Light and Darkness

by Sōseki Natsume

  “Fine. That’s clear enough—Is that it, have you said your piece?”

  “Hardly. I’m just getting to the main argument.”

  A little dismayed, Tsuda watched Kobayashi lift a glass of beer to his lips and empty it in a single draft.

  [ 159 ]

  BEFORE HE continued, Kobayashi put down his glass and surveyed the room. The lady at one of the two tables where women were sitting, producing a beautiful handkerchief from her sleeve, was just drying the hand she had removed from a finger bowl after using it to eat a piece of fruit. The other female diner, diagonally opposite him, a young woman in her mid-twenties who had been stealing looks in his direction for a while, was engaged in animated conversation about the theater with her male companion, a coffee cup suspended in her hand as she eyed the smoke trailing upward from his cigarette. As both tables had arrived in advance of Tsuda and Kobayashi, it appeared that they were further along in their meal and would be leaving earlier.

  “Perfect,” Kobayashi exclaimed. “They’re still here.”

  Tsuda was alarmed again. It was predictable that Kobayashi was preparing to say things that would shock them in a voice he intended to be overheard.

  “Behave yourself, will you!”

  “I haven’t said a word.”

  “I’m asking you not to. I can put up with your attacks on me, but please take a deep breath before you start insulting people who have nothing to do with us. In a place like this.”

  “You’re such a timid soul. I guess you’re saying you couldn’t stand it if I carried on here as if it were that neighborhood bar?”

  “Yes, in a way.”

  “‘Yes, in a way’ means you made a mistake when you invited a hoodlum like me to a place like this.”

  “Then do as you like.”

  “You say that, but I bet you’re shaking inside.”

  Tsuda was silent. Kobayashi laughed as though amused.

  “I win. I win. You surrender, don’t you?”

  “If you consider that a victory, then go right ahead and feel victorious.”

  “I shall. But that means you better brace yourself for more and more contempt from me. And your contempt is a fart in the wind as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Feel however you must feel. You’re an obnoxious piece of work.”

  As he spoke, Kobayashi peered at Tsuda’s sullen face as if to look inside it.

  “Don’t you get it, this is a real battle. It doesn’t matter how privileged you are or how many rich friends you have or how loftily you parade yourself around, when you’re defeated in a real battle you’re defeated. I’ve been saying it all along: a man who hasn’t tested himself with his feet in the real world is no better than a rag doll.”

  “Why of course. There’s no one in this world who’s any match for a sly dog or a drunk.”

  Kobayashi must have had something to say to this, but instead of replying at once he circled the room once more with his eyes, lighting on first one and then the other of the women at the other tables.

  “That brings me to my third point. I feel I have to get it out before those women leave. Are you ready for this? It follows what I said before.”

  Tsuda looked away in silence. Kobayashi seemed indifferent.

  “In the third place, or, as I might say, my main argument. A while ago I asked you whether those women over there were geisha and got a scolding for it. I guess you were dressing me down for being a boor who doesn’t know how to behave around the ladies. Fair enough, I am a boor. And a boor doesn’t understand the distinction between a geisha and a lady. Which is why I asked you, what’s the stinking difference between a geisha and a lady.”

  As he spoke, Kobayashi directed his gaze at the women for the third time. As if his glance were a signal, the woman who had been drying her hands with the handkerchief rose from the table. The remaining couple summoned the waiter and paid their bill.

  “So they’re leaving at last. It’s a pity; I was just coming to the interesting part.”

  Kobayashi followed the woman with his eyes as she moved to the entrance.

  “Look at that, the other one’s leaving, too. So it’s just you and me after all.” Kobayashi turned back to Tsuda.

  “Here’s the thing, my man. When I can’t tell the difference between French and English food and boast that shit and miso are the same to me, you’re not interested. You get that dismissive look on your face, as if the problem is simply my sense of taste. But the truth is they’re the same, my underdeveloped palate and confusing geishas and ladies.”

  Tsuda turned his eyes to Kobayashi with a look that might have been saying, “And what of that?”

  “Which means that the conclusion must also come down to the same thing. Just as I can assert that I’m happier than you even as you disdain me for my sense of taste, I have no trouble insisting that my circumstances are freer than yours even as you disdain me for failing to distinguish a lady from a geisha. In other words, the more clearly a man can appreciate that this is a lady and that’s a geisha, the more suffering he’s in for. Think about it. What do you end up with? You can’t stomach this one here or that one there, or maybe you can’t do without this one or that one—you put yourself in a straitjacket.”

  “But what if I like how that feels?”

  “Just as I thought. If it’s food we’re talking about you’re indifferent, but when it comes to women it appears you can’t hold your tongue. And that’s exactly the actual issue I want to bring up.”

  “I’ve had enough.”

  “No, apparently not.”

  Exchanging glances, they smiled awkwardly.

  [ 160 ]

  KOBAYASHI WAS skillfully reeling Tsuda in. Tsuda knew it, but he had his own agenda and allowed it to happen. The time came when they were obliged to enter dangerous territory.

