The many ways of counting in Japanese Part I
There is simply no simple 1-2-3 in this language
In many languages the expression “one two three” means something simple and easy. However, it doesn’t exist in Japanese. No shocker as counting in Japanese is no mean feat. Let’s have a look at what makes it a deliciously elaborate palaver.
First, you have two parallel sets of numbers: the native Japanese one and the one originally borrowed from Ancient China. They sound nothing like each other, nor are they interchangeable. The longer Japanese ones are used to count all kinds of inanimate objects, the shorter Chinese ones are abstract mathematical numbers. Note the cutest Japanese word for “nine”. I can smell piña colada from here.
1: hitotsu - ichi
2: futatsu - ni
3: mittsu - san
4: yottsu - shi
5: itsutsu - go
6: muttsu - roku
7: nanatsu - shichi
8: yattsu - hachi
9: kokonotsu - kyū
10: tō - jū
Then there are regular yet rather random crossovers between the two when 4 is yon or 7 is nana. There is literally no way of guessing which one would be used where. For example “four o’clock” is yoji 四時 but “April”, literally “the fourth month” is shigatsu 四月. And let’s not even get started on the rather unpredictable names for the days of the month, where each needs to be memorised individually with the 1st being tsuitachi, the 6th muika, the 10th tōka, and the 20th hatsuka.
Perhaps unsurprisingly at this stage, there is one word for “ten quadrillion”, i.e., 10,000,000,000,000,000: ikkyō (一京).
Further complicating matters is the fact that the Japanese (along with most of Pacific Rim Asian nations) think of big numbers not in terms of thousands but tens of thousands, for which there is a special word man 万. For example, in Japan 10,000 is not “ten thousand” but one man 一万 and 1,000,000 is not “one million” but one hundred man 百万. So what happens when we come up to one whole man of man? There is a special word for that, oku (億), so the Japanese for “one hundred million” is one word ichioku (一億). Similarly, there is one word for one man of those, chō 兆 , so the Japanese has just one word for 1,000,000,000,000, itchō (一兆). Perhaps unsurprisingly at this stage, there is one word for “ten quadrillion”, i.e., 10,000,000,000,000,000: ikkyō (一京). This actually goes on for a while to quite scary and rather impracticable numbers such as isshi (一至), which amounts to 1035494216806390423241907689750528. I will spare you the full list but furnish you with another that is simply indispensable.
What you see above is a basic list of counter words (known in Japanese as 助数詞, josūshi). Those are measure words used with numbers to count things, actions, and events. English has them too: e.g., two loaves of bread, or five heads of cattle, or even 11 grains of salt, if you’re properly into nitpicking. But the Japanese have made them into a form of art, then took it to an extreme, and then jazzed it all up to make it even more interesting. Besides, their usage is compulsory. Nothing and no one can be counted without them.
Overall, there are up to 350 counter words, to count every imaginable object in the observable universe: from pairs of chopsticks (膳 zen) and railway carriages (両 ryō) to samurai swords (振 furi) and calligraphy scrolls (軸 jiku). They can be either bizarrely specific or bafflingly inclusive. For example, 匹 hiki is for small animals (or, very conveniently, for demons and annoying brats) but any beasts larger than a sheep (which somehow includes butterflies) need to be counted with 頭 tō. Similarly, 艘 sō is for small boats but 隻 seki is for large ships and 艦 kan is particularly for warships. Dai 台 is a surprisingly broad one, used for any kind of machinery from typewriters to space rockets, except for, naturally, boats and ships (see above) but also airplanes (it’s 機 ki for those).
Arguably, the crowning glory of Japanese counter words is 発 hatsu, which is used for gunshots, fireworks, orgasms, and (jokingly) finished cans of beer. Apparently, at some point of time it occurred to someone that those events are all very similar.
Quite a few counter words are extremely specialised. For example, there is 畳 jō for measuring the area of a Japanese-style room washitsu. It would be a sacrilege to use it for a Western-style room, in which case square metres are appropriate. Hashira (柱) is for any kind of worshiped deities. Use it to audit pantheons or to count your guardian angels. Shu (首) is for Japanese tanka poems. Haiku poems are counted with ku (句). The distinction is vital and paramount. There is rin (鱗) if you ever need to figure out the number of fish scales you have available. And then there is rō (浪 ) for those special times when you need to count how many years you have been studying to pass university entrance exams after you failed the first time around.
Counters are often categorised on highly spurious grounds reminiscent of the fictitious Ancient Chinese encyclopedia invented by Luis Borges. Thus, squid and glasses of beer share the same counter 杯 (hai). I was informed that this is because squids contain ink so they are, in fact, a sort of liquid receptacle just like a beer glass. A bit far-fetched but somehow convincing. Umbrellas, carrots, bus routes, jeans, tunnels, and teeth share one counter: 本 (hon). And, 'coz why not, so do birds and rabbits: 羽 (ha). Ostensibly, because rabbits’ ears look kinda like bird’s wings (flap flap flap!). Apocryphally, to bypass the Edo Period meat consumption bans and try to pass verboten rabbits for edible birds. Arguably, the crowning glory of Japanese counter words is 発 hatsu, which is used for gunshots, fireworks, orgasms, and (jokingly) finished cans of beer. Apparently, at some point of time it occurred to someone that those events are all very similar. When you think about it, it kind of makes sense, doesn’t it?
When a counter is attached to a number, it can undergo a transformation, which every now and then can be rather random: such as in 三階 (sangai instead of the expected sankai for the 3rd floor) or 十四日(jūyokka instead of the more probable jūyonnichi for the 14th of a month). The one for rabbits and birds (羽 ha) can turn into wa or ba, each usage case needs to be memorised individually. So, as with everything else in Japanese, full mastery of counter words is achieved through years and years of arduous schooling.
And once again, as often happens when studying Japanese, just when you thought you have seen it all, there is more. In the next and, I promise, final installment I will tell you how numbers are assigned to theatre seats using words from an ancient poem and how the names of the days of the Ancient Chinese ten-day week from the 13th century BC are used for vitamins. Because why not? The lengths to which the Japanese have gone to make their language exciting for foreigners to learn are truly endless.
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I laughed out load when read about demons!!
It's totally trooooo!
And you can count annoying brats with the same counter word.
The Japanese for "annoying brat" is "kusogaki", 糞餓鬼, which literally means "shitty starved demon".
Gotta love the language!