I am a Cat – Chapter 10a
Natsume Sōseki – 1905
"You'd best get up. It's seven already." The wife calls out from the other side of the fusuma. The master,whether awake or still sleeping, has his back to her and produces no sound. To produce no sound is themaster's trademark. If absolutely compelled, the most he might manage is a short "um." Even eliciting thisshort "um" is no easy feat. There's a certain refinement in a man who guards his words, but among thelady folk such men are seldom endeared. Given that even the master's wife struggles to tolerate him, it's nogreat leap to suppose that the rest of womankind should wholly disdain him. A question posed in songasks, "Shunned by his own folk, what muse should ever adore him?" and so it goes with the master, whose
wife just barely abides him and whom other women find patently unappealing. There's no particular needhere to deliberately dwell on the master's lack of appeal to the opposite sex. I only mention it for the sakeof the master himself, lest he delude himself and attribute the wife's cold shoulder to the different stars
under which they were born.
If at the very time he prescribed, even when given notice, he dismisses that notice, turning away andproducing not the slightest response, then as the wife sees things, she's done her duty and any blame rests
with the husband. Let him be late if he wants to be late. Thus washing her hands of the matter, sheshoulders her broom and duster and marches off to the study. The sound of patting and sweeping, echoing
from various parts of the room, is the signature of her cleaning and dusting routine. Whether this routine isfor exercise, or whether it's some form of sport, is of no concern to a cat with no such responsibilities.
Though I've no need to involve myself, I must remark that the wife's approach to the matter seems utterly
pointless. The reason I deem it pointless, if I may be allowed to expound, is that she only cleans forcleaning's sake. She runs her duster over the shōji panes, then slides her broom over the tatami mats. With
that, she regards the room as clean. Effect and outcome concern her not in the least. Thus it is that theplaces that are cleaned are always clean, and the places with clutter and dust remain cluttered and dusty.
As in the tale told of Confucius and the routine sacrifice of the lamb, perhaps it's best she continue doing
as she does. However, it's hard to see where her cleaning serves the master. Given that it servers no
purpose, it's all the more laudable that she goes to lengths, day in and day out, to repeat it. Despite thelong-standing custom of the wife cleaning the house, and despite the ingrained mechanics of theassociated activities, this wife's cleaning does nothing to further the art. Going back to before she wasborn, or even back to before there were dusters and brooms, cleanliness has advanced not the least. As I
see it, this relationship between the wife and cleaning is akin to those dubious associations drawn between
disparate elements in a formal logic proposition.
Unlike the master, I'm by nature an early riser, and even at this hour, my stomach's already grumbling. As
the lowly cat, I've no hope of being fed in advance of the family members. Such is a cat's lot, but it's notinconceivable that enticing vapors could already be wafting up from some savory broth in my clamshell1ōI am a Cat – Chapter 10a – S seki Projectbowl, and just the thought of this spurs me to my feet. When one's hope lies in fickle fantasies, and one
knows them to be fickle, it's best to stay put and just relish the hope for hope's sake. That being said, I
can't refrain from searching out the visions playing in my mind's eye. Even in the face of certain
disappointment, there's no peace to be had until that disappointment is met head on. Unable to containmyself, I crawl out to the kitchen. First stop is my clamshell bowl in back of the stove. As expected, it's
licked clean from the evening prior. In silence and stillness, it glows with the weak rays of early autumn
sun that spill through the opening over the transom. Osan has scooped freshly-cooked rice into the wooden
serving vessel and is stirring a pot on the earthenware brazier. The outside of the iron pot is adorned withmyriad streaks of dried-on rice broth that's leaked down its sides, looking in places like it's been plasteredover with yoshino paper. As the rice is done and the pot well along, the time is right, as I see it, for feeding
the cat. Where nothing is ventured, nothing is gained, and there's no harm in trying. I may not get what I'mafter, but I at least intend to give it a go. Though a free lodger in this house, I'm hungry nonetheless. Thus
determined, I let loose with a series of mews, buttering up, appealing, and also tinged with a hint of
discontent. Osan pays me no heed. She's a homely thing, and always has been, and never been known to
exude any feminine warmth. It's my mission, though, to cry up to her just so and elicit some sympathy.
I try again with my very best mews. These are first-rate, if I do say so myself, tinged with tragic resolveand evoking the image of a lonely wanderer too long in distant lands. Osan, fully unmoved, again pays noheed. It may be this woman is deaf. A deaf woman could hardly function as a maidservant, so it may be
the case she's selectively deaf to cats. There's such a thing in this world as colorblindness. Those afflicted
believe they are seeing just fine, but any doctor would declare their eyes deficient. Osan is seemingly mew
blind and thus deficient, which makes her haughtiness all the more comical. In the night, when I've
pressing business and make it known that I need to go out, she never opens the door. When on rareoccasions I do make it out, she doesn't let me back in. Summer dew is bad for my coat, and autumn frost
even more so. Until one's passed a night under the eaves, on one's feet and awaiting the dawn, one can't
imagine the hardship. The other day, unfortunate enough to find myself shut outside again, I was accosted
by a stray dog. Just as I thought I was done for, I managed to somehow clamber onto the roof of the shed,
where I spent the rest of the night trembling. All of these misfortunes were direct consequences of Osan's
inhumanity. Mewing up to such a creature, one can hardly expect any sympathy. All the same, it's a wellknown fact that hunger drives one to prayer, poverty drives one to theft, and a lonely heart drives one topen prose. Yours truly is no exception. After three tries with my best mew, I up my game even more,
emitting an exquisite series of cries. The result, I'm firmly convinced, is nothing less impressive than anyof Beethoven's symphonies, yet Osan remains unmoved. She drops to her knees, lifts and removes a loose
floorboard, and pulls out a new stick of charcoal. She takes the stick of charcoal and taps it against thecorner of the brazier, breaking it into three shorter pieces, blackening the vicinity with charcoal dust in theprocess. Some of the dust seems to land in the pot, but Osan's not the kind of woman to concern herself
with such trifles. Her focus is on the fire as she pushes her new sticks of charcoal under the bottom edgeof the pot. She's not about to lend an ear to my symphony. Defeated and dejected, I start back toward the2ōI am a Cat – Chapter 10a – S seki Projectliving room. As I pass the bathing room, it's abuzz with activity. The three daughters are busily washing
their faces.
