My master has a pockmarked face.

Before the Meiji Restoration, pockmarks were quite popular, but from the perspective of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance today, such a face seems a little out of date.

The decline of pockmarks is inversely proportional to the increase in population, and in the near future it will be completely extinct. This is a conclusion that has been precisely calculated from medical statistics, and it is a theory that even a cat like me has no room for doubt.

I don't know how many people with pockmarked faces are living on the earth today, but as far as I can see in my social circle, there is not a single cat.

There is only one human being.

But that one person is my master.

I feel very sorry for him.

 I think about it every time I see my master's face.

I wonder what kind of karma he has to have such a strange face and breathe the air of the twentieth century without shame.

In the past, they might have been a little more useful, but nowadays, when all pockmarks are ordered to move to the upper arms, it is not only not a boast to still occupy the tip of the nose or the cheeks and stubbornly refuse to move, but rather a matter of the pockmarks' dignity.

If it were possible, it would be better to get rid of them now.

The pockmarks themselves must be lonely.

Or, when the party is in a slump, I wonder if they are occupying the whole face in such a crosswind with the spirit of vowing to turn the sunset back to the middle of the sky.

Then, these pockmarks should never be looked at with contempt.

It is a collection of holes that have been polished for thousands of years against the torrent of vulgarity, and it is a bump that deserves our respect.

The only drawback is that it is dirty.

 When my master was a child, there was a famous Chinese medicine doctor named Asada Sohaku in Yamabushi-cho, Ushigome, and when this old man visited a sick house, he always came in a basket and slowly.

However, when Sohaku died and his adopted son took over, the basket suddenly changed into a rickshaw.

So when the adopted son dies and his adopted son follows, Kakkonto may turn into antipyrine.

Riding in a basket and walking around Tokyo was not a very good sight even in the days of Sohaku.

The only ones who did such a thing were the old-fashioned dead, the pigs loaded onto the train, and Sohaku.

 My master's pockmarks are as unmoving as Sohaku's basket, and it's a pity to see them from the outside, but my master, who is as stubborn as a Chinese doctor, still goes to school every day to teach Reader, exposing his pockmarks to the world.

 He who stands on the platform with such a memorial of the last century engraved on his face must be giving his students a great admonition other than the lesson.

Rather than repeating "the monkey has hands," he easily interprets the big problem of "the effect of pockmarks on the face" and gives the answer to the students in silence.

If a person like my master no longer exists as a teacher, the students will have to rush to the library or museum to study this problem and spend as much effort as we do to make the Egyptians look like mummies.

From this point of view, my master's pockmarks are also doing a strange merit in the dark.

 However, my master did not plant smallpox all over his face to do this merit.

In fact, he had smallpox.

Unfortunately, I thought I had planted it in my arm, but it had spread to my face before I knew it.

At that time, he was a child and had no sex appeal like now, so he scratched his face all over, saying that it was itchy.

It was just like a volcano erupting and lava flowing over his face, ruining the face his parents gave him.

The master sometimes tells his wife that he was a beautiful boy before he had smallpox.

He even boasts that he was so beautiful that Westerners looked back at him at the Kannon in Asakusa.

Indeed, that may be the case.

It is just a pity that no one has a guarantor.

 No matter how much merit or admonition it may be, a dirty person is still dirty, so since he became aware of things, the master began to worry about his pockmarks and tried to crush this ugliness by all means.

However, unlike the old Sohaku's cage, it is not something that can be done so quickly just because you are tired of it.

It still remains clear.

It seems that this clarity is a little worrying, and the master seems to count the pockmarks every time he walks on the street.

How many pockmarks did you meet today, is the owner a man or a woman, is the place the Ogawamachi Industrial Promotion Hall or Ueno Park, all of which are included in his diary.

He is convinced that he will never give in to anyone in his knowledge of pockmarks.

When a friend who had returned from a trip abroad came the other day, he asked, "Do Westerners have pockmarks?"

Then the friend said, "That's right," and after thinking about it for a while, he said, "Well, it's rare," and the master said, "Even if it's rare, is there a little?"

The friend replied with a disinterested face, "Even if there is, it's a beggar or a stand-up. It seems that educated people don't have it," the master said, "I wonder if it's a little different from Japan."

 The master, who had been thinking about a quarrel with the Rakuunkan by the opinion of the philosopher, has been thinking about something in the study since then.

He may be willing to accept his advice and passively cultivate his spiritual spirit in the midst of meditation, but he is originally a small-minded human being, and he can not get a good result if he is only gloomy and nostalgic.

I realized that it would be far better to put an English book in pawn and learn the trumpet from a geisha, but such an eccentric man would never listen to the advice of a cat, so I decided to let him do as he pleased and spent five or six days without approaching him.

 Today is exactly the seventh day since then.

In the Zen sect, there are some people who are so eager to achieve enlightenment that they set a limit of seven days, so I wondered what had happened to my master, whether he was dead or alive, and I went from the eaves to the entrance of the study to scout the situation inside.

 The study is a six-tatami room facing south, with a large desk in a sunny spot.

But you wouldn't know it from the big desk.

It is a large desk, six feet long, three feet eight inches wide, and of a height to match.

Of course, it is not a ready-made one.

It is a rare item that was made as a bed and desk by negotiating with a nearby carpenter.

I don't know why he made such a big desk, or why he wanted to sleep on it, because I haven't asked him.

He may have brought in such a difficult thing just for a moment, or he may have associated two unrelated ideas and arbitrarily linked the desk and the bed, as we often find in a kind of mentally ill person.

Anyway, it's a strange idea.

The only drawback is that it is just strange and not useful.

I once saw my master take a nap on this desk and roll over to the side of the desk.

Since then, this desk has never been used as a bed.

 In front of the desk is a thin merino cushion with three holes burned by cigarette fire.

The cotton inside is dark.

The master is sitting on this cushion with his back to me.

The left and right sides of the dirty gray heko-obi tied in a knot are hanging down to the soles of the feet.

It was just the other day that I was slapped on the head for playing with this obi.

It's not an obi that I should go near.

 I wondered if he was still thinking. There is a saying that the more you think, the worse it gets. I peeked from behind and saw something shining on the desk.

I blinked two or three times in a row, but I thought it was strange, so I endured the glare and stared at the shining object.

Then I realized that the light was coming from a mirror moving on the desk.

But why is my master waving a mirror around in his study?

Mirrors belong in the bathroom.

In fact, I saw this mirror in the bathroom this morning.

I say this mirror because there is no other mirror in my master's house.

My master uses this mirror every morning when he parts his hair after washing his face.

Some people may ask if a man like my master parts his hair, but in fact he is as careful with his head as he is lazy with other things.

Since I came to this house, my master has never cut his hair to a five-minute cut, no matter how hot the day is.

He always makes it about two inches long, and not only does he part it on the left side, but he also flips the right end a little bit.

This may also be a sign of mental illness.

I don't think this pretentious way of parting the hair is in harmony with this desk, but no one says anything about it because it doesn't harm others.

He is also proud of it.

Leaving aside the stylishness of the parting, I wondered why he made his hair so long, and the reason is this.

His pockmarks have not only invaded his face, but have long since eaten into his brain.

