Lunchtime had come and gone before Sonochihama came to his senses. He had spent the first few hours of the day sitting on the front veranda of his Mishima home. The neighborhood street was separated from his yard by a small stream, but it was really just a ditch mirrored on the other side that filled with water when it rained. According to his neighbors the stream was one of hundreds of overflows from a lake in the hills behind Mishima. Sonochihama believed it, not because he had ever seen the lake—it still resided in myth—but rather because during the summer there would even be small fish running down stream to wherever the water took them. 

He had awoken earlier in the morning and thought about writing his daily journal entry on the veranda overlooking that yard, but when he arrived the cold air worked on his motivation. It was a good morning, he thought, so why waste it with busywork? Three boys wearing middle school uniforms had happened to stop in front of his house and were crouched down by the water. Sonochihama set his pen down to observe them in case of mischief, as young boys are known for. After a few minutes one boy, who was short with large dimples, thrust his hands out of sight into the stream. He struggled before finally raising his hands upwards into the air in a big splash. Laughing, he presented a tiny eel to his friends. Sonochihama was frankly amazed that the boy had managed to capture it. As the boys laughed and praised their friend, Sonochihama called out to them. 

“Quite the fine catch there young man!” He laughed. 

The boys started, apparently having not noticed the man whose house they had loitered in front of. After acknowledging that he was not a threat the short boy lifted the eel towards Sonochihama and responded with a nearly inhuman smile. 

“Kill!” He shouted. Sonochihama was shocked by the declaration. 

What a frightening child, he thought. 

The boys then ran off down the street.

Sonochihama remained in that position, glaring at the empty space where the boys had been while sipping on his morning tea. He had left his watch in his office, so it was actually the scheduled arrival of his friend a few hours later that notified him of just how much time had passed. 

The man emerged from the same direction as the boys had fled. He appeared in a plain green jinbei that was too large on his small frame. More perplexing than his choice of dress was that he still wore his western styled leather shoes.  As he made his way up the walkway towards the house, Sonochihama had the urge to turn him away for such a funny appearance. However, the weather was inexplicably nice that day, despite the slight chill, so instead he turned to his journal and began to write. 

“It is the sixth day of the fifth month of this ninth year of the Showa. Three boys caught an eel in the stream and startled me.” 

Gendo sat on the edge of the veranda and kicked off his shoes, crossing his legs beside Sonochihama as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and held the pack towards Sonochihama, who politely declined. 

“Do you remember that old man who used to deliver newspapers?” Sonochihama asked. 

“Yeah, a friend of mine used to call him ‘Sensei’. I guess he used to be a teacher.” 

“Do you know what grade?”

Gendo thought for a moment while he puffed on his cigarette. 

“No, why do you ask?”

“There was that guy, I think he was a university student, who used to hang around this Sensei of yours. I saw him at the market the other day”

Gendo stared off in the same direction as Sonochihama. 

“Anyway, how’s your brother? I hear he’s graduating high school soon.” 

“That one? He’s as pessimistic as ever, honestly, and all he does is complain about how things were better when he was a kid. It’s a shame, he used to be such a nice young boy, but all the letters I get from him are just musings on the times. What do you know of the times? I always ask him, and he just meanders and avoids the question. This last fare with the House in April treated the poor lad terribly...” Sonochihama groaned.

“I see, well, what can you do? All young men are predisposed to philosophy. Like that student you were asking about. I remember him, though I only spoke to him once, care to listen?” 

Sonochihama stood with his cup and went into the house. After a few minutes he reappeared with a tray that held a small pot and two cups. He set it down and poured some tea into the new cup before handing it to Gendo. Finally he poured some for himself and gestured with an open palm for Gendo to recount his story. The weather made for a good excuse to waste time talking to friends. Sonochihama’s journal sat collecting dust at his side while Gendo spoke. 

“I went to visit Sensei at his home further in the city. He lived in an apartment next door to the printing shop that handled the local newspaper, and whenever there were mistakes in printing he would collect up the rejects and hand them out wherever he happened to be. Most people never knew, but since I had the opportunity to have spoken with him a few times I ended up witnessing such behavior. I supposed he was a kind man, giving out free papers, but he treated it more like a chore. Maybe it was modesty, but I never pushed the matter.

“I had cause to meet with him because I was handling a client in the district around that time. This was an unknown area for me, so Sensei was the only person I knew that lived close by. So, before I would find my way to the train station, I would normally stop in with Sensei and make light conversation. He was an old man with no living relatives except for an estranged son that lived in Nara, so he begrudgingly accepted my company. 