When I say they're washing their faces, bear in mind that the older two are still preschoolers, and the
youngest is too small to even tag along behind them. They're a far cry from proficient in preparing
themselves for the start of the day. The small one has grabbed the wet cleaning rag out of the bucket and is
rubbing it over her face. It can't be the best of feelings to rub one's face with this rag, but this is the samechild who shrieks with delight when tremblers shake the house, so her antics here hardly merit mention.
Then again, perhaps she's an ascetic, already outracing Yagi Dokusen on the path to self-awareness. The
eldest sister, the self-anointed leader of this small crew, pushes aside the rinsing cup with a clank. "Little
gal, that there is a rag!" She reaches to pull it away. Little gal, firm in her convictions, is not about torelinquish her rag to this older sister. "Uh uh! Babu!" With that, she yanks it back. No one knows themeaning or origin of this word "Babu!" It's exclusively heard, though, when Little gal is upset. The rag is
being pulled back and forth between the older sister's hand and Little gal's hand and dripping incessantly
onto Little gal's legs as it's center is wrung out. Wet legs are one thing, but it's also dousing her knees andher lap. Little gal is wearing a genroku. This word "genroku," as I've gathered from asking around, canrefer to just about any outfit at all, as long as the fabric is modestly-patterned. I've no idea where they getthese words. "Little gal, let's stop this before your genroku's soaked," the older sister wisely advises. Wisethough her counsel may be, this well-informed older sibling was known previously to confuse "genroku"
with the board game "sugoroku."
This recalls to my mind how often these children confuse words, often at the expense of personal
embarrassment. A fire sends mushrooms (kinoko) rather than sparks (hinoko) through the air. The girls'
school isn't in Cha-no-mizu, but rather Cha-no-miso. The companion god of Ebisu is daidoko (kitchen)rather than Daikoku. "I'm no straw shop girl," is a common retort. This one confused me until I realized it
was a mix-up of straw shop (waradana) and backstreet (uradana). The master smirks at such blunders.
Then he heads off to the school, steps up onto the classroom podium with all seriousness, and instructs his
charges in blunder-laden and cringeworthy English.
Little gal -- who incidentally refers to herself not as Little gal but as Lil gal -- takes note of her wet
genroku and cries out, "Gendoko wet!" Fearing the child will catch cold, Osan rushes out from the
kitchen, snatches the cleaning rag, and wipes her dry. Throughout all this, the one who's been relatively
quiet is Miss Sunko, the second daughter. Miss Sunko is turned away and occupied with a jar of white facepowder that's rolled off an upper shelf. She's opened the jar and proceeds to make herself up. Her firstmove is to take her finger, whitened with powder, and run it down her nose to the tip. This nose, normallynondescript, now stands out in relief. The next stop for her whitened fingers is her cheekbones, which aredaubed into white circles. At this point, the maidservant enters the scene, and after wiping Lil gal's dressclean turns her rag on Sunko's face. Sunko's a bit put out.
3ōI am a Cat – Chapter 10a – S seki Project

I take these scenes in in passing, making my way to the living room and then on to the room where themaster sleeps. Thinking to see if he's awake, I quietly peek in. The master's head is nowhere to be seen.
All I can see is one large, arched foot protruding from under the edge of the bedding. Apparently
concerned that his exposed head might be subject to another wake-up call, he's turtled in and hid himself
under the quilt. As he lies there concealed, the wife, who has finished cleaning the study and is stillshouldering her broom and duster, reappears. From the threshold, she calls out as before.
"Still not up?" Having called out, she stands there for a moment, surveying the headless mass of bedding.
Again receiving no answer, she advances several steps and gives the mat a firm thrust with her broom.
"Don't you think you'd best be up?" She's determined to have an answer. The master is, in fact, awake. It's
because he's awake that he's steeled himself against the wife's assault by burying himself, head and all, in
his bedding. He's fostering some foolish notion that if he simply lies low, head out of sight, the wife will
let him be. The course of events, however, is proving otherwise. Her first call to him was from thethreshold, some half a room away, which had given him some sense of security. The thrust of the broom
was closer, only half again as far, which had put some fear in him. Her second call was louder and closer
yet, penetrating the covers with double or more the force. Realizing his ruse is up, he reluctantly musters afeeble grunt.
"You need to be there by nine, do you not? Better get moving or you won't make it."
"I know that. That's why I'm getting up now." This response, coming from somewhere under the bedding,is none too credible. The wife's been through this before, assured that the master was waking up, only tohave him fall back to sleep on her. "Well get up then." She stays on him, ever vigilant. Being told to getup, after one's already said one's getting up, infuriates a self-centered man like the master, who at thispoint finally throws off the bedding under which he's been hiding. Both his eyes are wide open.
