Morimoto hurried to interrupt, holding out his right hand in front of his face and waving it back and forth as a drunken man might. "That's about the worst idea that can exist," he said. "Young men — though I may not be much older than you — anyway, young men want to do something strange and new. But when you've done all those things which are supposed to be strange and new and when you look back on them, you think, 'How meaningless all that was! How much better it would have been if I hadn't done them, if it's only come to this.' You're a young man with the world before you. Just be what you are and you'll gain as much prosperity as you wish. To risk your life on such things as speculation or adventure at this important time, well, it deserves the name of disloyalty to your loving parents. But, I've been thinking for some time about asking you but couldn't because I was too busy — have you found a good job?"
Honest by nature, Keitaro told the truth without disguising his dejection, adding that he was resting a few days because for the time being he had little prospect of success.
"Really?" exclaimed Morimoto with a surprised look. "I didn't know there was even the slightest difficulty for university graduates in finding jobs. A very bad time indeed. I guess it must be, seeing that we're well into the forties of Meiji." He spoke with his head inclined, as though he were ruminating on the truth behind his own reasoning.
The man's attitude did not seem that ridiculous to Keitaro, but caused him to wonder whether his friend had deliberately chosen his words with an awareness of their philosophical implications or whether he was unable to express himself in words other than these because of ignorance.
Suddenly Morimoto, holding his head upright, continued, "Well, if you like, how about a railway job? If you have no objection, should I talk to someone?"
Romantic as he was, Keitaro could not imagine that a good position could be obtained through the influence of this man. On the other hand, Keitaro was not that sophisticated to feel that a kind-hearted suggestion dropped so casually was made merely to poke fun at him. He did not know what answer to give, so he merely smiled and called the maid to tell her to bring in Morimoto's lunch together with his own and some sake too.
At the start Morimoto said he had been abstaining from drink recently because of his health. Nevertheless, he emptied his sake cup as soon as Keitaro filled it. And when he finally said, "Let this be the last," he took up the sake container and helped himself. He was usually a quiet man with an easy, careless air about him. But as he drank one cup after another, his quietness took on an ardor, and his carelessness seemed to swell out larger and larger.
"Now I'm equal to anything," he began bragging. "I wouldn't be the least bit worried if they fired me tomorrow." When he noticed Keitaro, who was a poor drinker, keeping him company by taking a sip every now and then as if he only just remembered the cup before him, Morimoto went on, "You really can't drink, can you, Tagawa-san? Strange, you don't like sake, and you love adventure. Yet all adventure begins with drink and ends with a woman."
A few minutes before, he had been disparaging his past life as worthless. But now elated with drink, he changed radically and began talking big, a halo, as it were, reflecting back on himself. And most of his bragging was about his failures.
"Why, my friend," he dared to say as if in defiance of Keitaro, "let me tell you — you're fresh from school and know nothing of the world yet. Let anyone display his M.A. or Ph.D. as much as he wants. I wouldn't be cowed in the least. I know better — I'm all practice and experience." He spoke in a challenging and rude way, as though he had completely forgotten the deep respect he had paid a moment earlier to education. But suddenly with a sigh as loud as a belch, he began to complain about his ignorance.
"In a word, I've gotten along in this world like an ape. I flatter myself that I know ten times as much of the world as you do, yet I'm still bound to earthly passions. That's because of my ignorance, my total lack of education. Though you know, of course, an educated man wouldn't be allowed the kind of varied life I've had."
Since Keitaro had for a while been looking upon Morimoto as if he were a pitiable pioneer, he had been listening to him with considerable attention. But whether or not it was the effect of the sake Keitaro had treated him to, Morimoto's talk, to his listener's regret, tended toward bombast and complaint rather than to those characteristic stories of his which usually excited in Keitaro a pure interest in listening. Keitaro eventually brought the drinking to an end, but Morimoto's talk still remained ungratifying. So Keitaro made some fresh tea and, offering the other a cup, said, "I always find stories of your experience quite interesting. Not only that, but they're profitable to someone as inexperienced as I am. So I'm grateful to you. But of all the things you've done, what do you think was the most exciting?"
Morimoto, remaining silent, blew on the hot tea, his bloodshot eyes blinking a few times. "Well," he said at last after he emptied the deep cup, "looking back on those things I did, all of them seem both interesting and worthless at the same time, so I can't tell which is which. Now, when you say exciting, do you mean something with a woman in it?"
"Not necessarily, but I have no objection to a woman's having something to do with it."
"Now I see that you prefer such a story — but to be serious, Tagawa-san, whether exciting or not, I once had a life that seemed to me more carefree than any I know of in the world. Shall I tell you something to gossip about over tea?"
Keitaro's response was immediate.
"Then let me go to the toilet first," Morimoto said rising, "but I warn you — there's no woman involved. In fact, there are few human beings."
With these words behind him, Morimoto left the room. Keitaro, his curiosity aroused, waited for him to return.
Five minutes passed while he waited and then ten, but the adventurer failed to reappear. Getting impatient, Keitaro at last went down to the toilet, but Morimoto wasn't there. Just to make sure, he went upstairs again to try Morimoto's room. The shoji was open a few inches, and Morimoto was lying in the middle of the room, his head resting on one bent arm, his back toward the entrance. Keitaro called out two or three times, but the other gave no sign of moving. Good-natured as Keitaro was, he was annoyed, so entering without permission, he grabbed Morimoto by the neck and shook him vigorously. Morimoto half jumped to his feet with a cry, as though he had unexpectedly been stung by a wasp. But no sooner did he look back at Keitaro's face than he lapsed again into dreamy eyes, saying, "Is it you? Perhaps I drank too much — I felt a little sick. So I came back to rest a few minutes and dozed off."
Since the excuse had no mockery in it, Keitaro could no longer be angry. But he realized that the story he was so eager to hear was as much as brought to a halt, so he decided to return to his room alone. Morimoto, however, came after him saying, "Sorry. Thanks for coming in."
Back in Keitaro's room, Morimoto sat up straight with knees folded squarely on the same cushion he had been sitting on before. "Now then," he began, "shall I start my story of the world's most unique, carefree life?"
The story he termed the most carefree life involved an experience that he had had more than a dozen years ago while he was traveling through the interior of Hokkaido as a survey engineer. Night after night his party pitched its tent in places devoid of human habitation. As soon as work at a particular region was finished, the tent was carried to the next site. As Morimoto had said earlier, it was only natural that no women appeared in the story.