So if he cuts his hair short like an ordinary person, dozens of pockmarks will appear from the roots of the short hair.

No matter how much he strokes or rubs it, the spots will not come off.

It may be poetic, like releasing fireflies in a withered field, but it is of course not to the liking of the wife.

If he keeps his hair long, it will not be exposed, and he will not have to expose his own faults.

If possible, he would like to grow hair on his face and keep his pockmarks to himself, so there is no need to pay for a haircut and tell everyone that he has smallpox all the way up to his skull.

This is the reason why my master grows his hair long, and the reason why he parts his hair is because he looks in the mirror, and the reason why the mirror is in the bathroom is because there is only one mirror.

 Since the mirror that should be in the bathroom, and the only mirror, is in the study, it must be that the mirror has suffered from a separation of the soul or that the master has brought it from the bathroom.

If he brought it, what did he bring it for?

Perhaps it is a tool necessary for the passive training.

Once upon a time, a scholar visited a certain wise man, and the priest was polishing a brick with his bare skin.

When asked what he was making, he replied that he was trying hard to make a mirror.

The scholar was surprised and said that no matter how famous a priest was, he could not make a mirror by polishing a brick. The priest laughed and said, "Well, then I'll stop. No matter how many books you read, you can't understand the way. That's the way it is." Perhaps my master has heard such a story and brought a mirror from the bathroom and is swinging it around with a triumphant look on his face.

I'm quietly watching, thinking that it's getting quite dangerous.

 My master, unaware of this, is staring at the mirror with a very enthusiastic look on his face.

Mirrors are creepy things.

It takes a lot of courage to light a candle in the middle of the night and look into a mirror alone in a large room.

When the young lady of the house first pushed a mirror in front of my face, I was so surprised that I ran around the house three times.

No matter how bright it is, if you stare at yourself in the mirror as hard as my master does, you will surely be scared of your own face.

It's not a very pleasant face to look at.

After a while, my master said to himself, "Indeed, it's a dirty face."

It's quite admirable to confess one's own ugliness.

The way he said it was certainly crazy, but what he said was the truth.

If this goes one step further, he will be afraid of his own ugliness.

A person cannot be called a hard worker unless he has felt to the bone and marrow the fact that he is a terrible villain.

If you are not a hard worker, you cannot be liberated.

When he came this far, he would have said, "Oh, I'm scared," but he didn't.

After saying, "Indeed, it's a dirty face," he puffed out his cheeks, wondering what he had come up with.

Then he slapped his puffed cheeks with his open hand two or three times.

I don't know what kind of spell it is.

At that time, I felt that there was something similar to this face.

When I think about it carefully, it's the face of the third master.

I'll introduce the face of the third master, but it's puffy.

The other day, someone brought me a puffer fish lantern from Anamori Inari as a souvenir, and it's just like that puffer fish lantern.

The swelling is so cruel that both eyes are lost.

However, the puffer fish swells evenly and roundly, but when it comes to the third master, the original skeleton is polygonal, and it swells up according to the skeleton, so it's like a hexagonal clock suffering from dropsy.

The third master would be angry if he heard this, so I'll leave him alone and return to my master. He puffed up his cheeks with all the air he could, and as I said before, he slapped his cheeks with his palms and said to himself, "When the skin is this tense, the pockmarks are not visible."

 This time, he turned his face sideways and looked at the mirror where the light was reflected on one side.

"When I look at it this way, it stands out.

The side facing the sun looks flat.

It's a strange thing." He seemed to be very impressed.

Then he stretched out his right hand, took the mirror as far away as possible, and stared at it quietly.

"It's not so bad at this distance.

It's not good to be too close.

It's not just the face, it's everything." He said something like that.

Then he suddenly turned the mirror sideways.

Then he made the root of his nose the center, and gathered his eyes, forehead, and eyebrows all at once toward this center.

I thought that an unpleasant appearance was completed, and he seemed to have noticed that "No, this is no good", and he stopped early.

"Why is my face so poisonous?" he said, and pulled the mirror to about three inches away from his eyes.

He stroked his nose with his right index finger, and pressed the head of the finger on the blotting paper on the desk.

The oil of the nose that was absorbed appeared round on the paper.

They do various tricks.

Then, the master turned the fingertip that was smeared with the oil of the nose, and turned the lower eyelid of the right eye, and did the so-called "Bekkangkou" splendidly.

I'm not sure if he's studying his pockmarks or having a staring contest with the mirror.

As he is a man of many moods, I expect to see many changes in him.

That's not all.

If I were to interpret it in a good-natured way, I might say that my master is performing various gestures in front of the mirror as a means of self-awareness.

All human research is self-research.

Heaven and earth, mountains and rivers, sun and moon, stars and planets are all just different names for the self.

No one can find anything to study other than the self.

If a person could jump out of the self, the self would disappear as soon as he jumped out.

Moreover, no one can study the self except the self.

No matter how much you want to serve or receive, it is impossible.

That's why all the heroes of the past became heroes by their own efforts.

If you could understand yourself thanks to others, you could have someone else eat beef on your behalf and judge whether it is hard or soft.

Listening to the law in the morning, listening to the way in the evening, and holding a book under the lamp are all just expedient means to provoke this self-evidence.

There is no reason for the self to exist in the law that people preach, in the way that others argue, or in the pile of paper that is more than five cars.

If there is, it is the ghost of the self.

In some cases, a ghost may be better than no ghost.

If you chase the shadow, you may not always meet the main body.

Many shadows usually do not leave the main body.

If my master is twisting the mirror in this sense, he is a man who can talk a lot.

I think it's much better than swallowing Epictetus and pretending to be a scholar.

 The mirror is a sterilizer of pride as well as a brewer of self-conceit.

If you treat it with a sense of vanity and vanity, there is no tool to incite fools like this.

Two-thirds of the acts of harming oneself and others with arrogance from the past are certainly the work of mirrors.

Just as the doctor who invented the improved guillotine during the French Revolution committed a great crime, the person who first made the mirror must have had a bad night's sleep.

However, when you are tired of yourself, when your ego is shrinking, there is no medicine like looking in a mirror.

It is clear.

I'm sure you'll realize that you've lived up to this day with such a face.

The time when you realize that is the most thankful time in your life.

There is nothing more noble than knowing your own stupidity.

All the arrogant people must bow their heads and be afraid in front of this self-conscious fool.

The person himself may think that he is scorning and ridiculing me, but from my point of view, his arrogance is a sign of fear and respect.

My master is not wise enough to realize his own stupidity by looking in the mirror.

However, he is a man who can read the inscription of the pockmark on my face fairly.

Recognizing the ugliness of one's face may also be a step toward understanding the baseness of one's heart.

He is a reliable man.

This may also be the result of being overwhelmed by the philosopher.

 While I was thinking like this and still watching the situation, the master, who did not know it, said, "It seems to be quite congested.

After all, it's chronic conjunctivitis," he said, and began to rub his bloodshot eyelids with the side of his index finger.

It's probably itchy, but I can't stand to rub it like this when it's already so red.

It's bound to rot like the eyes of a salted sea bream in the near future.