"Enough of your racket. If I say I'm getting up, I'm getting up."
"To say you're getting up is one thing. I'll believe it when I see it."
"When have I ever backtracked, faking and staying in bed?""Only all the time.""Nonsense!""We'll see who's talking nonsense." The wife stands her ground, broom planted firmly by the master's
pillow, with a defiant scowl on her face. At this moment Yatchan, the youngster from the cartman's placethat back's to the master's, breaks out bawling. Yatchan is under orders from the cartman's wife to parrot
the master's outbursts with fits of his own. This is all well and good for the cartman's wife, who earns4ōI am a Cat – Chapter 10a – S seki Projectpocket money by setting her child off whenever the master is riled, but it's a terrible imposition on thechild himself. With a mother like that, he'd just as well bawl all day, straight from morning through night.
The master, for his part, should sense what's going on and refrain from his outbursts, if nothing other thanfor Yatchan's sake. Kaneda may be funding all this, but only a full-fledged deviant, worse by far thanTendō Kōhei, would carry out such asinine orders. It would be one thing if Yatchan's bawling was only inresponse to the master's outbursts, but every time the local rogues, again at Kaneda's bidding, came out toharangue the master with shouts of "Imado no Tanuki," Yatchan has to bawl. Whether the master is truly
riled or not, his outrage is anticipated, and Yatchan is hence set to bawling. In these cases, it's unclear
whether the master's outbursts are setting off Yatchan's bawling or Yatchan's bawling is triggering themaster's outbursts. The master has thin skin and frayed nerves, so a simple scolding of Yatchan, whichstarts him bawling cross the way, is as good as a slap to the master's face. It's told that in Westerncountries, in times past, when a criminal fled the land and escaped justice, they would sculpt an image in
his likeness and burn him in effigy. Among Kaneda's minions, it would seem, is a strategist well-versed insuch traditions and applying them tactfully in present-day form. Whether the boys of Rakuunkan or
Yatchan's mother, the master is ill-equipped to counter the forces that assail him. Stated more generally,
the master is ill-equipped to process anything and everything that surrounds him. There's more I could
expound on, but all in due time, lest I stray too far from the matter at hand.
Yatchan's cries, early in the morning, seem to grate on the master's nerves. In an instant, he's seatedhimself bolt upright on the bedding. At this point, his cultivation of the spirit, together with Yagi Dokusen,
are good as gone. In sitting up, he scratches his head vigorously with both hands. A month's worth ofdandruff comes floating down in response, alighting on his pajama collar and the back of his neck. It'squite the sight. As for his whiskers, these too are something to behold. They're standing on end, stock
straight. Perhaps sensing that they mustn't lie still through their owner's agitation, each hair is on edge,
thrusting itself forward in its own chosen direction. Another minor spectacle. Just the day prior, owing inpart to the scrutiny of the mirror, they'd lined up orderly, after the manner of his german majesty Wilhelm
II. Just one night's sleep, though, and all grooming is forgotten. They've all reverted to their own habits,
naturally facing this way and that. When I think on how this ill-tempered man, with these ill-temperedwhiskers, has remained thus far in his teaching post, I can't but marvel at the vastness and variety of thisland that's Japan. And it's this same vastness and variety that lets Kaneda and his snitches pass themselves
off as respectable human beings. As long as Kaneda's lot are passing themselves off as respectable humanbeings, the master can reason with some assurance, then he himself has every right to continue as an
instructor. Should doubts ever arise, he can always fire off correspondence to Tendō Kōhei in Sugamo
seeking cousel.
At this moment, the master's dull and hazy eyes, which I described in detail the day prior, fix their stare on
the cabinet cross the room. The height of this cabinet is about one meter, and it's partitioned horizontally
into top and bottom shelves, each with two papered sliding doors. The bottom shelf all but touches the5ōI am a Cat – Chapter 10a – S seki Projectcorner of his bedding, so it's only natural that the master's line of sight, as he sits himself up and opens hiseyes, should land here. The patterned paper of the sliding doors is torn in places, revealing curious designs
in the paper batting that backs it up. Some of these batting papers are printed matter. Others are handscribed. Some are face down and some are upside down. As the master surveys this batting, curiosity getsthe better of him, and he finds himself wanting to know what's written on these various fragments. It may
seem odd that the same master, who just moments ago was angry enough to seize the cartman's wife, push
her mug into a pine tree, and with it scrape the rough bark smooth, is suddenly fixated on reading paper
scraps, but such is the nature of sparky hotheads. It's no different than a crying child pacified by a sweet.
In former times, when the master lodged in a certain Buddhist temple, a handful of nuns occupied the
adjoining room. When it comes to vile women, nuns are as vile as they come, and these vile nuns read themaster like a book. While cooking their food, they were known to tap their kettle and sing to the beat.
"The crow that cried's now smiling wide, the crow that cried's now smiling wide." The master to this day
harbors an intense dislike of nuns, but be that as it may, the nuns were not off base. While the master ishighly animated, crying, laughing, swaggering, or sulking in the extreme, none of these moods ever lasts
for long. Seen in a positive light, he doesn't fixate on or obsess over things, and his outlook on life isconstantly refreshing itself. In simpler, more vulgar terms, though, he's a shallow, wavering, and highly
cantankerous brat-child. Given his brat-child nature, it should be no surprise when his hankering for aquarrel, once he's roused himself to his senses, might abruptly fall away and yield instead to intenseinterest in deciphering the writings on old paper batting in a cabinet door. The first to paper to hit his eye
is an upside-down image of Itō Hirobumi. At its top is inscribed, "September 28, Meiji 11." The Korean
Resident-General, it seems, from these earlier days was already chasing his own edict-adorned tail.