“One particularly unassuming day last April I was later than usual due to spotty rain. I had not brought an umbrella, so I had to take cover in a handful of stores on the way. When I finally got to Sensei’s home I was greeted by the young man. I had seen him hanging around the bookstores and such, just like you Ryuuta, but it was the first time I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance. He introduced himself as Sunokaze, though I forget his given name, as I did not refer to him by it even once. He was from the country, somewhere between Fuji and Nagano, a small village in the mountains. He was, in fact, a student at the National University. Evidently he had met Sensei one day while the two happened to bump into each other at a bookstore in Numazu. The student was on vacation, but did not wish to go back to his home in the country, so he settled in Numazu. However, on meeting Sensei, the guy became very infatuated and insisted on regularly visiting the apartment here in Mishima. As I understood it his board was near the coast, near enough that he always smelled of fish, so I was surprised to find he rode his bike to Sensei’s three times a week. Of course, we all saw him following Sensei around on his deliveries, but the nature of their relationship was a mystery to most, including myself, until that moment. Still, I treated him nicely and sat for tea as Sensei began to speak to his eager pupil.”

“There was that Confucian scribe you know, or maybe it was Confucius himself, or maybe it was a priest?” Sensei mused with his arms crossed. 

“Confucius is it? What’s this now Sensei? You got a bug for philosophy all of a sudden?” 

“Sensei is very knowledgeable of such things Mr Gendo, please listen.” The student chided him. Gendo admitted to having had the urge to thump him for that, but he minded his place and kept listening. 

“I cannot remember the exact words, but the essential sentiment was; Observing the hillside, I admire the autumn leaves, and to the green ones I sigh. It must have been a very wise man in the early days of the reign of the Emperor Shijo, perhaps as a way to illustrate to the boy that he should listen to his father’s advice, and be taught by him. I imagine his father paid for the poem to be produced for this purpose.” Sensei spoke while sipping at his tea.

“I agree, Sensei, there is a great problem in this country right now because the young are not abiding the wisdom and advice of their elders. Just look at this recent struggle in the capital, with those socialists who tried to take over the House earlier this month! A group of ignorant upstarts I am sure.” Sunokaze had leaned forward to preach. Gendo read the news concerning this so-called take over, but he recalled that only six of four hundred and sixty-six seats were successfully claimed by the communists. A radical opinion shared by the over-passionate and the zealous, but he held his tongue to spare himself vilification in the company he was present. 

“Yes, indeed.” Sensei said. 

Gendo could tell that Sensei had not read the paper he delivered, or did not care enough to remember contemporary politics. Still, the feint pleased Sunokaze, who obediently filled his master's cup yet again. He was, at the least, a good waiter. 

“Well, that is still not to say that the old are all universally wise. My uncle, for example, used to brag about how he taught young boys in Yokohama how to speak English. This was when I was a boy, so around twenty years ago now, when it was not so common for teenagers and college boys to be interested in foreign studies as much. At the time, you know, there was a rebound from the Enlightenment, General Nogi had just committed suicide. Well, my uncle was proud of his knowledge, and eventually a professor in European Literature at the National University heard about it. Nothing special, mind, my uncle was nobody special and the professor had better things to admire. It was more of a passing interest in a country bumpkin somehow knowing English as well as my uncle claimed to. You can imagine then how we all laughed when the professor was utterly appalled at the neighborhood kids' expressions. Apparently all of their pronunciations were wrong and stunted beyond belief. So just because a man is old, that does not exclude him from being a fool.” Gendo raised his cup to Sensei who eyed him angrily but laughed along. Probably he was upset that Gendo had challenged him in front of his toy. 

“Yes, but that professor of yours, was he not advanced in years?” Sensei asked. 

“He was around middle age I think. Though, if that is old enough to be considered wise, then I must be a very intelligent man myself, wouldn’t you agree Sunokaze?” 

Sunokaze, who had diminished in stature from the passion of his hateful rant, raised a meager brow to the comment. He did not answer right away, instead taking time to sip his tea with closed eyes as if he were considering the validity of Gendo's statement. In reality, Gendo imagined the boy was just trying to come up with something cool to say in front of his entrenched teacher. 

“I was like him when I was younger, so I recognized the desire to meet expectations in a debate such as that. It humored me and served to lighten my mood towards him. When he was finished with his tea, he drank from an empty cup for about three heartbeats and set it on the tray before him.” Gendo puffed his cigarette to its root and flicked it into the yard as he pulled out another. 