When I opened my eyes and looked at the mirror, I saw that it was cloudy like the winter sky in the northern country.

However, it is not a very clear eye from normal.

Using an exaggerated adjective, it is so vague that the black eye and the white eye are not dissected.

As his spirit is consistent in a vague and unintelligible manner, his eyes are also vague and vague, and they are drifting in the back of the orbit.

It is said that this is due to fetal poison, or it is interpreted as the aftermath of smallpox, and when it was small, it seems that it was a lot of trouble for willow insects and red frogs, but it is a good idea for the mother to be careful. It is vague as it was when it was born until today.

I secretly think that this condition is not due to fetal poison or smallpox.

The reason why his eyeballs are wandering in such a difficult and muddy situation is that his brain is composed of an opaque substance, and its action has reached the extreme of darkness, so naturally this appears on the form. I guess I was worried about my mother who didn't know.

I know that there is smoke, and I prove that I am stupid.

When I see it, his eyes are a symbol of his heart, and his heart is like a hole in the Tenpo coin, so his eyes must not be used in a large proportion, just like the Tenpo coin.

 Now he began to twist his beard.

It is a beard that is not well-behaved from the beginning, and everyone is growing in their own way.

No matter how much individualism is popular in the world, it is thought that the owner's inconvenience is so much that he is selfish in each town, and the owner also has a place to look at here, and recently he has given a lot of training and is doing his best to arrange it as systematically as possible.

The fruit of his enthusiasm is not empty, and recently the pace has finally begun to improve.

Until now, he had a beard, but now he is proud to have a beard.

Enthusiasm is inspired according to the degree of effectiveness, so when I see that my beard is promising, my master will always add a whip to the beard if his hands are free in the morning and evening.

His ambition is to grow a beard like the German Emperor.

So, whether the hair follicles are sideways or downward, he grasps them in a bundle and pulls them upward.

The beard must be in a difficult situation, and even the owner, my master, sometimes feels pain.

But that is training.

He pulls it up whether it likes it or not.

To an outsider, it seems like a strange hobby, but only the authorities know that it is the right thing to do.

It is like an educator who idly bends the nature of his students and boasts, "Look at my achievements." There is no reason to blame him.

 While my master was training his beard with full enthusiasm, the polygonal O-san from the kitchen said, "The mail has arrived," and as usual, she put out her red hand into the study.

My master, holding his beard in his right hand and a mirror in his left hand, turns around to the entrance.

As soon as she saw the beard, which looked like an eight-shaped tail that had been ordered to stand upside down, she suddenly pulled back into the kitchen and laughed, leaning against the lid of the pot.

My master is not bothered.

He leisurely put down the mirror and picked up the mail.

The first letter is printed with some kind of solemn letters.

When he read it,

 Dear Sir, I wish you all the best. Looking back, the Russo-Japanese War was a series of victories, and peace was restored. Our loyal and brave soldiers are now more than half of the population, and the people are rejoicing. When the declaration of war was issued, the soldiers who served the public for a long time in a foreign land endured the hardships of cold and heat, engaged in battle with one mind, and devoted their lives to the nation. The triumphal return of the army will be almost complete by the end of this month. Therefore, on the 25th of this month, the Association will hold a grand triumphal celebration on behalf of the general public of the ward for more than 1,000 officers and soldiers who have served in the war, and at the same time, to comfort the bereaved families of the soldiers, we would like to express our sincere gratitude to them. We would like to ask for your cooperation in holding this grand ceremony, and we hope that you will agree to donate money to the Association.

 The sender is a nobleman.

After reading it silently, the master immediately rolled it up in the envelope and pretended not to know.

He probably won't donate money.

He donated two or three yen to the Tohoku famine relief fund, and he has been telling everyone he meets that he was forced to donate money.

As long as it is a donation, it is something to be offered, not to be taken.

It's not like he was robbed, so it's not appropriate to say that he was forced to donate.

However, my master, who seems to think that he has been robbed, is not the kind of person who would give money just because of a letter, no matter how much he is told that it is a welcome for the army or a solicitation from a nobleman.

According to my master, he would like to welcome himself first before welcoming the army.

After welcoming himself, he would welcome most things, but as long as he is in trouble in the morning and evening, he seems to leave the welcome to the nobles.

My master picked up the second letter and said, "Oh, this is also a letterpress."

 I am writing to you in the autumn chill, and I am pleased to inform you that your family is prospering more and more. As you know, our school has been hindered by a few ambitious people since the year before last, and it has reached its peak for a while, but I think that this is all due to the lack of my unworthy work, and I am deeply alarmed by it. As a result of the hardships, I have finally found a way to obtain the funds to build a new school building that meets my ideals by myself. It is the publication of a book called "The Secret of Sewing". This book is based on the principles of craft that I have studied for many years, and it is written with the thought of tearing my flesh and squeezing my blood. Therefore, I would like to ask you to purchase this book for the general public at a small profit on the actual cost of binding, and to help the development of this field, and at the same time, I would like to accumulate a small profit to cover the cost of building a school building. Therefore, I am very sorry to ask you to purchase a copy of the "Secret of Sewing" and give it to your maid, and to express your approval. I beg you to do so.

 The Great Japan Women's Sewing Supreme Graduate School

 Principal, Nuida Harisaku, nine bows

 It says.

My master coldly crumpled up this solemn letter and threw it into the wastebasket.

I feel sorry for Harisaku's nine bows and his hardships, which were of no use.

He starts on the third letter.

The third letter is very eccentric.

The envelope is red and white striped, and in the middle of the envelope, which is as bright as a lollipop sign, is written in bold letters, "Mr.珍野苦沙弥虎皮下".

I don't know if a woman will come out of it or not, but the outside is very fine.

 If I were to rule the universe, I could drink up the waters of the West River in one gulp. If the universe were to rule me, I would be but a speck of dust on the road.

I should say, what is the relationship between the universe and me? The first person to eat sea cucumber should be respected for his courage, and the first person to eat blowfish should be respected for his courage.

The one who can eat sea cucumber is the reincarnation of Shinran, and the one who can eat blowfish is the incarnation of Nichiren.

As for Mr. Kushami, he only knows the vinegared miso of dried gourd.

I have never seen a man who eats vinegared miso of dried gourd and is a man of the world.

......

 Your best friend will sell you.

Your parents will be selfish to you.

Your lover will abandon you.

Wealth and honor are not reliable.

Rank and salary can be lost in a day.

The knowledge you treasure in your head will get moldy.

What do you rely on?

What do you rely on in this world?

God?

God is just a clay figure that humans made up in their suffering.

It is just a stinking corpse of human feces.

They rely on what they should not rely on and feel at ease.

Suddenly, he started to talk nonsense like a drunkard, and staggered toward the grave.

When the oil is exhausted, the lamp goes out by itself.

When the karma is exhausted, what is left?

Please give my regards to Mr. Kushami and have some tea.

 If you don't think of people as people, there is nothing to fear.

How can a person who does not think of people as people be angry at the world that does not think of him as himself?

It seems that the people who are in power and have achieved success have gained it by not thinking of people as people.

Only when others do not think of me as myself, I become angry.

Come and make any color you like.

You idiot.

