sanpei Tatara, came up, opening the front door with a flourish.

Sanpei Tatara was originally a student in this house, but now he has graduated from law school and is employed in the mining department of a company.

This is also the beginning of a businessman, and he is a junior student of Tojuro Suzuki.

Sanpei-kun is so close to this family that he sometimes visits his former teacher's hut and spends the whole day playing on Sundays.

 "Ma'am.

It's a nice day," he said in a Karatsu dialect or something, and kneeled in front of his wife in his pants.

 "Oh, Mr. Tatara."

 "Where has the teacher gone?"

 "No, he's in his study."

 "Ma'am, it's poisonous to study like the teacher.

It's a rare Sunday, you know."

 "It's no use telling me, you should tell the teacher."

 "That's true, but..." Sanpei started to say, and then looked around the room. "I don't see the young lady today," he said, half to his wife, and no sooner had he said it than Tonko and Sunko came running out of the next room.

 "Mr. Tatara, did you bring the sushi today?" the older sister Tonko asked, remembering the promise he had made the other day, as soon as she saw Sanpei's face.

Tatara scratched his head.

 "You have a good memory. I'll bring it next time.

I forgot today," he confessed.

 "I don't want to," said the older sister, and the younger sister immediately imitated her, "I don't want to."

The wife finally cheered up and smiled a little.

 "I didn't bring any sushi, but I did give you some yam.

Did you eat it, miss?"

 "What's yam?" asked the older sister.

The younger sister imitated her again.

"What's yam?" she asked Sanpei.

 "Haven't you eaten it yet? Ask your mother to cook it for you.

The yam in Karatsu is different from that in Tokyo. It's delicious." Sanpei was proud of his hometown.

 "Mr. Tatara, thank you for your kindness the other day."

 "How was it? I had a box made to order so that it wouldn't break, and I packed it tightly, so it should have been long."

 "But the yam I brought down was stolen by a thief last night."

 "A thief?"

What a fool he is.

Is there a man who likes yams so much?"

Sanpei was greatly impressed.

 "Mother, did a thief break in last night?" my sister asked.

 "Yes," the wife answered lightly.

 "A thief broke in--and--a thief broke in--what kind of face did he have?" my sister asked.

The wife didn't know how to answer this strange question.

 "He had a scary face," she answered, and looked at Mr. Tatara.

 "A scary face, like Mr. Tatara's?" my sister asked, without any sympathy.

 "What is it?

That's rude."

 "Hahaha, is my face that scary?

That's a problem." He scratched his head.

There is a bald spot about an inch in diameter on the back of Mr. Tatara's head.

It started a month ago and he had a doctor look at it, but it doesn't seem to be healing easily.

The first person to find this bald spot was his sister Tonko.

 "Oh, Mr. Tatara's head is shining like your mother's."

 "I told you to be quiet."

 "Mother, the thief's head last night was also shining." This is the sister's question.

The wife and Tatara burst out laughing, but they were too annoyed to talk, so they said, "Come on, you guys, go out into the garden and play.

I'll give you some good sweets soon." The wife finally drove the children away.

 "What happened to your head, Tatara?" she asked seriously.

 "A bug ate it.

It doesn't heal easily.

Do you have a wife?"

 "Oh, my, a bug ate it. Well, the part where the topknot is tied is a little bald because I'm a woman."

 "Baldness is all bacteria."

 "Mine is not bacteria."

 "Well, you want to be stubborn."

 "It's not bacteria at all."

But what do you call baldness in English?"

 "Baldness is called bald."

 "No, that's not it. There's a longer name."

 "If you ask the teacher, you'll know right away."

 "The teacher won't tell me, so I'm asking you."

 "I don't know any other name than bald."

How long is it?"

 "It's called Otantin Paleologus."

Otantin is the character for bald, and Paleologus is the character for head."

 "That may be so."

I'll go to the master's study and look it up in Webster's.

But the master has changed a lot.