Wondering what the old boss was up to back then, the master strains to piece together obfuscated text.
"Minister of Finance" reveals itself. Clearly a man of prestige. Even upside down and standing on his
head, a Minister is a Minister. Off to the left is the same Minister of Finance, this time reposing sideways.
Of course. After very much time on one's head, rest is in order. Below, in wooden typeset print, are thewords "You all ..." What follows, unfortunately, cannot be seen. On the next line down, "without delay," isprinted. This too is regrettably in isolation, with what follows obscured. If the master were an investigatorwith the Metropolitan Police, he would no doubt peel back the outer layer of paper, despite the cabinet
owner's objections. Investigators, who are seldom learned men, are known to do anything and everything
to get at the facts. This can lead to bad outcomes, with one wishing they were better versed in discretion.
Facts alone, without discretion, are a dangerous thing. From what I hear, they're known to ensnare good
citizens, catching them up in a web of iniquity. Given that these investigators are agents of the citizenry,
it's utter insanity that a good citizen should be dragged into the mire at the hands of these same agents.
Shifting his gaze toward the center, the master next catches sight of Ōita Prefecture tumbling throughspace. If Itō Hirobumi is standing on his head, then it's only natural that Ōita Prefecture be tumbling
through space. Having thus scrutinized these scraps of old paper, the master balls up both fists and thrusts
them skyward in preparation for a yawn.
6ōI am a Cat – Chapter 10a – S seki Project

The master's yawn, like the cry of a whale, is characterized by waves of intricate undulations. As it finallysubsides, he slowly changes out of his bed clothes and heads off to the washroom to wash his face. The
wife, who's been waiting in the wings, promptly folds up the bedding and bed clothes and sets into hercleaning routine. Just as the wife cleans per routine, the master washes his face per his own longestablished routine. As I've previously described, his usual sounds of "ge-ge" and "ga-ga" echo from thewashroom. After carefully parting his hair, he enters the living room in grand fashion, his Western-style
hand towel draped over his shoulder, and casually takes his place by the long side of the brazier. At themention of a long-sided brazier, some may imagine marbled zelkova wood, with inlaid copper lining, anda young maiden seated thereby with freshly washed hair and one knee drawn up, tapping a long-necked
pipe against the black-persimmon edging. In the case of our dear Kushami, though, the long-sided brazier
is by no means anything so stylish. It's antiquated to the point that no layman could possibly discern its
nature. The great merit of a long-sided brazier is the sheen it acquires through years of polishing, but inthe case of this particular article, that's seldom seen a cleaning cloth and is greatly the worse for wear, it's
entirely unclear what its dark shadows hide, be it zelkova, cherry, or paulownia. When asked where it was
procured, the master and his wife have no recollection of procuring it anywhere. In which case someone
gifted it to them, yet they can identify no such giver. Such being the case, one has to ask if it's pilfered,and the answer here is none too clear. Long ago, among their relations, was an old retired couple. The
couple passed away, and the master and his wife were asked to hold down the property. Then, as it's told,
when it came time to move out and establish their own household, this brazier, which they'd been using as
their own, just naturally came with. The whole thing seems a bit underhanded. At the same time, while a
bit underhanded, it's not at all out of the ordinary. Take the banker, for example, who handles others'money every day. Over time, they say, he comes to regard this money as his own. Then there aregovernment officials, servants of the citizenry entrusted with authority for handling affairs on behalf of
those they represent. However, as they carry out business, day after day, wearing this mantle of borrowed
authority, they're apt to lose their bearings, imagining their authority is their own and consigning thecitizenry to irrelevance. Given the prevalence of such cases, it would hardly be proper to fault the masterfor sticky fingers. If the master is at fault for sticky fingers, then so too is the bulk of humanity.
In taking up his position by the brazier, the master has also taken up his position by the dining table.
Seated around the other three sides, and already working through their breakfasts, are Lil gal, who somemoments ago had been washing her face with the cleaning rag, Tonko, who goes to school not in"Chanomizu" but "Chanomiso," and Sunko, whose finger had found its way into the jar of white facepowder. The master casts his gaze over each of the three girls in turn. Tonko's face is round like the hand
guard on a foreign-made sword. Sunko bears some resemblance to her older sister, adding the blush of avermilion tray, lacquered in the style of the Ryūkyū islands. Only Lil gal displays a distinctive
countenance, oval in form. While an oval face is no rarity, the longer axis is most always oriented top-tobottom. Lil gal's face, in contrast, is oval side-to-side. Standards of beauty are apt to change with time, buta face like this, stretched from side-to-side, is highly unlikely to ever find favor. The master reflects7ōI am a Cat – Chapter 10a – S seki Projectintently at times on these children of his. They're all growing. Like bamboo sprouts in a Zen temple thatovernight erupt into young stalks, the pace and vigor of growth is astounding. Every time he marks their
growth, he can't but feel harried, as though time is fast on his heels. Even the master, absent-minded as heis, is well aware that these three daughters will grow into young women. And given that they'll grow into
young women, he's also aware that they'll need to be married off. Awareness is one thing, but the ability tocarry through is another. This too weighs on the master's mind. In short, he's ill-equipped to manage thedisposition of his own offspring. One shouldn't produce what one's not equipped to manage, but such is
the human condition. In fact, the defining characteristic of humanity rests exactly on this point. Suffice it
to say that men subject themselves to endless torment through imprudent products of their own making.