 When I think of people as people, and others do not think of me as myself, the grumbler suddenly descends from heaven.

This sudden activity is called a revolution.

The revolution is not the fault of the grumbler.

It is a place where people of power and honor like to be born.

There is a lot of ginseng in Korea. Why don't you take it?

 In Sugamo, Tendo Kohei, second bow

 Harisaku was nine bows, but this man is only two bows.

It is not a request for a donation, so it is about seven bows.

It is not a request for a donation, but it is very difficult to understand.

It is worthy enough to be rejected by any magazine, so I thought that my master, who is known for his opaque brain, would tear it to pieces, but he is reading it over and over again.

He may have decided to find out the meaning of this letter, thinking that it has a meaning.

There are many things in the world that we don't understand, but there is nothing that we can't make sense of.

No matter how difficult a sentence is, it can be easily interpreted if you try to interpret it.

It is easy to understand that humans are stupid or humans are clever.

Not only that.

It is not a proposition that humans are dogs or pigs.

It doesn't matter if you say that the mountain is low or the universe is narrow.

It is not impossible that crows are white, Komachi is an ugly woman, and Mr. Kushami is a gentleman.

So even if it is a meaningless letter, it can be interpreted in any way if you can make a theory.

In particular, a man like my master who has been explaining English by forcing it to be understood, is even more eager to give meaning.

When a student asked him why he said "Good morning" even though the weather was bad, he thought about it for seven days. When he was asked what the name "Columbus" was in Japanese, he spent three days and three nights devising an answer. For such a man, it is natural that he can come up with any meaning he wants, such as "Kanpyo with vinegared miso is a great man" or "Eating Korean ginseng will cause a revolution".

After a while, my master seemed to have swallowed this difficult phrase in the Good Morning style, and said, "It's quite meaningful.

He must be a man who has studied philosophy a lot.

It's a wonderful insight."

This one remark shows how foolish my master is, but on second thought, there is some truth in it.

My master has a habit of appreciating things he doesn't understand.

This is not necessarily limited to my master.

There is something that cannot be ridiculed in what we don't understand, and something noble in what we cannot measure.

That's why ordinary people talk about things they don't understand as if they do, while scholars explain things they do understand in a way that makes them incomprehensible.

It is well known that in university lectures, those who talk about things they don't understand have a good reputation, while those who explain things they do understand are not popular.

My master's admiration for this letter was not because its meaning was clear.

It was because its main point was almost impossible to grasp.

It's because a sea cucumber or a piece of dung suddenly appears.

So the only reason why my master respected this writing was that it was completely incomprehensible, just as the Taoists respect the Tao Te Ching, the Confucians respect the I Ching, and the Zen Buddhists respect the Rinzairoku.

However, he would not be satisfied if he did not understand it at all, so he would make his own annotations and pretend to understand it.

It has always been a pleasure to respect something that you don't understand as if you understood it.

My master respectfully rolled up the famous calligraphy in the style of the Eight Strokes, and, leaving it on the desk, folded his arms and sank into meditation.

 Then someone called out loudly from the entrance, "Excuse me, excuse me."

The voice sounded like Meitei's, but it was not like him to ask for directions so often.

My master had been listening to the voice in his study, but he did not move a muscle.

He never greeted anyone from his study, perhaps because he believed that it was not his job to answer the door.

The maid had gone out to buy laundry soap.

His wife was shy.

So I was the only one who could answer the door.

I didn’t want to answer the door either.

Then the guest jumped up from the shoe-removing place to the platform, opened the sliding door, and came in without hesitation.

The master is the master, but the guest is the guest.

I thought he went to the parlor, but he opened and closed the sliding door a few times, and then came to the study.

 “Hey, I’m not kidding.

What are you doing? It’s a guest.”

 “Oh, it’s you.”

 “Oh, it’s you.

If you’re there, say something. It’s like an empty house.”

 “Well, I’m thinking about something.”

 “Even if you’re thinking, you can say “come in.”

 “I can say it.”

 “You’re still bold.”

 “I’ve been training my mind recently.”

 “You’re a strange one.”

If you train your mind and can’t answer, it’ll be hard for visitors.

It’s a problem if you’re so calm.

Actually, I didn’t come alone.

I brought a great guest.

Please come out and meet him.”

 “Who did you bring?”

 “Whoever it is, please come out and meet him.

He says he wants to meet you.”

 “Who is it?”

 “Whoever it is, stand up.”

 My master stood up with his hands in his pockets and said, “He’s probably going to try to carry me again.” He went out to the veranda and entered the guest room without any hesitation.

Then, an old man was sitting in front of the six-foot floor.

My master took his hands out of his pockets and sat down next to the sliding door.

Since he was facing west like the old man, they couldn’t greet each other.

Old-fashioned people are particular about etiquette.

 “Please, over there.” He urged my master to the alcove.

Until a few years ago, my master thought it didn’t matter where he sat in a room. But after hearing a lecture about the alcove, he realized that it was a variation of the upper room and that it was where the envoy sat. Since then, he has never been near the alcove.

In particular, a stranger, an older man, was sitting there stubbornly, so it was not a place for the guest of honor.

He can’t even greet properly.

He bowed once.

 “Please, go there.” he repeated what the other man said.

 “No, I can’t greet you there, so please go there.”

 “No, that’s not... please go there.” My master imitated the other man’s words.

 “I’m afraid you’re being too modest.

I’m the one who should be sorry.

Please don’t hesitate. Come in.”

 “You’re being too modest... I’m afraid... please.”

My master turned bright red and mumbled something.

Mental training doesn’t seem to be very effective.

Meitei was standing behind the sliding door, laughing. He thought it was about time, so he pushed my master’s butt from behind.

 “Come on out.

If you sit so close to the sliding door, I won’t have a place to sit.

Don’t be shy, come forward.” he said, forcing his way in.

My master had no choice but to move forward.

 “Kushami, this is my uncle from Shizuoka that I’ve often told you about.

Uncle, this is Kushami.”

 “I’m pleased to meet you. I’ve heard that Meitei often visits you and I’ve been meaning to come and visit you myself. I happened to be in the neighborhood today so I thought I’d stop by and say hello. I hope we can get to know each other better.” he said in an old-fashioned manner.

My master is a quiet person with a small social circle and he’s never met such an old-fashioned man before. He was already feeling a little out of his depth and then he was bombarded with this old man’s speech. He completely forgot about the Korean ginseng and the candy stick and just gave a strange reply.

 “I also...I also...I was just about to visit you...pleased to meet you.” After he finished speaking, he raised his head a little from the tatami mat and saw that the old man was still bowing, so he was startled and put his head down again.

 The old man took a breath and raised his head. “I used to have a mansion here and lived in the capital for a long time, but I moved to the countryside when the government collapsed and I haven’t been back since.

Now that I’m back, I don’t even know my way around. I’ll have to ask Meitei to show me around.

Although it is said that the world has changed, it has been 300 years since the Shogunate was established, and as you can see, the Shogunate's..." Meitei thought it was a bother and said,

 "Uncle, the Shogunate may be grateful, but the Meiji era is also fine.

There was no such thing as the Red Cross in the old days."

 "No.

There is no such thing as the Red Cross.