  “For example,” Kobayashi said. “You were obsessed, weren’t you, with that Kiyoko-san? For quite a while she was all you could think of. And you were sure you were the only man in the world as far as she was concerned. So how did that work out?”

  “It didn’t.”

  “That’s all you have to say? Simple as that?”

  “There’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “I wonder. Even if there were, you’re probably too stuck on yourself to make a move. Or maybe you’re already hard at work and just hiding it from me.”

  “Don’t be an imbecile! If you talk that kind of drivel, you’ll create a terrible misunderstanding. Get hold of yourself.”

  “The truth is—”

  Kobayashi interrupted himself with a look on his face that seemed to suggest that Tsuda must know what was coming. Tsuda wanted urgently to hear the rest.

  “The truth is?”

  “The truth is, I told your wife the whole story.”

  Tsuda’s expression changed instantly.

  “What story?”

  Kobayashi was silent a minute, as if he were tasting deeply of his companion’s tone and countenance. When he finally replied, his attitude had changed.

  “Just kidding. Really. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Who’s worried? Why should I care if you tell tales on me about something like that after all this time?”

  “Not worried? Fair enough. Then I might as well tell you. Actually, I did tell her the whole story.”

  “You go to hell!”

  Tsuda had raised his voice inappropriately. The waitress, who had seated herself daintily in a chair, turned her head slightly and glanced in their direction. Kobayashi was quick to make use of this.

  “Lower your voice, you’re startling the ladies. It can be so embarrassing to dine out with a hooligan like you.”

  He flashed a smile in the waitress’s direction. The girl smiled back. Tsuda could hardly be angry all by himself. Kobayashi was quick to take advantage of this as well.

  “How did that end? I never heard details and you didn’t say anything—or maybe you did and I’ve forgotten, it doesn’t matter.
Did she run away from you or was it you who ran?”

  “What does that matter?”

  “It doesn’t to me. But it must matter a lot to you.”

  “Naturally, it does.”

  “There you are. It’s what I’ve been saying all along. You have too much latitude. And that makes you extravagant. The result is, the minute you acquire something you like, you want the next thing. But when something you like gets away, you stamp your feet in chagrin.”

  “When have I ever behaved that way?”

  “Believe me, you have. You’re behaving that way now. It’s the price you pay for your latitude. And it’s what gives me the keenest pleasure. It’s the Karma principle, poverty taking its revenge on affluence.”

  “If you enjoy judging people based on notions you’ve fabricated, go right ahead. There’s no need for me to defend myself.”

  “I’m not fabricating any notions. I’m specifying things that are actually at work in you. If you don’t understand that, maybe you’d like a lesson illustrated with facts?”

  Tsuda neither requested nor declined a lesson and had in the end to become a student.

  “You married O-Nobu-san because you wanted her, right? But I can’t imagine you’ll tell me you’re satisfied with her now.”

  “Nothing in this world is perfect.”

  “But of course. And that gives you the right to look around for a superior choice?”

  “What gives you the right to vilify people? The truth is, you’re the lout you were calling me. Your obscene, cynical observations, the insolence of what you say, your crudeness, you’re nothing but a thug through and through.”

  “And that makes me worthy of your contempt?”

  “You bet it does.”

  “So you see, words alone are useless with you. Unless there’s an actual battle, you’ll never get it. Mark my words. The battle is about to begin. Only then will you finally understand the sense in which you’re no match for me.”

  “I don’t care; it will be my honor to lose to a cunning scoundrel.”

  “You’re so stubborn. It’s not me you’ll be fighting.”

  “Who then?”

  “You’re already fighting inside. And it won’t be long until that battle emerges in the form of actual behavior. Latitude will incite you to a losing battle for nothing at all.”

  Abruptly Tsuda took a wallet from his kimono and thrust at Kobayashi the money he had set aside as a farewell gift in consultation with O-Nobu.

  “You’d better take this now. Talking with you is making me feel unhappy about keeping my promise.”

  Kobayashi fanned the new ten-yen notes folded in two and carefully counted them.

  “There are three tens here.”

  [ 161 ]

  HE CRUMPLED the notes and stuffed them into his jacket pocket. The move was as off hand as his gratitude was perfunctory.

  “Thanks. I’d like to be borrowing this, but I suppose you’re intending it as a gift. Given the contempt in which you hold me, you must have told yourself from the beginning I won’t have the means to pay you back or the desire either.”

  Tsuda replied.

  “Of course I’m giving it to you. I assume you’ll notice the contradiction in accepting it.”

  “What contradiction? I’m not aware of any contradiction. Is accepting money from you a contradiction?”

  “You don’t see that?” Tsuda condescended. “Think about it. Until just now, that money was in my wallet. And in the twinkling of an eye it moved to your suit pocket. If that sounds too much like a novel, let me put it another way: Who transferred the right to that money from me to you so quickly? Answer me that.”

  “You of course. You gave it to me.”

  “Wrong. It wasn’t me!”

  “You’re sounding like a Zen monk. Who was it then?”

  “It wasn’t anyone. It was latitude—that same latitude you’ve been denigrating gave it to you. So accepting it without a word amounts to dipping your head to latitude even as you hack it to pieces. What’s that if not a contradiction?”