One has to admire these children. Oblivious to their father's fretting over their futures, they're happily
eating breakfast. Lil gal, however, is a bit out of hand. She'll be turning three this year, and her mother,thinking ahead, has equipped her with an age-appropriate small set of chopsticks and small bowl. Lil gal,though, is having none of it. Having seized her older sister's bowl and grabbed her older sister's
chopsticks, her little hands struggle to wield them. In the world in general, it's the pettiest of men, lacking
in talent or abilities, who strive hardest to force their way into positions of influence for which they're
patently unqualified. This tendency is already evident in Lil gal's conduct. Given how deep-seated it is, it
can't be remedied through education or training, and any attempt to do so is in vain.
Lil gal, with the large bowl and full-length chopsticks plundered from her neighbor, is a force to be
reckoned with. Determined to use these sticks that are too big for her little hands, the inevitable outcome
is unbridled havoc. Gripping both sticks together in a single fist, her first move is to thrust them down tothe bottom of the bowl. In said bowl is a solid layer of rice beneath a floating surface of miso soup. As the
sticks hit their mark, the bowl, until now holding its own, is suddenly tilted some thirty degrees by the
impact. As it tilts, soup splashes and streams down Lil gal's front. Such occurrence does little to deter her.
She unleashes her next assault, this time striking deep and rooting up rice. As the rice comes up, shebrings her small mouth to the bowl's brim, capturing a number of grains in the process. Those grains shedoesn't capture, along with the amber broth, jump free and cling to the tip of her nose, the sides of hercheeks, and the front of her chin. Additional grains, failing to cling anywhere, end up out of play on thetatami mat. As methods of eating rice go, it's highly inefficient. A respectful note of caution here, if I may
be so indulged, for Kaneda and other men of influence in this world. If such leaders work their fellow men
the way Lil gal works this bowl and chopsticks, most all flying grains will escape their open mouths. Whatthey do take in will be not by design or force of will, but merely by random happenstance. Due reflection
is in order here. To be truly capable men, wise in the ways of the world, they'll have to devise a better
approach.
Tonko, the eldest sister, having lost her own chopsticks and bowl to Lil gal's raid, is making due as best
she can with the smaller items, but the small bowl, even when full, is good for no more than three8ōI am a Cat – Chapter 10a – S seki Projectmouthfuls. As a result, she's constantly reaching for the server. Helping number four is gone, and she's on
to number five. She lifts the lid of the server, picks up the big scoop, and regards it a moment. She seems
to waver, unsure if she really wants a fifth helping. Finally, with newfound resolve, she dives in with the
scoop, avoiding the charred grains. She deftly lifts the scoop, piled high with rice, but things go awry as
she flips it over to fill the bowl. The bowl catches only part of the rice, with the excess tumbling down
onto the tatami in a clump. Tonko, with full composure, carefully recovers the fallen rice. However, rather
than discard it, she drops it back in the server. A bit unsavory, I must say.
The moment Tonko finishes serving up her rice is the same moment in which Lil gal is aggressively
rooting up rice with her oversized chopsticks. Acting the older sister, Tonko is not about to let pass thecondition of Lil gal's face. "Lil gal, look at you, you're covered with rice!" So declaring, she sets to work
tidying up. Starting with Lil gal's nose, she picks away its resident rice grains. Surprisingly, she doesn'tpick off these grains and discard them, but rather puts them into her own mouth. Next she works thecheeks. There are quite a few grains here, maybe twenty in all on both sides. With meticulous repetition,
she picks off one grain and eats it, picks off another and eats it. Finally, she's eaten every offending grain,
and Lil gal's face is rice-free. In this moment Sunko, who until now has been quietly crunching pickled
daikon radish, suddenly unearths sweet potato pieces from beneath the filled-to-the-brim surface of her
miso soup and eagerly shovels them into her mouth. As my dear readers well know, nothing hits one's
mouth as hot as sweet potato fished from steaming soup. Even an adult palate, if one's not careful, will
feel the scald. Much more so one like Sunko then, whose experience with sweet potatoes is limited andfrom whom a panicked reaction is only to be expected. She lets out a cry and ejects the offending potato
pieces from her mouth onto the table. The ejected pieces, as it happens, slide to a stop just in front of Lilgal. Lil gal, who's always been fond of sweet potatoes, immediately tosses aside her chopsticks, collects
the potato pieces in her fists, and pushes them into her mouth.
The master, bearing witness to this chaos around him, has offered not a word. He's been focused on eating
his own rice and drinking his own soup, and he's now picking his teeth with a toothpick. When it comes tohis daughters' upbringing, the master appears to have committed himself wholeheartedly to nonintervention. All three could, before too long, be donning the shrimp-brown hakama of college girls, or a
rat-gray hakama for that matter, and all three could, as if on cue, abscond with their beaus. The master, for
his part, would be unperturbed, still eating his own rice and drinking his own soup. He's devoid of all
ambition. On the other hand, when one looks at ambition in this day and age, it seems to consist of nothing
more than snaring the innocent with lies, wielding shrewdness to get oneself ahead, intimidating others
through false fronts, or entrapping the gullible with trickery. Middle schoolers, even from their first year,
are quick to pick up on this conduct, deluding themselves that this is how one makes one's mark. Whatshould by all rights be grounds for shame, they practice with great fanfare, imagining themselves
gentlemen in the making. These are not what one can call productive citizens. They're better referred to as
thugs. I'm a Japanese cat and am by no means unpatriotic. When I see such men posturing as citizens, my
9ōI am a Cat – Chapter 10a – S seki Projectfirst instinct is to level them good with a hard smack. Each and every one is a blight on the national honor.
