CHAPTER 28

“It’s none of my business, of course, but in my opinion, if there’s anything to inherit you should make sure the matter’s completely attended to before it’s too late. Why not arrange things with your father now, while he’s still well? When the worst happens, you know, it’s inheritance that causes the biggest problems.”

“Yes.”

I paid no particular attention to his words. I believed that the others in our family, my parents included, were as little concerned about this issue as I was. Moreover, Sensei’s uncharacteristic pragmatism somewhat startled me. My natural respect for an elder, however, made me hold my tongue.

“Please forgive me if my anticipating your father’s death like this has offended you. But it’s in the nature of things for people to die, you know. There’s no knowing when even the healthiest of us will die.” Sensei’s tone held an unusual bitterness.

“It doesn’t upset me in the slightest,” I assured him.

“How many brothers and sisters did you say you had?” he asked.

He then inquired about the number of people in the family, what relatives I had, and details of my aunts and uncles. “Are they all good people?”

“I don’t think there’s anyone you’d call bad. They’re country people, for the most part.”

“Why shouldn’t country people be bad?”

This interrogation was becoming disconcerting. But Sensei did not even give me time to consider my answer.

“Country people are actually worse, if anything, than city folk,” he went on. “Another thing. You said just now that you didn’t think there was anyone among your relatives you’d call bad. But do you imagine there’s a certain type of person in the world who conforms to the idea of a ‘bad person’? You’ll never find someone who fits that mold neatly, you know. On the whole, all people are good, or at least they’re normal. The frightening thing is that they can suddenly turn bad when it comes to the crunch. That’s why you have to be careful.”

Sensei was in full flow. I was about to interrupt him when a dog suddenly barked behind us. We both turned in surprise.

Our bench stood at the front corner of a bed of cedar seedlings; to one side of it, a wide stand of thick dwarf bamboo stretched back, hiding the ground. In its midst we could make out the back and furiously barking head of a dog.

As we stared, a child of about ten came running over and set about scolding the animal. He then came over to where we sat and bowed to Sensei, without removing his black school cap.

“There was no one in the house when you came in, sir?” he asked.

“No one.”

“But my mom and sister were in the kitchen.”

“Oh, were they? I see.”

“Yeah. You should’ve said hello and come on in, sir.”

Sensei smiled wryly. He took out his purse and put a five-sen coin into the lad’s hand. “Tell your mother, please, that we’d like to take a rest here for a little.”

The boy nodded, his eyes twinkling with a knowing grin. “I’m leading the spy patrol in our game, see,” he explained, and ran off down the hill through the azaleas.

The dog rushed after him, tail aloft. And sure enough, a couple more children of about the same age soon came running past in the same direction as our spy patroller.