In particular, it is only in the Meiji era that we can see the face of the prince.

I have lived a long life, and I am attending today's general meeting, and I can hear the voice of the prince, and I can die now."

 "Well, it's a gain just to see Tokyo after a long time.

Mr. Kushami, my uncle.

He came all the way from Shizuoka for the general meeting of the Red Cross, and we went to Ueno together today, but now we are on our way back.

That's why I'm wearing the frock coat I ordered from Shirokiya the other day."

Indeed, he is wearing a frock coat.

He is wearing a frock coat, but it doesn't fit him at all.

The sleeves are too long, the collar is open, there is a pond on the back, and the armpits are hanging up.

No matter how hard you try to make it look bad, you can't go so far as to distort the shape.

In addition, the white shirt and the white collar are separated, and when you look up, you can see the Adam's apple.

First of all, it is not clear whether the black collar belongs to the collar or the shirt.

I can still put up with the frock, but the white-haired topknot is a very strange sight.

When I looked at the famous iron fan, I saw that it was properly drawn next to my knee.

At this time, the master finally returned to his true heart, and was a little surprised to apply the results of his spiritual training to the old man's clothes.

I didn't think it would be as much as Meitei's story, but when I met him, it was more than a story.

If my pockmarks are to be the material for historical research, then this old man's topknot and iron fan are certainly worth more than that.

The master wanted to hear the origin of this iron fan, but he couldn't ask a question, and he thought it would be rude to interrupt the story.

 "A lot of people have come out," he asked in an extremely ordinary way.

 "No, it's an extraordinary person, and they all stare at me. It seems that people have become more curious recently.

It wasn't like that in the past."

 "Yes, that's right, it wasn't like that in the past," he said like an old man.

This is not necessarily because my master was pretending to be knowledgeable.

It is safe to say that it is just a language that flows out of a hazy brain.

 "And.

Everyone is looking at this crack."

 "That iron fan must be quite heavy."

 "Kushami, hold it for a moment.

It's quite heavy.

Uncle, hold it."

 The old man picked it up as if it were heavy and handed it to the master, saying, "Excuse me."

Like a pilgrim in Kurodani, Kyoto, who receives the sword of Rensho-bo, Mr. Kushami held it for a while, but returned it to the old man, saying, "I see."

 "Everyone calls this a tessen, but it's called a kowari and is completely different from a tessen..."

 "Well, what is it made of?"

 "It splits the helmet, so I shot the enemy's blind spot."

It seems to have been used since the time of Kusunoki Masashige..."

 "Uncle, is that Masashige's kowari?"

 "No, I don't know whose it is."

But it's old."

It may have been made in the Kenmu era."

 "It may be from the Kenmu era, but Kangetsuku was weak."

"Kushami, I was passing through the university on my way home today, so I stopped by the science department and was shown the physics laboratory."

This helmet is made of iron, so the magnetic instrument went crazy and caused a big fuss."

 "No, that can't be.

This is iron from the Kenmu era, and it's good iron, so there's no such danger."

 "No matter how good the iron is, it can't be that good.

In fact, Kangets said so, so there's nothing we can do about it."

 "Is Kangetsu the man who's polishing that glass ball?

It's a pity for the youth of today.

There must be something else to do."

 "Poor thing, that's also research.

When he finishes polishing that ball, he'll become a great scholar."

 "If polishing a ball can make one a great scholar, anyone can do it.

Even I can do it.

Even the glass shop owner can do it.

In China, people who do that kind of thing are called ball-polishers, and they're of very low status." He turned to my master and silently sought his agreement.

 "I see," said my master, respectfully.

 "All the learning of the present day is merely superficial. It may seem fine, but when it comes to the crunch, it's of no use at all.

In the old days it was different. Samurai were all in the business of risking their lives, so they trained their minds to avoid panic in a crisis. As you know, it was not as easy as polishing balls or twisting wire."

 "I see," said my master, still respectfully.

 "Uncle, I suppose that training the mind means sitting with your hands in your pockets instead of polishing balls."

 "That's the trouble.

It's not as simple as that.

Mencius even said that one should seek to recover one's lost heart.

Shao Kang-chieh also said that the mind should be set free.

In Buddhism, the priest Chu-ho taught the doctrine of the unretrogressive mind.

It's not easy to understand.

 I don't understand it at all.

What should I do?

 Have you ever read the Fudochi-Shinmyo-roku by the priest Sawan?

 No, I've never heard of it.

 Where should I put my mind?

If you put your mind on the enemy's movements, your mind will be taken by the enemy's movements.

If you put your mind on the enemy's sword, your mind will be taken by the enemy's sword.

If you put your mind on the place where you want to cut the enemy, your mind will be taken by the place where you want to cut the enemy.

If you put your mind on your sword, your mind will be taken by your sword.

If you put your mind on the place where you don't want to be cut, your mind will be taken by the place where you don't want to be cut.

If you put your mind on the opponent's stance, your mind will be taken by the opponent's stance.

In short, there is no place to put your mind.

 "You have memorized it well without forgetting.

You have a good memory.

Isn't it long?

Do you understand, Mr. Kushami?"

 "I see," he said again.

 "Hey, you, that's right.

Where should I put my mind? If I put my mind on the enemy's movement, my mind will be taken by the enemy's movement.

If I put my mind on the enemy's sword..."

 "Uncle, Mr. Kushami knows such things well.

He's been training his mind in his study every day lately.

He's so absent-minded that he doesn't even answer the door when there's a visitor, so it's okay."

 "Well, that's a strange thing--you should do it with me."

 "Hehe, I don't have time for that.

You're so relaxed that you think everyone else is just playing around."

 "They are playing around."

 "But I'm busy in my free time."

 "Yes, I'm careless, so I have to train myself. There is a saying that there is leisure in the midst of busyness, but I have never heard of there being busyness in the midst of leisure.

Right, Mr. Kushami?"

 "Yes, I've never heard of it."

 "Hahaha, I can't beat that.

By the way, uncle, what do you think?

How about eating eel in Tokyo after a long time?

I'll treat you to some bamboo leaves.

I'll take the train now, and it'll be quick."

 "Eel is fine, but I have an appointment to go to Suibara today, so I'll be excused."

 "Oh, Sugihara, that old man is also good."

 "Not Sugihara, Suibara.

You always make mistakes and it's a problem.

It's rude to mistake someone's name.

You have to be careful."

 "But it's written Sugihara."

 "It's written Sugihara but read Suihara."

 "That's strange."

 "What's strange about it?

It's called a nominal reading and it's been around for a long time.

The Japanese name for earthworm is mimizu.

That's a nominal reading of me-mi-zu.

It's the same as calling a toad a kaeru."

 "Well, I'm surprised."

 "When you kill a toad, it turns over.

That's called a nominal reading.

It's the same as calling a toad a kaeru."

It's a country bumpkin's way of speaking to call Sugihara Sugihara.

You'll be laughed at if you don't take care."

 "Well, are you going to Suibara now?

I'm in a fix."

 "Well, if you don't like it, you don't have to go.

I'll go alone."

 "Can you go alone?"

 "It's difficult to walk.

Let's hire a car and go from here."