Any school housing such students only debases itself, as does any country hosting such citizens. Despite
being grounds for shame, such men these days seem to litter the landscape in ever-increasing numbers.
Why is beyond me. The men of Japan, it seems, lack the mettle of the nation's cats. A wretched situation,indeed. Compared to these thugs, I have to say that the master is by far the better man. He's better forlacking in ambition. He's better for lacking in competence. And he's better for lacking in audacity.
The master, thus taking breakfast in his own time and without mishap, finishes eating, dons his suit,boards a hired cart, and heads off for the Nihonzutsumi branch. On stepping out the front door, his firstaction is to ask the cartman if he knows Nihonzutsumi. The cartman just grins in response. "It's right by
Yoshiwara, known for its red light district," the master adds for good measure. The whole exchange strikes
me as comical.
After the master makes his uncharacteristic departure by cart, the wife, per habit, finishes her own
breakfast and then turns to the children. "Off to school. You don't want to be late." "But today's a holiday,"the children answer back in a leisurely manner, showing no signs of movement. "Since when is today aholiday? Hurry on now," she reprimands. "The teacher reminded us, just yesterday." The eldest sister digs
in and stands her ground. The wife, thinking something's amiss, goes to the cupboard and takes out thecalendar. Sure enough, the day is marked in red. The master, utterly unaware, had drafted up a notice ofabsence to dispatch to the school. The wife, also unaware, had walked out and posted it. Meitei too had
seemed not in the know, though one never can tell with Meitei. He may well have known and merely been
faking. Surprised by this new revelation, the wife tells the children to go play quietly. She then proceeds totake out her sewing box, as always, and sets to work.
For the next thirty minutes, all is calm in the house, with nothing noteworthy to report, until suddenly an
odd caller appears - a schoolgirl of seventeen or eighteen. In shoes with worn heels, trailing a purple
hakama, and with hair done up like abacus beads, she lets herself in unannounced through the side
entrance. This is the master's niece. From what I gather, she's a student somewhere. She calls from time totime on Sundays, has it out with the master on various topics, then takes her leave. Her name is Yukie,
which has a lovely ring to it, but her features, I hate to say, do not live up to the billing. Walk one or two
blocks down the street, and you'll soon enough see a similar hum-drum face.
"Hello, Auntie," she calls out as she proceeds into the living room and plops herself down by the sewingbox.
"Well, look who's bright and early ..."
"Since we all have the day off today, I thought I'd pay my regards. I left at half past eight and camestraight over."10ōI am a Cat – Chapter 10a – S seki Project

"I see. Is there something you need?""Nope. Just that it's been a while, so I thought I'd call for a bit.""Don't make it just a bit. Stay as long as you like. Your uncle will be back soon.""He's already out? That's unlike him.""You'll never guess where he went today. ... To see the police. Unusual, don't you think?""Unusual indeed. Whatever for?""They caught the fellow who robbed us last spring.""So uncle's been summoned to court? What a pain.""Not at all. It's about our belongings. Yesterday an officer came by to inform us our things were recovered,so we should go and claim them.""That explains it. It takes a lot to get Uncle up and out this early in the day. Normally, he'd be sleeping
away still.""When it comes to sleeping in, nobody rivals your uncle. ... And one wakes him at one's own peril. Just
this morning, he'd told me to be sure to wake him by seven, so I did as instructed. What does he do? He
turtles in under the quilts and ignores me. I'm worried he'll oversleep, so I go back after a short while andwake him again. This time, he mutters back at me through the sleeve opening of his bed quilt. It's really
too much.""How can he sleep so much? Must be his nerves are shot.""I wonder.""He really does have a short temper. I can't see how they put up with him at the school.""From what I hear, when he's at the school he's deferential and reserved.""That just makes him all the worse. Have you heard the term 'jelly-wobble devil?' That's him to a tee.""How so?""It's just what he is. Jelly-wobble devil is perfectly apt."11

ōI am a Cat – Chapter 10a – S seki Project

"It's not just his temper, you know. Say 'right' and he goes left. Tell him 'left' and he's sure to go right. He's
never once listened to anyone else -- he's stubborn like a mule.""He's Amanojaku incarnate, defiant by design. If you want him to do something, just tell him the opposite
and he'll give you the outcome you're after. The other day, when I had him by me an umbrella, I made apoint of insisting I didn't need one. 'Of course you need one!' he argued back and proceeded to buy it
without hesitation.""Ho ho ho. Well done! From here on I'll follow suit.""By all means, give it a try. Otherwise you're just beating a dead horse.""The other day a man from the insurance company called, recommending that we should by all means
have a policy. --- He explained why at great length, taking an hour to cover this and that merit. With very
little savings and three children, I'd rest easier knowing we at least had insurance, but your uncle showedno such inclination.""I'm with you. It's worrisome to imagine if something should happen." For a young lady of seventeen oreighteen, Yukie's surprisingly sympathetic when it comes to domestic affairs.