  Kobayashi blinked rapidly before he spoke.

  “You may have a point there—it’s funny, though. I don’t feel as though I’m bowing to latitude.”

  “Then give the money back.”

  Tsuda thrust his hand in Kobayashi’s face. The palm appeared to be as smooth as a woman’s.

  “Like hell I will. Latitude isn’t telling me to give it back.”

  Smiling, Tsuda withdrew his hand.

  “I rest my case.”

  “What case? It appears you’re not getting my meaning when I say latitude hasn’t told me to give it back. Poor Little Lord Fauntleroy!”

  Turning aside, Kobayashi glanced toward the entrance as he spoke.

  “He should be here by now.”

  Tsuda, who had been observing him closely, was a little surprised.

  “Who’s coming?”

  “Nobody; someone with even less latitude than I.”

  Kobayashi made a show of tapping the pocket where he had stuffed the money.

  “The latitude that transferred this money from you to me isn’t saying return it to you. It’s commanding me to pass it along to someone even more deficient in latitude. Latitude is like water. It runs downhill, but it doesn’t flow back up.”

  Tsuda understood Kobayashi’s drift as a concept. But he was unable to see how it actually applied. This unsettled him, and he withdrew into rumination. Kobayashi’s subsequent words came marching through the haze like an invading army.

  “I will bow down to latitude. I’ll acknowledge my contradiction. I’ll affirm your illogical assertions. I’ll do anything. I thank you. I’m grateful.”

  Abruptly, large tears began spilling from his eyes. This radical transformation left Tsuda, already surprised, feeling all the more uneasy. Unable to avoid recalling the recent scene at the bar where he had been placed in an awkward situation, he frowned, realizing at the same moment that now was the time to manipulate his companion.

  “Why would I expect gratitude from you? You’re the one who’s forgotten the past. I’m doing now what I’ve always done, in the same spirit, but you stand everything on its head, which just makes associating with you more and more a bother. For example, you go to my house when I’m away and say something to my wife while you’re there—”

  Having said this much, Tsuda tried assessing its effect on his companion without seeming to. But Kobayashi was looking down, and Tsuda was unable to read his mood to see whether it might have changed.

  “Did you have to go out your way to see if you could drive a wedge between your friend and his wife for the fun of it?”

  “I don’t recall saying anything about you.”

  “But just a minute ago—”

  “That was a joke. You were taunting me so I taunted back.”

  “I don’t know who started the taunting, but that hardly matters. I just don’t see why you can’t tell me the truth.”

  “But I have. I’ve said over and over again I don’t recall saying anything about you. Try questioning your wife and you’ll see.”

  “O-Nobu won’t—”

  “What’d she say?”

  “Nothing, that’s the problem. If she’s thinking something without saying it, I can’t defend myself or explain; I’m the only one who’s left in the dark.”

  “I didn’t say anything. The question is what you’ll do now; are you up to behaving like a husband or not?”

  “I don’t—”

  As Tsuda began to speak, footsteps signaled the arrival at the table of a third party.

  [ 162 ]

  TSUDA SAW at once that it was the young man with long hair with whom Kobayashi had been conversing on the street corner, and he was further surprised. But not entirely: it was as if at the same time he had been expecting the youth. The fleeting feeling was a contradiction, a certainty amounting to a conclusion that no one like this would appear, and a presentiment that if anyone were to appear, it wou
ld have to be this young man.

  The face illuminated in the headlight of the car as it turned the corner had struck him as odd. As he shifted his interior gaze from himself to Kobayashi and from Kobayashi to the young man, he had been sensible of the distance separating them in social standing, philosophy, profession, even dress. This required him to observe the young man as though from afar. But as he regarded him, however distantly, a vivid impression had burned into his mind.

  So this is the sort of fellow Kobayashi keeps company with!

  Reflecting at that moment on his own circumstances, which did not require him to associate with such people, and having felt, all in all, fortunate, Tsuda’s attitude toward the newcomer was unambiguous. The look on his face suggested he had been abruptly introduced to a disreputable character.

  Holding his rumpled cap in his hand, the young man took a seat next to Kobayashi. He appeared to be feeling uneasy in Tsuda’s presence. The odd light in his eyes reflected nervously a tangle of hostility and fear and the untempered self-regard of someone unaccustomed to being in company. Tsuda felt increasingly repelled. Kobayashi turned to the young man.

  “Take off your coat.”

  The youth stood up again in silence. Throwing off the long mantle favored by art and music students, he threw it over the back of his chair.

  “This is my friend.”

  Kobayashi introduced the youth to Tsuda, who learned subsequently that his surname was Hara and that he was a painter.

  “What happened? How did it go?”

  This was Kobayashi’s next question. Before the artist could reply he immediately added, “No luck, right? How could it go well with a dullard like that? It would be an insult to you if he appreciated your work. Oh, well, relax and have something to eat.”

  Kobayashi pounded on the table with the handle of his knife.

  “Hey. Let’s get this man something to eat.”