On such a fine day, to stay indoors--his stomach will never get better, madam.

You should suggest that he go to Ueno to see the cherry blossoms."

 "You take him out.

He never listens to what a woman says."

 "Do you still lick jam?"

 "Yes, as usual."

 "The other day, he spilled it.

My wife says I lick jam too much, but I don't think so.

I think she's wrong. I think your daughter and wife must be licking it too."

 "You're a bad man, Mr. Tatara. Why do you say such a thing?"

 "But your wife looks like she'd lick it too."

 "How can you tell that from her face?"

 "I don't know. But does your wife never lick it?"

 "Well, she does lick it a little."

What's wrong with licking it?

It's her own."

 "Hahaha, I thought so. But about the books, the thief was a great nuisance.

Did he take only the yams?"

 "If it were only yams, I wouldn't mind, but he took all my everyday clothes."

 "Are you in trouble already?

Do you have to borrow money again?

If only this cat were a dog, what a pity.

You should get a big dog.

Cats are useless, they just eat. Does it catch mice?"

 "It has never caught a single mouse.

It's a really lazy and impudent cat."

 "Well, that's a shame.

You should get rid of it soon.

I'll take it home and cook it."

 "Oh, do you eat cats, Mr. Tatara?"

 "I have.

Cats are delicious."

 "You're quite a hero."

 I had heard that there were some barbarians among the lower class of students who ate cats, but I never dreamed that Mr. Tatara, whom I had always been so kind to, was one of them.

Moreover, he was no longer a student, but a full-fledged Bachelor of Laws, though he had graduated only recently, and an official of the Mitsui Trading Company.

The proverb that says, "When you see a man, think of him as a thief," has already been proved by the actions of the second generation of Kangets, but the truth that when you see a man, think of him as a cat-eater, is a truth that I have only come to understand thanks to Mr. Tatara.

The more you live, the more you learn, and the more you learn, the more you enjoy, but the more dangerous it becomes day by day, and the more you have to be on your guard.

To become cunning, to become mean, to wear a double-sided protective suit, all these are the result of knowing things, and knowing things is the sin of getting old.

This is the reason why there are no good old people. I was thinking that it might be better for me to attain Buddhahood in Tatara's pot with onions, and was shrinking into a corner, when my master, who had quarreled with his wife and retired to his study, heard Tatara's voice and came out to the tea room.

 "I hear you met a thief, sir.

What a foolish thing to do," he said.

 "The one who crawled in is a fool," said the master, who always considered himself a wise man.

 "The one who crawled in is a fool, but the one who was robbed is not very smart either."

 "The wisest person is the one who has nothing to be robbed of, like Mr. Tatara," said the wife, this time taking the side of her husband.

 "But the biggest fool is this cat.

What a fool he is.

He doesn't catch mice, and he doesn't even notice when a thief comes in.

"Sensei, would you give me this cat?"

He's useless."

 "You can do it.

What are you going to do?"

 "I'll boil and eat it."

 My master, hearing this fierce remark, gave a sickly smile, but made no reply.

My master soon changed the subject,

 "I don't care about the cat, but I'm cold because my clothes were taken away."

Indeed, it must be cold.

Until yesterday he was wearing two layers of cotton, but today he is wearing only a short-sleeved shirt, and since he has not exercised since morning, his insufficient blood is working for his stomach and not circulating to his hands and feet at all.

 "I can't be a teacher.

Even if I meet a thief, I'm in trouble.

Why don't you change your mind and become a businessman?"

 "He doesn't like businessmen, so it's no use saying that."

 The wife replied to Tatara from the side.

The wife, of course, wants him to become a businessman.

 "How many years have you been out of school?"

 "This is the ninth year, isn't it?" the wife looked back at her husband.

The husband didn't say yes or no.

 "After nine years, your salary hasn't increased.

No matter how much I study, no one praises me, and I'm lonely." I recited a poem I learned in junior high school for my wife, but she didn't understand it, so she didn't answer.

