Kokoro

“I always called him Sensei, and so I shall do in these pages, rather than reveal his name.”

The narrator’s opening line establishes his respect for his friend. Rather than identify his friend by name, he chooses to refer to him by the title Sensei. Not only does the term Sensei connote respect, but the commitment to preserving the friend’s anonymity in perpetuity demonstrates that the narrator is and will always be respectful of Sensei, to the point that nothing can alter the respect he has for his friend.

“I couldn’t really see the distinction between visiting someone’s grave and taking a walk.”

The difference between the narrator’s youthful naivety and Sensei’s solemn, aged cynicism is clear. The narrator does not yet understand the ritual and the importance of a visit to a grave; he does not yet comprehend the emotional ramifications of an act beyond the mere action itself. For all his university education, the narrator is woefully uneducated in terms of emotion and experience.

“A man who knows the satisfactions of love would speak of them more warmly. But, you know… love is also a sin.”

Sensei’s words have the power to shock the narrator, even if the narrator does not yet fully comprehend what he is being told. The comparison between love and sin seems significant to the narrator, even if he struggles to move beyond the traditional understanding of such abstract concepts. Sensei’s wisdom is portrayed through the narrator’s lack of understanding.