 My master was awed and immediately sent O-san to the rickshaw shop.

The old man made a long greeting, put his bowler hat on his topknot, and left.

Meitei stayed behind.

 "Is that your uncle?"

 "That's my uncle."

 "I see," he said, and sat down on the cushion again, folding his arms and thinking.

 "Hahaha, he's a hero, isn't he?"

I'm lucky to have an uncle like that.

He's like that wherever you take him.

You must be surprised," said Meitei, greatly pleased with himself for having surprised his master.

 "I'm not so surprised."

 "If you're not surprised by that, you've got a lot of nerve."

 "But that uncle seems to be quite a great man.

I greatly admire his insistence on spiritual training."

 "Do you admire him?

When you're about sixty, you may be as out of date as that uncle.

Please be strong.

I don't like the out-of-date rotation."

 "You're always worried about being out of date, but sometimes it's better to be out of date.

In the first place, the present study is just going forward and forward, and there is no limit to how far it goes.

I can't be satisfied at all.

In that case, the Oriental style of study is negative and has a great taste.

It is to train the mind itself." He states his own theory as he heard from the philosopher the other day.

 "It's been a great thing.

You're saying something like Mr. Yagi Dokusen.

 The master was surprised to hear the name of Yagi Dokusen.

In fact, the philosopher who visited the cave the other day and persuaded the master to return home is this Yagi Dokusen, and the argument that the master is now making is totally the resale of this Yagi Dokusen, so Meitei, who thought he didn't know, brought out the name of this teacher at the time of the hair, and it turned out that he had secretly crushed the master's one-night nose.

 "Have you ever heard of Dokusen's theory?" the master asked.

 "I've heard it. His theory hasn't changed a bit since I was in school ten years ago."

 "The truth doesn't change that much, so it may be reliable that it doesn't change."

 "Well, that's why Dokusen is still going on.

First of all, the name Yagi is well made.

That beard is a goat.

And that's how it grew since the boarding school days.

The name Dokusen is also a good one.

He used to come to my place to stay overnight and argue about passive training as usual.

He kept repeating the same thing forever, so when I said, "Let's go to bed," he said, "Teacher, it's easy. No, I'm not sleepy." He was still a nuisance to talk about passive theory.

I had no choice but to ask him to go to bed, even though he wasn't sleepy, because I was very sleepy, but that night a rat came out and bit the tip of Dokusen's nose.

There was a big fuss in the middle of the night.

The teacher said something like he had realized, but he seemed to still regret his life and was very worried.

It would be terrible if the rat's poison spread all over my body. I was at a loss to blame him.

Then I had no choice but to go to the kitchen and paste rice grains on the piece of paper to deceive him."

 "Why?"

 "This is an imported ointment, recently invented by a famous German doctor, and it is effective immediately when used by Indians and others when bitten by a poisonous snake, so it is said that it is safe to apply it."

 "You were good at deceiving people even at that time."

 "...Then Dokusen, being such a good-natured fellow, believed me and fell asleep with a sense of relief.

The next morning when he woke up, it was funny to see the thread hanging from under the ointment and caught in his goat beard."

 "But you seem to have become much more important since then."

 "Have you seen him recently?"

 "He came about a week ago and talked for a long time."

 "I thought he was going to wield the negative theory of the Dosen school."

 "Actually, I was so impressed at that time that I'm thinking of doing my best to cultivate myself."

 "It's good to be motivated."

If you take what people say too seriously, you'll be a fool.

You shouldn't take everything people say so seriously.

Dokusen is also a fine talker, but when it comes down to it, they're all the same.

You know about the great earthquake nine years ago.

At that time, Dokusen was the only one who jumped from the second floor of the boarding house and got hurt."

 "He seems to have a lot of theories about that."

 "Yes, he says it's a great thing.

The Zen wit is sharp, and when it comes to the so-called stone-fire machine, it can respond to things as quickly as it is scary.

While others were panicking, saying it was an earthquake, he was the only one who jumped out of the second-floor window, saying that he was glad that the effects of his training had appeared, and he was happy while limping.

He is a man with a strong sense of loss.

There is nothing as suspicious as those who make a fuss about Zen or Buddha."

 "Is that so?" said Mr. Kushami, his waist a little weak.

 "When he came the other day, he said something like a Zen priest's sleep talk."

 "Yes, he taught me a haiku about cutting the spring breeze in the shadow of lightning."

 "That lightning.

It's strange because it's a box from ten years ago.

There was no one in the boarding house who didn't know about the lightning of the Zen master.

What's more, the teacher sometimes coughs and says that he cuts the lightning in the shadow of the spring breeze upside down, which is interesting.

Try it next time.

The other side is calmly stating their case, and this side is opposing it in various ways.

Then he'll get confused and say something strange."

 "I can't stand a prankster like you."

 "I don't know who's the prankster.

I hate Zen monks and enlightenment.

There is a temple called Nanzouin near my house, and there is a retired man of about eighty there.

So, during the recent white rain, lightning struck the temple and split the pine tree in the garden where the retired man was.

However, the priest said that he was calm and calm, so when I listened carefully, he was deaf.

That's why he was calm.

That's how it usually is.

It would be fine if Dosen was enlightened alone, but it is bad because he tends to lure people out.

In fact, two people have been driven crazy because of Dosen.

 "Who?"

 "Who?

One is Rinotoran.

Because of Dosen, he became obsessed with Zen and went to Kamakura, and finally went crazy.

There is a railway crossing in front of Engakuji, and he jumped into the crossing and sat on the rails.

He said he would stop the train coming from the other side.

The train stopped, so he survived, but this time he said he was a diamond body that would not burn in fire or drown in water, and he crawled into the lotus pond in the temple and walked around.

 "Did he die?"

 "At that time, a monk from the dojo passed by and helped him, but after returning to Tokyo, he died of peritonitis.

He died of peritonitis, but the cause of peritonitis was that he ate barley rice and pickled vegetables in the monk's hall, so in the end, it was like he was indirectly killed by Dokusen."

 "It's not good to be too enthusiastic," said my master, looking a little uncomfortable.

 "Really.

There is another person in the same class who was killed by Dokusen."

 "It's dangerous.

Who is it?"

 "It's Tatemachi Oume.

That man was also completely seduced by Dokusen and said things like eels ascending to heaven, but finally he became real."

 "What do you mean by real?"

 "Finally the eel ascended to heaven and the pig became a hermit."

 "What do you mean by that?"

 "If Yagi is Dokusen, Tatemachi is a pig hermit. There was no man as greedy as him, but he can't be helped because his greed and the Zen monk's bad intentions occurred at the same time."

At first we didn't notice, but now that I think about it, he was saying a lot of strange things.

He came to my house and said, "Hey, isn't that cutlet flying to the pine tree? In my country, kamaboko is swimming on a board."

It was fine when he was just talking, but when he urged me to go to the ditch outside to dig for gold, I gave up.

A few days later, he finally became a pig hermit and was taken to Sugamo.

Originally, pigs are not qualified to be crazy, but it was all thanks to Dokusen that he got there.

Dokusen's power is also quite great."

 "Oh, is he still in Sugamo?"

 "He's not there.

He's a megalomaniac and he's blowing his top.