 "I don't like teachers, of course, but I don't like businessmen even more." The husband seems to be thinking in the back of his mind what he likes.

 "You don't like anything, do you?"

 "Is your wife the only one you don't hate?" said Tatara, making a joke that didn't suit his character.

 "I hate her the most."

The husband's answer is most concise.

The wife turned aside and paused for a moment, but then looked back at her husband.

 "You must hate being alive," she said, thinking she had thoroughly deflated her husband.

 "I don't like it much," he replied unexpectedly cheerfully.

There's no way to handle this.

 "Sensei, if you don't take a brisk walk, you'll ruin your health.

--and become a businessman.

Making money is a piece of cake."

 "You don't make any money."

 "You just joined the company last year.

I still have more savings than you."

 "How much have you saved?" she asked eagerly.

 "I've already saved fifty yen."

 "How much is your monthly salary?" she asked.

 "Thirty yen.

The company saves five yen of it every month and gives it to me when I need it.

"Ma'am, why don't you buy some shares of the Outer Moat Line with your pocket money?

If you have just a little money, it will soon double or triple."

 "If I had that much money, I wouldn't be worried about meeting a thief."

 "That's why I say it's limited to businessmen.

If you had studied law and gone into a company or a bank, you would have an income of three or four hundred yen a month by now.

Do you know that engineer, Tojuro Suzuki?"

 "Yes, he came yesterday."

 "Is that so? When I met him at a party the other day, I told him about you, and he said, "Oh, you were a student at Mr. Kushami's place, weren't you? I used to cook with him at a temple in Koishikawa. Please give him my best regards when you go there next time. I'll visit him soon."

 "I hear he's come to Tokyo recently."

 "Yes, he was in a coal mine in Kyushu, but he was transferred to Tokyo the other day."

It's quite good.

He talks to me as if I were his friend.

"How much do you think he gets, teacher?"

 "I don't know."

 "His salary is 250 yen a month, and he gets a bonus at the end of the year, so he gets an average of 450 yen a month."

"A man like that gets so much, and you, teacher, are a specialist in English literature and get only ten yen a month.

 "It's really ridiculous." Even a detached person like my master has the same idea of money as ordinary people.

No, he may want money more than others because he is poor.

Since Tatara had already talked enough about the benefits of being a businessman,

 "Madam, does a man called Mizushima Kangetsu come to the teacher's house?"

 "Yes, he often comes."

 "What kind of person is he?"

 "He seems to be a very learned person."

 "Is he a good-looking man?"

 "Ho ho ho, he's about as good-looking as you, Mr. Tatara."

 "Is that so? As good-looking as me?" said Mr. Tatara seriously.

 "How do you know the name of Kangets?" asked my master.

 "The other day, I was asked by someone.

Is he a person worth asking such a thing?"

Mr. Tatara was already more serious than Kangetsu even before he heard the story.

 "He's a much greater man than you."

 "Is that so, he's greater than me?" he said, neither laughing nor getting angry.

This is Mr. Tatara's characteristic.

 "Will you become a doctor soon?"

 "I hear he's writing a thesis now."

 "You're still a fool.

I thought you were a person who could talk a little more, writing a doctoral thesis."

 "As usual, you have a great insight," said the wife with a laugh.

 "They were saying that if he became a doctor, they would give him someone's daughter or not, so I told him that there was no such fool, that it would be better to give her to me than to give her to such a person who would become a doctor to get a daughter."

 "To whom?"

 "The man who asked me to ask about Mizushima."

 "Isn't it Suzuki?"

 "No, I can't say that to him yet."

"He's a big shot."

 "Mr. Tatara is a coward."

"He's a big shot when he comes to our house, but he's a coward in front of Mr. Suzuki."

 "Yes."

"It's dangerous."

 "Tatara, shall we go for a walk?" my master suddenly said.

He had been feeling cold in his unlined kimono, and thought that a little exercise would warm him up.

