I always called that person teacher. So even here, I just write Sensei and don't tell him my real name. This is more because it is more natural for me to do so, rather than because I am afraid of being seen as a stranger to the world. Whenever I recall a memory of that person, I immediately want to say 'Sensei'. I feel the same way when I write. I don't feel like using distant acronyms.
I first became acquainted with my teacher at KAMAKURA. At that time I was still a young calligrapher. I received a postcard from a friend who had gone swimming during the summer holidays, inviting me to come along, so I decided to go, having managed to raise some money. I spent a couple of days trying to find the money. However, within three days of my arrival, the friend who had summoned me suddenly received a telegram from Kunimoto telling him to return home. The telegram said that my mother was ill, but my friend did not believe it. He had long been forced to marry without the advice of his parents in his home country. He was too young to marry, according to modern customs. Besides, he didn't like the man himself. So, when he should have gone home for the summer holidays, he deliberately avoided it and stayed in the vicinity of Tokyo. He showed me the telegram and asked me what to do. I didn't know what to do. But in fact, if his mother was ill, he should have gone home. So he finally decided to leave. I, who had come all this way, was left alone.
I was in a situation where I could stay at KAMAKURAor go home, as there were still many days before school classes started, and I was prepared to stay at my former lodgings for the time being. My friend was the son of a wealthy Chinese family and had no shortage of money, but his school and age meant that his standard of living was not so different from mine. Therefore, being alone, I did not have the trouble of finding a suitable place to stay.
The inn was KAMAKURAbut in a remote direction. You had to go over one long footpath to get to the high-carat things like ice-cream. Even if you went there by car, you had to pay 20 sen. But there were many private villas built here and there. And it was very close to the sea, so it occupied a very convenient position for sea bathing.
I went out to the sea every day. As I walked down to the shore through the old smoky thatched houses, I saw the sand was moving with summering men and women, as if there were so many urbanites living in this area. At times, the sea was as cluttered with black heads as a public bath. Even though I didn't know anyone among them, I enjoyed lying on the sand or bouncing around on my knees against the waves in the midst of such a lively scene.
I actually found him here, amongst the shovels. At that time there were two teahouses on the beach. I had become accustomed to going to one of them on a whim. HASEHENUnlike people who have a large villa in a small town, summer holidaymakers here do not have their own private changing rooms, so they definitely need a communal changing place like this one. They drink tea here, rest here, have their saltwater clothes washed here, cleanse their salty bodies here, and leave their hats and umbrellas here. Even though I didn't have seawater clothes, I was afraid that my belongings might be stolen, so every time I went to the sea, I would take everything to the teahouse and leave it there.
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