Kunshi
In my life with the boisterous and free-living students, and after I was married, even in associating with various men of the world, I always kept myself within the prescribed limit of the well-behaved man. Yet I was not “puritan” or moralist—I knew quite well the inside life of the hidden quarters of our society. By simply listening to my friends talking together, I could easily learn about things I had never seen.
For instance, although I do not know how to play the game of go, Japanese chess, yet whenever my friends in the school would begin to play it, I was always sitting near the go-board, criticizing their moves like a seasoned expert—“There! That move of your black was wrong. You see you lost again, and don’t you see your next move? Ah, you are a fine player!”
My remarks flowed on despite my blissful ignorance. This was safe as long as I was on the winning side and finding fault with the loser, which was not difficult to determine from the expressions of the players. But I never let myself get drawn into an actual game. Whenever I was challenged, I would say, “I haven’t any time to waste in a game with you.” My reputation as a go player became greater all the time, but after nearly a year, by some little chance, my “skin of pretence” was once pulled off, and I was left to the mercy of their oaths and execrations.
So in this way I had learned all about the gay quarters, but I myself was of “iron and stone.” In short I was one who “did not turn red by coming in contact with blood.” I am convinced that I was brought up to be like this in my family. In Nakatsu we as a family of five children were reared by our mother alone, inmune from the knowledge of anything that was not reputable, and we had a world of our own. Even when I left home, I carried the self-respect learned there, and it remained with me. I was not restraining myself particularly; I was thinking that my attitude toward life was what it ought to be.
There are people whom we call kunshi, “bigoted saints,” who are good through fear and the stupid inability to act. They, of course, resent the immoral behavior of others who give free play to their desires. These persons complain when no one is present to refute them, but they are too afraid to come near any actual encounter with the less virtuous world. So they go around frowning on life and shunning friendships. On the contrary I never hesitated to talk on any subject with my friends, and often made fun of their follies.
“You are the dullest bunch of fellows I have ever seen,” I would tell them. “You go out to make love to the professional love makers, and come home a failure! I don't go at all, but once I should go there, I could show you I would be a hundred times more of a success than you ever could be. You aren't made to be gallants anyway. This trying to learn the ABC's of gallantry at your age makes me suspect you will never be much of men after all.”