The happy-go-lucky Tatara, of course, had no hesitation.

 "Let's go.

Shall we go to Ueno?

Shall we go to Imozaka and eat dumplings?

Have you ever eaten dumplings there, teacher?

You should go and try them once, wife.

They are soft and cheap.

I’ll give you some sake too.”

While I was rambling on in my usual disorderly fashion, my master had already put on his hat and was going down to the entrance.

 I need a little rest again.

I have no need to investigate what my master and Tatara did in Ueno Park, or how many plates of dumplings they ate at Imozaka, and I have no courage to follow them, so I will skip that part and take a rest.

Rest is a right that should be demanded from the heavens of all things.

Those who have the duty to live in this world must have rest in order to fulfill their duty to live.

If there is a god and he says, "You were born to work, not to sleep," I will answer him, "I was born to work, as you say, so I ask for rest in order to work."

Even a man as strong as my master, who has complained to the machine, sometimes takes a rest on his own expense other than Sundays.

It is a matter of course that a person like me, who is sensitive and resentful and works hard day and night, needs more rest than my master, even though I am a cat.

However, I am a little worried that Mr. Tatara just cursed me as if I were a luxury that has no ability other than rest.

It is troublesome that the common people, who are often used only for material objects, have no activity other than the stimulation of the five senses, and do not go beyond the form even when evaluating others.

They think that they are not working unless they cut corners and sweat.

It is said that a monk named Daruma sat in meditation until his legs rotted, but even if he did not move until the ivy crawled through the gap in the wall and blocked the eyes and mouth of the master, he was neither sleeping nor dead.

My mind is always active, and I am thinking about the logic of the廓然無聖.

It seems that there is also a Confucian way of sitting still.

This is not to shut oneself up in a room and practice the art of sitting still.

The vitality in the brain is burning more intensely than others.

However, since they appear to be extremely calm and dignified, the world's ordinary eyes regard these intellectual giants as mediocre people in a coma or suspended animation, and raise their voices in unnecessary slander, such as useless objects or grain crushing.

These ordinary eyes are all born with a defective vision that sees the form but not the mind, and yet he is a first-rate person who sees the form but not the mind, so it is no wonder that this Sanpei sees me as a dry shit, but I regret that even the master, who has read a little of the ancient and modern books and can understand the truth of things a little, agrees with the shallow Sanpei without a second thought, and there is no sign of a fault in the cat pot.

But if I take a step back and think about it, it is not unreasonable for them to despise me so much.

The loud voice does not enter the ears of the people, and the poem of the spring and white snow has few things to harmonize with.

To force those who cannot see activities other than the physical form to see the brilliance of their own spirit is like forcing a priest to tie his hair, like telling a tuna to make a speech, like demanding a derailment of an electric railway, like advising a master to resign, like telling Sanpei not to think about money.

It is an unreasonable order.

However, even cats are social animals.

As long as it is a social animal, no matter how high it is, it must be in harmony with society to some extent.

It is regrettable that the master, the wife, O-san, and Sanpei do not evaluate me as I am, but it is a serious matter if they do something unreasonable like peeling my skin and selling it to a shamisen shop, or chopping my meat and serving it to Tatara-kun.

I am a very important cat, having been born in this world with a mission to use my head.

There is a proverb that says that a child of a thousand gold does not sit at the edge of the hall, so if you like to be a super-master and seek danger in vain, it is not only a disaster for yourself, but also a great violation of the will of heaven.

A fierce tiger, if put in a zoo, will occupy a place next to a dung pig, and a wild goose, if caught alive in a birdhouse, will share the same table with a chick.

As long as I interact with ordinary people, I must become an ordinary cat.

If I want to be an ordinary cat, I must catch mice.

——I finally decided to catch a mouse.

 I hear that Japan has been in a great war with Russia since the other day.

I am a Japanese cat, so of course I am a Japanophile.

If possible, I would like to organize a mixed cat brigade and scratch the Russian soldiers.

