Within a month after I entered the school, I made a new discovery as to a schoolboy’s equipments. I had thought that they consisted only of books, copy-books, an abacus, and such things. But these form only a half of them. The other half are hidden to view: they are in the pockets, or in the sleeves, I should have said. During the recess a strong cord will come out and also a top about two and a half inches in diameter, and with an iron ring a quarter of an inch thick. A Japanese top is a mad thing. When it sings out of the hands and hits that of the opponent, sending it off crippled, it makes you feel very happy. Another thing is a sling. It is as old as the time of David, but it was perfectly new to me. When a pebble shoots out and vanishes in the air, you feel as though you were able to hit a kite circling away up in the sky. And another thing! It is a knife, the broad-bladed one. With it they cut a piece one and a half feet long out of a thick branch of a tree and sharpen one end of it. Selecting a piece of soft ground, the boys in turn drive in their own pieces and try to knock over the others. The game depends much on one’s strength and the kind of wood one selects. But there is a pleasure in possessing a cruel branch that will knock off three or four pieces at a blow. Oh, for a knife and a top! I thought. I disclosed the matter to my mother, who thought a top was all right and bought me one. But as for the knife, she gave me a small one, fit only to sharpen a pencil with. I felt ashamed (I blush to confess, though) even to show it to my schoolmates. If I had had money, I would have given my all just for a knife. But money was a mean thing; the possession of it was the root of all evil—so it was thought, and, indeed, I was penniless. But I must have a decent knife—decent among boys. If I could only get one I would give my Confucius for it.
One day I saw my Kichi—we had kept up our meeting ever since. I talked to him about a knife. He did not tell me how I could get one because I talked only about what the possession of a good knife would mean to a boy. It was a rather general remark, but I disliked to go right to the point. It would be too much to presume on his kindness, you know. And then I rather wanted him to offer. He, however, produced his own favorite knife and cut a thick piece of deal right away to show how sharp it was. Well, I thought he had a knife sense, anyway. So I kept talking about it day after day, and each time I talked of it he showed me his, and tried it on a piece of wood.
One day there was a town festival and in the evening I was allowed to go with Kichi to see it. Kichi’s manner that night was very strange; he appeared as if he had a chestful of gold. He asked me in a fatherly manner what I liked, and said he could buy me all the booths if I wished him to. I never felt so happy as then. I thought my patience had conquered him at last. And to make a long story short, I came to own a splendid knife, better than any other boy’s at the school! That night I slept with it under the pillow.
The next morning the first thing I did was to go to thank Kichi.
“Hello, Kichi,” I shouted. “Thank you very much for the knife.”
“Oh, good morning, Bot’chan. Let me see your knife,” he said. “But I am sorry that I played a joke on you last night. It was your mother who paid for it. You must go and thank her for it.”
“Well, never!” I gasped. But being told how she handed him the money when we started, I gave him a slap—a mild one, though—on his face and ran immediately to my mother, thinking that after all she had something more than a mere knife sense.