"I witnessed an interesting exchange, let me tell you. 'I don't deny the need for insurance. The fact that
insurance companies exist and prosper attests to this need. However, unless one actually dies, what's thepoint in owning a policy?' Your uncle dug in from the start.""Uncle said that?""He did. 'Of course there's no need for insurance if you don't die,' the salesman conceded, 'but human life,
which seems so enduring, is actually quite fleeting. There are hazards all around, both seen and unseen.''Not to worry,' your uncle countered, casting all reason aside, 'I for one am resolved not to die.'""Resolve or no, every man dies. It's like my exams. I had every intention of passing, yet in the end I failed
to make the grade.""The insurance man made the same point. 'No man dictates the number of his days. If resolve sufficed toassure long life, then who would ever die young?'""The insurance man's in the right.""Absolutely. But try telling that to your uncle. 'I'm not going to die. I'll even swear to it,' he boasts inreturn."12ōI am a Cat – Chapter 10a – S seki Project

"Odd.""Odd indeed. More than odd. Even if he had the money for insurance payments, he asserts matter-offactly, he'd be better off depositing it with the bank.""Do you have much savings?""None to speak of. What happens to us after he's gone is furthest from his mind.""That's rather unsettling. How did he come to be so? I don't see like tendencies in any of his associates.""Of course not. He's always the odd man out.""Maybe you could have Suzuki try to talk some sense into him. Suzuki is a calming presence and justmight pull it off.""Suzuki, I'm afraid, is not in favor round here.""That figures. In which case, how about that other fellow -- you know, the easygoing one --""You mean Yagi?""Yes.""Yagi too is in bad repute. Meitei was here yesterday and dished on him good. After that, an appeal from
Yagi is unlikely to carry any weight.""Isn't it still worth a try? He's such a grounding presence --- the other day I heard him talk at school.""Yagi gave a talk?""He did.""Is he part of the teaching staff?""No, he's not one of our teachers, but he was invited to talk at a Society for Womanly Virtues gathering.""Was it interesting?""To tell the truth, not really. But that long face of his, and the way he channels Tenjin with a like goatee,
had everyone enthralled."13ōI am a Cat – Chapter 10a – S seki Project"What did he talk on?" Just as the wife poses this question, the three children, having heard Yukie's voicecarrying across the veranda, come spilling into the room on hurried feet. They're back, it would seem,from beyond the bamboo fence, where they run and play in the vacant lot.
"Yukie's here!" the two older sisters call out with excitement. "No need for an uproar," the wife
admonishes. "Settle down and have a seat. Yukie has an interesting story to tell us." With that, she setsaside her work in the corner. "What kind of story? I love stories." This from Tonko. "Is it Kachi-kachi
Yama?" This question from Sunko. "Lil gal story too," the youngest daughter adds as she wedges in, knees
forward, between her older sisters. However, in Lil gal's case it's not about hearing Yukie's story but rather
telling her own. "Not Lil gal's story again," the older sisters laugh. "You'll have to wait your turn. Yukie's
up first," the wife advises. Lil gal asserts herself. "Babu!" she cries in her loudest voice. "Well then, let's
hear Lil gal first. What have you got for us?" Yukie yields the floor.
"Here goes. Bōtan, Bōtan, where are you off to?"
"Good so far. What's next?""Off to the field, to gather my rice.""Really, well told.""You can't come. You'll hinter me.""It's not 'hinter,' it's 'hinder,'" Tonko interjects. "Babu!" exclaims Lil gal, again at top volume, taking hersister to task for the unwelcome intrusion. However, having once paused in her storytelling, she forgets
where she was and struggles to resume. "Is that all dear?" Yukie enquires.
"Here's more. Don't you fart. I won't have no puu, puu puu.""Oh my. Enough please. Where on earth did you learn that?""From Otan.""Shame on Osan, teaching such things." The wife forces a smile. "Let's give Yukie her turn now. Sit
quietly and give her your best attention." Thus instructed, even Lil gal reigns in her restlessness and settles
down.
"Here's what Yagi told us." Yukie finally starts in. "Long ago, in the dead center of a crossroad, stood alarge stone Jizō. Unfortunately, though, this crossroad was a bustling place, with myriad horses and carts,and this Jizō hampered their flow. The townspeople gathered together, and after discussing the matter14

ōI am a Cat – Chapter 10a – S seki Projectconcluded that it must, somehow, be relocated from its present central spot to one of the crossroad
corners.""It this a true story?""I wonder. He didn't say if it was or wasn't true. --- anyway, as the folks were all still talking, the strongest
man in town stepped up, suggested he could handily move the Jizō, and set off alone for the crossroad.
Once there, he stripped himself to the waist and heaved and hoed till he was dripping with sweat. The Jizō,
however, didn't budge in the least.""It must have been heavy.""It was. The strongman wore himself out and went home to rest, so the townspeople reconvened. This
time another fellow, the cleverest man among them, raised his hand and offered to tackle the task.
Entrusted to go and try, he filled a box with layers of botamochi and set out to engage the Jizō. Once infront of it, he called, 'Come get some,' while showing off his wares. Jizō are voracious eaters, so hefigured he could surely entice this particular Jizō to yield its spot in exchange for a meal, but no such luck.