As I am so energetic, I can catch a mouse or two even if I am sleeping, as long as I have the will to catch them.

In the past, someone asked a famous Zen master at the time, "How can I be enlightened?" and he answered, "Like a cat watching a mouse."

Like a cat catching a mouse means that if you do this, you will never miss.

There is a proverb that says "A woman is too clever," but there is no proverb that says "A cat is too clever and misses a mouse."

So, no matter how clever I am, I can't catch a mouse.

I can't catch a mouse, let alone miss it.

I haven't caught a mouse yet because I don't want to.

The spring day was over as it was yesterday, and the cherry blossoms, which were invited by the wind from time to time, flew in through the tear of the kitchen's waist shoji, and the shadow floating in the hand bucket looked white in the light of the dim kitchen lamp.

I decided to do a great job tonight and surprise everyone in the house, so I need to look around the battlefield and swallow the terrain in advance.

Of course, the battle line shouldn't be too wide.

If it is converted to the number of tatami mats, it is about four tatami mats, and one tatami mat is divided into two, half of which is a sink and the other half is a dirt floor where you can listen to the needs of a liquor store and a greengrocer.

The stove is a fine one that does not suit the poor, and the red copper pot is shiny, and the back is the location of my abalone, leaving two feet between the paneling.

The six feet near the tea room is a cupboard for putting in a bowl, a bowl, a small bowl, and a narrow kitchen is divided into a narrow kitchen, and it is at a height that is close to the exposed shelf that is extended sideways.

A mortar is placed on its back under it, and the bottom of a small bucket is facing me in the mortar.

Only the fire extinguisher is quietly waiting beside the radish and the rubbing wood lined up and hung.

A single swivel is lowered from the middle of the crossed black barrel wood, and a large flat basket is hung on the front.

The basket is sometimes swaying in the wind and moving in a hawk.

I had no idea what the basket was for when I first came to this house, but when I learned that food was deliberately put in here because it was out of reach of cats, I felt the meanness of humans.

 Now, I'm going to make a plan.

Where to fight the mice? Of course, it must be where the mice come out.

No matter how convenient the terrain is, it's not a war if you're waiting alone.

Here, it is necessary to study the exit of the mice.

I wonder where they will come from. I stand in the middle of the kitchen and look around.

I feel like Admiral Togo.

The maid went to the bath and hasn't come back.

The children are sleeping.

My master came back after eating dumplings at Imozakah and is still in his study.

The wife--I don't know what she's doing.

She's probably dozing off and dreaming of yams.

Sometimes a rickshaw passes in front of the gate, but after it passes, it's even more lonely.

My determination, my spirit, the scene of the kitchen, the loneliness of the surroundings, the whole feeling is completely tragic.

I can't help but think of myself as the Admiral Togo of cats.

When one enters such a state, it is the same for everyone to feel a kind of pleasure in the midst of the horror, but I discovered that a great worry lay at the bottom of this pleasure.

I'm prepared to go to war with the mice, so I'm not afraid of how many come, but it's inconvenient that the direction they come from is not clear.

When I put together the information I obtained from my careful observation, I found that there are three routes for the mice to escape.

If they are sewer rats, they must go around the back of the stove from the sink along the clay pipe.

At that time, I'll hide in the shadow of the fire extinguisher and cut off their way back.

Or they may detour through the bathroom and suddenly jump out into the kitchen from the plaster hole that drains the hot water into the gutter.

Then I'll take a position on the lid of the kettle and jump down from above and grab them when they come under my eyes.

Then I looked around again, and I suspected that the lower right corner of the cupboard door was eaten through in a half-moon shape, which might be convenient for them to come in and out.

When I put my nose to it and smelled it, it smelled a little like a rat.

If they charge out from here, I'll let them pass by using the pillar as a shield, and then I'll claw them from the side.

If they come from the ceiling, I look up and see the black soot shining in the light of the lamp, like hell hanging upside down, and I can't go up or down with my skill.