Recently he's been saying that the name Tatemachi Old Plum is boring, so he's taken the name Tendo Kohei and is acting as if he's the incarnation of the way of heaven.

It's terrible.

Well, go and have a look."

 "Tendo Kohei?"

 "Tendo Kohei.

It's a good name for a lunatic.

Sometimes it's written as Kohei.

He says that the people of the world are lost and he wants to save them, so he writes letters to his friends and others.

I received four or five letters, and some of them were quite long, so I was charged for insufficient postage twice."

 "So you came to my place from the old plum tree."

 "Did he come to your place too?

That's strange.

It must be a red envelope."

 "Yes, the middle is red and the left and right are white.

It's a strange envelope."

 "I heard that they are specially imported from China.

It is said that they represent the saying of the pig sage that the way of heaven is white, the way of the earth is white, and man is in the middle and red..."

 "It's a very fateful envelope."

 "He's a madman, so he's very particular about it.

It seems that even though he's crazy, his appetite is still there, and it's strange that he always writes about food.

He must have said something to you."

 "Yes, it's about sea cucumbers."

 "Old Plum liked sea cucumbers.

That's right.

And then?"

 "And then it says something about blowfish and Korean ginseng."

 "Blowfish and Korean ginseng are a good combination.

I suppose he means that if you eat blowfish and get poisoned, you should take Korean ginseng."

 "I don't think so."

 "It doesn't matter if it isn't.

He's crazy anyway."

Is that all?"

 "There's more.

There is a line that says, "Mr. Kushami, please have some tea."

 "Ahahaha, 'please have some tea' is too harsh.

He must have thought he had you there.

It's a masterpiece.

"Long live Mr. Tendo Kohei!" said Meitei, amused, and started laughing.

Since my master learned that the sender of the letter, which he had read and reread with no small respect, was a certified lunatic, he felt that his previous enthusiasm and pains had been wasted and was angry. He was also ashamed to think that he had taken so much trouble to appreciate the writing of a madman. Finally, he began to wonder if he himself might not be a little mad to be so impressed by the work of a lunatic. So he sat there with a somewhat unsettled expression, a mixture of anger, shame, and anxiety.

 Just then, the front door was opened with a bang, and the sound of heavy boots echoed in the entrance. "Excuse me, excuse me," a loud voice said.

In contrast to my master's heavy buttocks, Meitei is a very carefree man, so he didn't wait for O-san to come out to greet him, but jumped over the partition in two steps and jumped out into the entrance, saying, "Let me through."

It seems to be a nuisance to crawl into someone's house without asking for an invitation, but once he's in, he serves as a messenger just like a student, so it's very convenient.

No matter how much of a nuisance Meitei is, he is still a guest, and there is no way that the host, Mr. Kushami, can stay in the room while the guest goes to the entrance.

A normal man would have followed him out, but that's Mr. Kushami.

He is sitting on a cushion with his buttocks at ease.

However, the appearance of being calm and being calm are quite similar, but the substance is quite different.

 Meitei, who had rushed out to the entrance, was arguing about something, but soon turned to the back and said, "Hey, master, I'm sorry to trouble you, but could you come out?

I can't do it without you," he said in a loud voice.

The master had no choice but to come out with his hands in his pockets.

I saw Meitei squatting down and greeting me with a business card in his hand.

He was sitting in a very undignified manner.

The business card said "Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department Detective Police Officer Yoshida Torazo".

Standing next to Torazo was a tall, twenty-five or six-year-old man dressed in a stylish foreign suit.

Strangely, this man was standing silently with his hands in his pockets, just like my master.

I thought I had seen his face somewhere before, and when I looked at him carefully, I realized that I had seen him before.

He was the thief who visited us late at night and took the yam.

Oh, this time he came in through the front door in broad daylight.

 "Hey, this is a detective. He caught the thief the other day and came here to tell you to come to the police station."

 My master finally seemed to understand why the detective had come in, and bowed his head and bowed politely to the thief.

The thief looked more manly than Torazo, so he must have jumped to the conclusion that he was the detective.

The thief must have been surprised, but he couldn't have denied that he was the thief, so he stood there calmly.

He still had his hands in his pockets.

However, since he was handcuffed, he couldn't have taken them out even if he wanted to.

Most people would have understood the situation by now, but my master, unlike most people of today, has a habit of blindly respecting officials and the police.

He regards the authority of the government as something to be feared.

Of course, in theory, he knows that policemen are just watchmen hired with our money, but when he actually meets one, he becomes strangely obsequious.

My master's father was once a village headman, and his habit of bowing to his superiors may have been passed on to his son.

It is truly a pity.

 The policeman seemed to find it funny, and said with a grin, "Tomorrow, please come to the police station in Nihonzutsumi by 9:00 a.m.

What were the stolen items?"

 "The stolen items are..." he began, but unfortunately he had forgotten most of them.

The only thing he remembered was the mountain yam of Sanpei Tatara.

He thought that he didn't care about the mountain yam, but to say that the stolen items were... and then not be able to continue would make him look like a fool.

If someone else had been robbed, it would be a different matter, but to be robbed oneself and not be able to give a clear answer would be proof that he was not a full-fledged adult, so he made up his mind and added, "The stolen items are... a box of mountain yams."

 The thief must have found this very funny, for he looked down and buried his chin in the collar of his kimono.

Meitei laughed and said, "You must have really missed the mountain yam."

Only the policeman is unexpectedly serious.

 "The mountain yams don't seem to be coming out, but most of the other items seem to have been returned.

So, when you hand it over, you'll get a receipt, so don't forget to bring your seal.

It's the Nihonzutsumi branch.

The thief also followed him out the gate.

Since he couldn't use his hands, he couldn't close the gate, so he left it open.

Though he was afraid, he seemed to be dissatisfied, and my master puffed out his cheeks and stood up.

 "Ahahaha, you respect detectives a lot.

If you always had such a humble attitude, you would be a good man, but you are only polite to the police, so I'm troubled."

 "But he came all the way to tell us."

 "Even if he came to tell us, it's business.

It's enough to treat him normally."

 "But it's not just business."

 "Of course it's not just business.

It's a dirty business called detective.

It's lower than normal business."

 "You'll be in trouble if you say that."

 "Hahaha, then let's stop talking bad about detectives.

But it's okay to respect detectives, but I can't help but be surprised to respect thieves."

 "Who wants to respect thieves?"

 "You did."

 "I don't have any connection with thieves."

 "You bowed to a thief."

 "When?"

 "You just bowed."

 "You're stupid. He's a detective."

 "A detective doesn't look like that."

 "He looks like that because he's a detective."

 "You're stubborn."

 "You're the one who's stubborn."

 "Well, first of all, would a detective come to someone's place and stand there with his hands in his pockets?"

 "A detective can put his hands in his pockets."

 "I'm afraid of him coming so violently."

"He stood there the whole time you were bowing."

 "He's a detective, so he might do that."

 "You seem to be confident."

"No matter how much I say, you don't listen."

 "I won't listen."

You just say thief, thief, but you didn't see the thief come in.

You just think so and are being obstinate by yourself."

 Meitei also seemed to have given up on him as a man who could not be saved, and became silent, unlike usual.