Setting aside the mochi, he next filled a bottle gourd with saké. Dangling the bottle gourd from one handand holding a small cup in the other, he returned again to tempt the Jizō. 'Wouldn't a drink be nice now? If
you'd like a drink, just follow me.' For three hours he taunted and tempted the Jizō, all to no effect.""But Yukie, isn't the Jizō hungry?" Tonko asks. "I want botamochi," Sunko adds.
"Having thus failed twice, the clever fellow next printed up a stash of counterfeit banknotes. 'Is it wealthyou want? Come with me and all this is yours,' he called as he repeatedly held out the notes and drew
them back. To this, the Jizō reacted not in the least. It was stubborn and loathe to move.""Stubborn indeed. Just like your uncle.""Exactly like Uncle. In the end, the clever fellow'd exhausted his means and quit. Next came a boastfulchap, known for blowing his own horn. 'Rest assured and leave it to me,' he declared, as if success were aforegone conclusion.""What did the braggart do?""This is where it gets interesting. First off, he dressed himself as a police officer, even gluing a false
mustache to his upper lip. Then he approached the Jizō and spoke in a forceful tone. 'Listen, buddy, you'd
best be moving along. We're the law here, and we're not gonna let this slide.' I don't know about then, but
no one today, of course, would pay such bluster much mind.""I'd have to agree. So what happened? Did the Jizō move?"15

ōI am a Cat – Chapter 10a – S seki Project"What do you think? He and Uncle are two of a kind.""But your uncle, when it comes to police officers, is shamefully obsequious.""Is he! In spite of that defiant demeanor? Then it must be his bark is worse than his bite. But at any rate,
the Jizō, as it's told, calmly held its ground. The braggart, most upset at this lack of respect, ripped off his
policeman's outfit and tossed his false mustache into the trash. For his next shot at the Jizō, he dressed
himself to the nines and reappeared as a man of great wealth. In today's terms, he was Baron Iwasaki.
Comical, is it not?""What does Baron Iwasaki look like?""Larger than life, I suppose. Rather than any direct action, and with no words spoken, the braggart lit up alarge cigar and paced round the Jizō blowing smoke.""And what did that do?""It veiled the Jizō in a shroud of smoke.""Like something from an old-time storyteller's tale. Did the enshrouded Jizō capitulate?""Not in the least. It was stone, after all. It was time to dispense with deceptions, one would think, but thebraggart came at it again, this time garbed up as royalty. Lunacy, if you ask me.""Did they even have royals back then?""I take it they did. At least according to Yagi. He definitely told us the braggart, disrespectful though itsounds, decked himself out as some certain Royal Highness -- for starters most irreverent, given his own
more-than-humble origins.""Which Royal Highness did he deck himself out as?"
"Which Royal Highness? Well whichever Royal Highness, this braggart's posing did the Highness nofavors.""Without doubt.""The Royal Highness garb too was a bust, so the braggart, having exhausted himself of ideas, gave up andslunk away in defeat.""Taking his just deserts."16

ōI am a Cat – Chapter 10a – S seki Project"In part at least - hard labor was his better just deserts. -- But anyway, the townsfolk were still in a bind.
They gathered again and talked again, but no one came forward to champion the task. They were plumbout of options.""Is that the end?""Not quite. As one final effort, they hired all the cartmen and rogues they could find to parade around theJizō and stir up a ruckus. Hoping to pester it so that it had to leave, they banged and clattered day andnight in shifts.""A noble effort for sure.""Even at that, to no effect at all. The Jizō prevailed in its obstinance.""What did they do then?" Tonko eagerly asks.
"At that point, after days and days of fruitless clamor, they decided enough was enough, but the cartmen
and rogues, happy to bang and clang for their daily stipends, kept on and on.""Yukie, what's a stipend?" Sunko asks.
"A stipend means pay. Money.""What did they buy with the money they got?""What did they buy ... Ho ho ho, come now Sunko, that's neither here nor there. -- To continue Auntie, on
it went, endless commotion day after day and night after night. At the time, there lived in the town afellow known as Foolish Také. A bonafide dullard, he knew little and was held in little regard. This fellow,
as it's told, finally felt inclined to comment on the commotion. 'All that banging and clanging, day uponday, and you haven't moved even this single, solitary jizō? Futile enough, and pathetic too.'""Wisely spoken for a dullard.""As dullards go, a wise one indeed. The townspeople, hearing Foolish Také's words, paid heed. With little
hope and nothing to lose, they challenged him to come up with something better. Without hesitation, Také
took them on. 'Let's cut out this racket,' he called to the cartmen and rogues, causing them to stand down
for a bit. When all was quiet, he sauntered up to the Jizō with nonchalance.""Yukie, who was Nonchalance? Was it one of Také's friends?" Tonko, just at the crux of the story, intrudes
with a curious question. Yukie and the wife, exchanging glances, both break out laughing.
"No, dear, it wasn't a friend."17

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"Then what was it?""Nonchalance is -- well it's hard to explain.""Nonchalance means 'hard to explain?'""It's not that. Nonchalance is ..."
"Yes?""Say, you're familiar with Tatara Sanpei, are you not?""Sure I am. He brought us that box of yams.""It means like Tatara.""Tatara's nonchalant?""Yes. Definitely. -- At any rate, Foolish Také appeared before the Jizō, hands folded into his breast
pockets. 'Good Jizō, the townspeople wish you moved, so please oblige them and move.' The Jizō
responded without a moment's thought. 'Is that so? They could have said as much.' And with no further
fanfare, the Jizō set to moving."18

ōI am a Cat – Chapter 10a – S seki Project