I decided to let my guard down in this area only, as I was sure they wouldn't fall from such a high place.

Even so, there is a concern that they will attack from three sides.

I'll show you how to get rid of them with one eye.

I'm confident that I can do it somehow.

However, when it comes to three holes, I can't do anything about it, no matter how instinctively I'm expected to catch a mouse.

But to ask for help from a black man like a rickshaw driver is a matter of my dignity.

What should I do?

When you think about what to do and don't come up with a good idea, the best way to get peace of mind is to decide that there's no need to worry about it.

Also, one would like to think that there are no people who do not follow the law.

First, look around the world.

The bride I received yesterday may die today, but the bridegroom does not seem to be worried about the auspicious things such as Tamatsubachi and Yachiyo.

It's not that it's not worth worrying about.

No matter how much you worry, there is no law.

In my case, there is no reasonable basis to assert that a three-sided attack will never occur, but it is more convenient to assume that it will not occur in order to gain peace of mind.

Peace of mind is necessary for all things.

I also want peace of mind.

Therefore, I conclude that a three-sided attack will not occur.

 Still, I couldn't get rid of my anxiety, so I gradually thought about it and finally understood.

It is a torment because I am struggling to get a clear answer to the question of which of the three strategies is the best to choose.

When he comes out of the closet, I have a plan to respond to this, when he appears from the bathroom, I have a plan for this, and when he crawls up from the sink, I have a plan to meet him, but I am greatly embarrassed when I have to decide on one of them.

Admiral Togo was greatly worried about whether the Baltic Fleet would pass through the Tsushima Strait, go to the Tsugaru Strait, or go around the Soya Strait far away, but now I imagine from my own situation, I really understand your troubles.

I am not only similar to Admiral Togo in the overall situation, but also in this extraordinary position, I am a person who often shares the same pains as Admiral Togo.

 While I was so absorbed in my strategy, the broken sliding door suddenly opened and the face of the third master came out.

Just because only the face comes out does not mean that there are no hands or feet.

The other parts are not visible at night, but only the face is clearly visible in the bottom of the eyes with a strong color.

The third master returned from the bath with his cheeks redder than usual, and, having learned his lesson from last night, he locked the kitchen door early.

I heard the master's voice in the study saying, "Put my cane by my pillow."

I didn't know why he wanted to decorate his pillow with a cane.

I don't think he's trying to be a hero of Yishui and listen to the dragon's cry.

Yesterday it was a yam, today it's a cane, what will it be tomorrow?

 The night is still young, and the mice are unlikely to come out.

I need a rest before the big battle.

 There is no sliding window in my master's kitchen.

In the living room, a place like a transom is cut out about a foot wide, and it serves as a sliding window in summer and winter.

When I woke up, startled by the wind that blew in, inviting the equinoctial cherry blossoms to scatter without regret, the shadow of the stove hung diagonally on the raised board, even when the hazy moon had come in.

I shook my ears two or three times to see if I had overslept, and I could only hear the sound of the grandfather clock as it was last night.

It's time for the mice to come out.

Where will they come out from?

 There is a sound in the cupboard.

It seems that he is holding the edge of the small plate with his feet and washing the inside.

I'm waiting for them to come out of the hole.

The scenery does not come out easily.

The sound of the plate eventually stopped, but now it seems to have hit a bowl or something, and a heavy sound sometimes makes a sound.

Moreover, it is done immediately on the other side of the door, and it is not even three inches away from my nose.

Sometimes the footsteps approach the mouth of the hole, but there is no one to show up.

The enemy is currently committing violence on the other side of the door, but I have to wait at the exit of the hole.

The mouse is holding a ball in the bowl.

At least, if the third had opened the door enough for me to crawl in, it would have been good, but he is a dull country bumpkin.

 This time, my abalone shell clattered in the shadow of the kitchen stove.

The enemy has come to this area, too. I approached it stealthily, and I saw its tail between the buckets, and it hid under the sink.