My master was very proud of himself, thinking that he had finally defeated Meitei.

From Meitei's point of view, my master's value had fallen as much as he had been obstinate, but from my master's point of view, he had become more important than Meitei as much as he had been obstinate.

There are many such absurd things in the world.

While he thinks he has won if he is obstinate, his value as a person falls far.

Strangely enough, the obstinate person himself never realizes that people despise him and do not want to deal with him after that, thinking that he has done something to save his face until he dies.

It is a happy thing.

It is said that such happiness is called pig-like happiness.

 "Are you going tomorrow anyway?"

 "I'm going. He said to come by nine o'clock, so I'm leaving at eight."

 "What about school?"

 "I'll take a day off."

"School," he said, throwing the word away.

 "You're in a fine state."

"Is it all right to take a day off?"

 "No, I'm paid by the month, so I don't have to worry about having my pay docked.

Cunning is cunning, but simplicity is simplicity.

 "You can go, but do you know the way?"

 "How should I know?

I'll go by car, so it'll be all right."

 "I'm impressed that you're as familiar with Tokyo as my uncle in Shizuoka."

 "You can be as impressed as you like."

 "Hahaha, the Nihonzutsumi police station is no ordinary place.

It's Yoshiwara."

 "What?"

 "It's Yoshiwara."

 "The Yoshiwara with the brothels?"

 "That's right. There's only one Yoshiwara in Tokyo."

"How about it? Do you want to go and see it?" said Meitei, teasing him again.

 When he heard it was Yoshiwara, my master seemed to hesitate a little, but he immediately changed his mind and said, "Whether it's Yoshiwara or a brothel, once I've said I'm going, I'm going," and he showed his strength in a place where he couldn't enter.

Fools often show their stubbornness in such places.

 Meitei just said, "Well, it'll be interesting. Go and see it."

The criminal case that caused a stir was thus settled for the time being.

Meitei then continued to talk nonsense, and at dusk, he said that his uncle would be angry if he was too late, and went home.

 After Meitei left, the master finished his dinner and went back to his study. He folded his arms again and began to think as follows.

 "According to Meitei's story, Yagi Dokusen, whom I admired and tried to emulate, seems to be a person who is not worth emulating.

Moreover, his theory seems to be somewhat insane, and as Meitei says, it seems to belong to a somewhat insane system.

Not to mention that he has two crazy followers.

It is very dangerous.

If you get too close, you'll be dragged into the same system.

Tendou Kouhei, who I thought was a great man with great insight, is a pure madman and is currently living in a hospital in Sugamo.

Even if Meitei's description is a big joke, it is probably true that he is famous in the asylum and takes charge of the heavens.

I may be a little bit like that.

It is said that birds of a feather flock together, so if I am impressed by the madman's theory, or at least if I sympathize with his words, I must be a close relative of the madman.

Even if I am not cast in the same mold, if I live next to a madman, I may break through the wall and talk with him in the same room.

This is serious.

Indeed, when I think about it, the workings of my brain have been so strange and wonderful that I am surprised myself.

The chemical changes in the brain are such that when the will moves and becomes an act, and when it is uttered and becomes a word, there are many points that are strangely out of balance.

There is no dragon spring on the tongue, and no clear wind under the armpit, but there is a mad smell at the root of the teeth, and a mad taste at the head of the muscle.

This is getting serious.

I wonder if I'm already a good patient.

Fortunately, he hasn't hurt anyone or done anything to disturb the public, so he's still a citizen of Tokyo, not being chased out of the town.

This is not a matter of passive or active.

First, I have to check my pulse.

But my pulse seems to be the same.

I wonder if my head is hot.

I don't have a fever.

But I'm worried.

 "If I keep comparing myself to a lunatic and counting the similarities, I'll never be able to escape the lunatic's territory.

This was a bad method.

This is the conclusion because I interpret myself as a lunatic.

If I think of myself as a healthy person, I might get the opposite result.

I have to start with the nearest one.

First, what about the uncle in the frock coat who came today?

Where should I put my mind? That seems a little suspicious.

Second, what about Kangetsu?

He brings his lunch and polishes the ball from morning till night.

This is also a stick group.

Third, what about Meitei?

He knows that playing around is his calling.

He must be a positive lunatic.

Fourth, what about Kaneda's wife?

That poisonous nature is completely out of common sense.

He must be a pure tinkerer.

Fifth, it's Kaneda's turn.

I have never seen Kaneda, but when I see that he has respectfully set up his wife and that they are in harmony, I think it is safe to assume that he is an extraordinary person.

Since extraordinary is another name for crazy, I think it's safe to assume that he's one of them.

And then, and then, and then.

The gentlemen of the Rakuunkan, in terms of age, are still in their infancy, but in terms of mania, they are a splendid group of people who are capable of emptying the world.

When I count them up like this, it seems that most of them are of the same kind.

I'm feeling surprisingly strong.

Perhaps society is a gathering of madmen.

I wonder if society is a gathering of madmen who compete with each other, grab each other, quarrel with each other, curse each other, and rob each other, and the whole group lives like a cell, collapsing, rising, rising, and collapsing.

I wonder if they build lunatic asylums to lock up those who are somewhat rational and sensible, because they are a nuisance, and prevent them from getting out.

Then those who are confined in lunatic asylums are normal people, and those who are outside the asylum are madmen.

A madman may be treated as a madman as long as he is isolated, but when he becomes a group and gains power, he may become a sane person.

There are many cases where a big madman abuses his money and power to employ many small madmen to commit violence, and is said to be a fine man by others.

I don't know what's what anymore."

 The above is a faithful depiction of the mental process of my master as he pondered under the lonely lamp that night.

The opacity of his brain is also evident here.

Despite his Kaiser-like mustache, he is a fool who cannot even distinguish between a madman and a normal person.

Moreover, he had taken the trouble to present this problem and appeal to his own thinking power, but in the end he gave up without reaching any conclusion.

He is a man who has no brain power to think thoroughly about anything.

The fact that his conclusion is vague and difficult to capture, like the smoke of the morning sun gushing out of his nostrils, is the only feature of his argument that should be remembered.

 I am a cat.

Some may wonder how a cat can describe his master's mind so precisely, but this is nothing to a cat.

I now know how to read minds.

You don't have to ask me when I learned it.

Anyway, I know it.

While sleeping on a human's lap, I gently rub my soft fur against the human's belly.

Then a flash of electricity occurs and the inside of his belly is reflected in my mind's eye as if I were holding it in my hand.

The other day, my master was gently stroking my head when he suddenly had the outrageous idea of skinning me and making a vest out of my fur. I instantly sensed this and felt a chill run down my spine.

It's a scary thing.

It is my great honor to be able to report to you the above thoughts that occurred in my master's head that night.

However, my master thought until he "couldn't understand what was what" and then fell asleep. He must have forgotten what he had thought about and how far he had thought about it by the next day.

If my master ever thinks about madness in the future, he will have to start all over again from the beginning.

I cannot guarantee that he will take such a path and "not know what is what" in this way.

However, no matter how many times he reconsiders or how many paths he takes, it is certain that he will eventually "not know what is what".