“I find there is wisdom in what you say Mr Gendo.” Sunokaze meekly replied. 

“Well! So it was!” Gendo replied, laughing. “You’ve a good student here Sensei, he really listens when the men are talking, doesn’t he?” In reality, whether the professor met the duo’s strange classification or not was totally irrelevant to the initial point Gendo had made concerning his uncle, but he was fine with letting the topic die as quickly as possible. 

“I was never one for extended debates against brick walls.” 

“Putting that aside,” Sensei said, “I tried that once, you know? Teaching schoolboys light English that is.” 

“Is that so? Was your work ever questioned?” Gendo asked. 

“No, but I taught many boys near that one man's house, that writer you are friends with. They wanted to know mostly curses and words of war, you know, but they were quite astute young pupils. Their parents were very proud at the time.” 

“Have you ever spoken to Sensei?” Gendo asked Sonochihama while lighting another cigarette. The first had found itself discarded onto the serving tray that their cups were sitting in, and Sonochihama was not entirely happy with its presence. 

“No, I can’t say I have had the opportunity.”

“Well, then I guess it’s pointless going on anymore. The point I was trying to reach was actually in reference to his English lessons. I figured out he meant you and so whenever I visit you I keep my ears open for any boys speaking it. I guess I should have asked, but have you?” Sonochihama was immediately reminded of the startling exclamation from the middle school boy earlier that day. 

“Yes actually, a boy caught an eel in the stream and shouted kill. It surprised me.” 

Gendo burst into laughter. 

“I suspected as much.” He choked on the words while laughing. 

“Why is that so funny?” Sonochihama eyed him strangely. 

“Well, when Sensei said he could speak English I just had to test him on it, you know, because he couldn’t even remember a tanka properly, which, by the way, he must have read from a magazine because my niece said she knew about the same poem too. Anyway, the old man surprised me yet again by pointing to the heel of his foot and saying, with a straight face; hill. Somewhere along the line he must have gotten the words mixed up, so I’ve been trying to find his students in case their practice is equally poor.” His applause calmed as he went back to his tea, but the smile remained. 

“I still don’t understand.” Sonochihama admitted. 

“That boy who caught the eel, though I am sure he is a smart and well behaved child, was taught the wrong word, or maybe he was taught a wrong word and got it mixed up with another, I honestly have no idea. But in English, heel and eel both sound the same, and since Sensei for some reason mistook the pronunciation of heel for hill, it’s not at all surprising, my good Sonochihama, that a boy could mix up eel and kill. You probably would have made the assumption of the misnomer if he hadn’t slipped in the extra sound at the beginning of the word, that was probably his own confusion. I imagine he was very proud of his catch and wanted to show it off.” 

“That is a disturbing series of events you’ve discovered.” 

Gendo looked at his watch and sighed. He had another meeting to attend, and bid his farewells to Sonochihama as he put on his shoes and stretched painfully. 

“Keep up the good work Sonochihama, and don’t slack off just because of good weather. I’ll be back in two days, same time.” 

“Until next time, Gendo.” Sonochihama responded, relieved to be able to breathe clean air not tainted by cigarette smoke. Gendo nodded and walked toward the street. 

When Gendo rounded the corner he had come from, disappearing until the next time he would make himself a burden on his clients company, Sonochihama grabbed his notebook. However, it took about a week, and a correspondence with his passionate younger brother, before he was able to fill in a satisfactory entry. 

“I wrote to my brother regarding the matter of the eel, because I know he had been studying English. I asked why heel and eel are such similar words, mostly to engage him in a way to not spark an argument. He said that Americans are known to make shoes out of snake skins, but since the progenitors of the language, the British, were not as burdened by snakes, they likely used what they had on hand as a nation that dominated the sea’s. At some point referring to the back of the foot in relation to the most common type of animal used to clothe it probably stuck. I am not satisfied with that answer, but it is not outrageous compared to many other English origins I am familiar with. At the end of the day, I have not been able to catch anything in the stream all week, not even a frog. How did that boy catch such a slippery game as an eel?” 

He shut the journal and watched his garden. Off, beyond the tops of the neighboring buildings, he imagined Fuji was watching over the city. It was, of course, but from the northwest, while he was actually facing south. His imagination lacked direction. Still, the next time Gendo visited Sonochihama resolved to share his brother's humorous take on the etymology of such a  word. Then, if the weather was good for wasting time, they would chat peacefully for several hours.