After a while, a gargling bowl hit a metal basin in the bathroom.

This time, it’s behind me. As soon as I turned around, a big one, nearly five inches long, dropped a bag of toothpaste and ran under the rafters.

I jumped down after it, but it was nowhere to be seen.

Catching a mouse is more difficult than I thought.

I wonder if I have no innate ability to catch mice.

 When I go to the bathroom, the enemy rushes out of the cupboard, and when I guard the cupboard, it jumps up from the sink, and when I stand in the middle of the kitchen, all three sides make a little noise.

They are not the enemy of a gentleman, whether they are impudent or cowardly.

I tried to run around and work hard, exhausting my mind and heart, but I never succeeded.

Unfortunately, there is no strategy that Admiral Togo can take against such a small man.

At first, I had courage, hostility, and even a sublime sense of beauty called tragic, but in the end, I was tired of being stupid, sleepy, and tired, so I sat in the middle of the kitchen and decided not to move.

However, if you don't move and look around, the enemy is a dwarf, so you can't do much.

When the enemy you thought you were aiming for is a surprisingly stingy bastard, the feeling that war is an honor disappears and only the thought that it is bad remains.

When you pass the thought that it is bad, you lose your competition and become dazed.

After being dazed, do whatever you want, and you will feel sleepy with contempt because you can't do anything clever anyway.

I followed the above path and finally got sleepy.

I sleep.

Rest is necessary even in the enemy.

 From the sliding window that opened sideways to the eaves, I threw a flower storm again, and when I thought that the fierce wind was around me, the one who jumped out of the cupboard like a bullet, if there was time to avoid it, cut the wind and bite my left ear.

The black shadow that follows this hangs on my tail soon after I think it will go around behind.

It is an event in the blink of an eye.

I jump up mechanically without any purpose.

I try to shake off this monster with all my strength in my pores.

The one that bit my ear lost its center and hangs loosely on my profile.

The tip of the soft tail like a rubber tube unexpectedly crawls into my mouth.

I shake it left and right while biting the tail as if to break it, and only the tail remains between the front teeth, and the body hits the wall covered with old newspapers and bounces back on the board.

When I get up and get on it without a gap, it grazes my nose like kicking a ball and stands with its legs shrunk on the edge of the hanging step.

He looks down at me from the shelf, and I look up at him from the floor.

The distance is five feet.

The moonlight shines sideways as if it were a wide belt in the sky.

I put my strength into my forefeet and tried to jump up on the shelf.

Only my forefeet caught the edge of the shelf successfully, but my hind legs are struggling in the air.

The black thing is biting my tail with a force that will not let go even if it dies.

I am in danger.

I tried to deepen my foothold by changing my forefeet.

Every time I change my forefeet, my foothold becomes shallower due to the weight of my tail.

I will fall if I slide for a few minutes.

I am in danger.

I can hear the sound of scratching the shelf with my nails.

I tried to change my left forefoot, but I failed to hang my nails, so I hung from the shelf with one right nail.

My body turns around with the weight of myself and the thing that bites my tail.

The monster on the shelf, which had been watching without moving until this time, jumps down from the shelf like throwing a stone from the shelf, aiming at my forehead.

My nails lose their grip.

The three lumps become one and fall down, cutting the moonlight vertically.

The mortar on the next step, the small bucket in the mortar, and the empty jam can also become a lump, inviting the fire extinguisher below, and rolling half into the water jar and half onto the floor.

Everything made an unusual noise in the middle of the night, and even my soul, which was desperate, was cold.

 "Thief!" The master jumps out of the bedroom with a loud voice.

He is holding a lamp in one hand and a stick in the other, and he is shining a light that is appropriate for his status rather than sleepy eyes.

I crouched quietly beside the abalone.

The two monsters hide in the closet.

The master is idle and asks, "What is it? Who made the loud noise?"

The moon tilted to the west, and the white light narrowed to about half.