Kafka on the Shore (35 page)

When he got back to the inn, just before two, he found Nakata still hadn't woken up. Concerned, he felt the old man's forehead, but he didn't seem to have a fever. His breathing was calm and regular, and his cheeks had a healthy glow to them. He seemed perfectly fine. All he was doing was sleeping soundly, without ever even turning over in bed.

"Is he all right, sleeping this much?" the maid said when she looked in on them.

"Maybe he's ill?"

"He's exhausted," Hoshino explained. "Let's just let him sleep as much as he wants."

"Okay, but I've never seen anybody sleep so much before...."

Dinnertime came and the sleep marathon continued. Hoshino went out to a curry restaurant and had an extra-large order of beef curry and a salad. After this he went to the same pachinko place as the night before and again played for an hour. This time, though, his luck changed, and for under ten dollars he won two cartons of Marlboros. It was nine-thirty by the time he got back to the inn with his winnings, and he couldn't believe his eyes—Nakata was still asleep.

Hoshino added up the hours. The old man had been sleeping for over twenty-four hours. Sure, he said he'd sleep a long time, so not to worry, but this was ridiculous!

Hoshino felt uncharacteristically helpless. Suppose the old guy never woke up? What the hell was he supposed to do then?

"Cripes," he said, and shook his head.

But the next morning, when Hoshino woke up at seven, Nakata was already awake, gazing out the window.

"Hey, Gramps, so you finally made it up, huh?" Hoshino said, relieved.

"Yes, Nakata just woke up. I don't know how long I slept, but it must have been a long time. I feel like a new man."

"No kidding it was a long time! You went to sleep at nine p. m. the day before yesterday, so you've been asleep something like thirty-four hours. You're a regular Snow White."

"Nakata's kind of hungry."

"I bet you are. You haven't had a bite in two days."

The two of them went downstairs to the dining room and had breakfast. Nakata amazed the maid at how much rice he packed away.

"You're as big an eater as you are a sleeper!" she exclaimed. "It's like two days' worth of meals in one sitting!"

"Yes, I have to eat a lot now."

"You're a really healthy person, aren't you?"

"Yes, Nakata is. I can't read, but I've never had a single cavity and don't need glasses. I never have to go to the doctor, either. My shoulders never get stiff, and I take a good dump every morning."

"Isn't that something," the maid said, impressed. "By the way, what's on your schedule for today?"

"We're headed west," Nakata declared.

"West," she mused. "That must mean you're going toward Takamatsu."

"I'm not so bright and don't know geography."

"Anyway, Gramps, why don't we go over to Takamatsu?" Hoshino chimed in.

"We can figure out what's next after we get there."

"All right. Let's go to Takamatsu, then. We'll figure out what's next after we get there."

"Sort of a unique style of traveling, I must say," the maid commented.

"You got that right," Hoshino said.

Back in their room, Nakata went to the toilet, while Hoshino, still in his yukata robe, lay back on the tatami and watched the news on TV. Not much was happening.

Police still didn't have any leads in the murder of a famous sculptor in Nakano—no clues, no witnesses. The police were searching for the man's fifteen-year-old son, who'd disappeared shortly before the murder.

Man alive, Hoshino thought, a fifteen-year-old kid. Why is it that these days it's always fifteen-year-olds who're involved in all these violent incidents? Of course when he was fifteen himself, he stole a motorcycle from a parking lot and went for a joyride—without, mind you, a license—so he had no right to complain. Not that you could compare borrowing a motorcycle and slicing your dad into sashimi. It was only luck, maybe, that had kept him from stabbing his own father, because he'd certainly taken his share of beatings.

The news was just winding up when Nakata emerged from the bathroom. "Mr. Hoshino, may I ask you something?"

"What's up?"

"Does your back hurt at all?"

"Yeah, it's an occupational hazard, I guess. Every trucker I know has back problems, just like pitchers all have sore shoulders. Why do you ask?"

"When I saw your back I thought maybe you had that problem."

"Huh..."

"Do you mind if Nakata touches your back?"

"Be my guest."

Hoshino lay facedown and Nakata straddled him. He put his hands just above the backbone and held them there. All the while Hoshino was watching some afternoon talk show featuring all the latest celebrity gossip. A famous actress had just gotten engaged to a not-so-famous young novelist. Hoshino didn't care, but there wasn't anything else on.

Apparently the actress's income was ten times that of the novelist, who wasn't even particularly handsome or very intelligent looking.

Hoshino found the whole thing suspect. "That marriage won't work out, I can tell you that. There's gotta be some kind of misunderstanding going on here."

"Mr. Hoshino, your bones are out of line a bit."

"Not surprising, what with the out-of-line kind of life I've led," Hoshino replied, and yawned.

"It's going to cause all sorts of problems if you don't do something about it."

"You think?"

"You'll get headaches, you won't be able to take a good dump. And then your back will go out on you."

"That can't be good."

"This will hurt a little. Do you mind?"

"No, go right ahead."

"Honestly speaking, it's going to hurt a lot."

"Look, Gramps, I've been punched out my whole life—at home, at school, in the SDF—but I survived. Not to brag or anything, but the days I haven't been hit I could count on both hands. So I'm not worried that something might hurt a little. Hot or tickly, sweet or spicy—bring it on."

Nakata squinted, concentrating, carefully making sure he had his thumbs just where he wanted them. Once they were positioned just right, he ever so slowly increased the pressure, gauging Hoshino's reaction. He breathed in deeply, then let out a clipped cry like some winter bird's squawk, and pressed down with all his might on the area between muscle and backbone. The pain Hoshino felt at that instant was awful, unreasonably so. A huge flash of light went off in his brain and everything went white.

He stopped breathing. It felt like he'd been thrown from the top of a tall tower into the depths of hell. He couldn't even manage a scream, so hideous was the pain. All thoughts had burned up and shot away. It was like his body had been shattered into pieces. Even death couldn't be this awful, he felt. He tried to open his eyes but couldn't. He just lay there, helpless, facedown on the tatami, drooling, tears streaming down his face. He must have endured this for some thirty seconds or so.

Finally he was able to breathe again, and he staggered as he sat up. The tatami wavered before him like the sea in a storm.

"I'm sure it was painful."

Hoshino shook his head a few times, as if checking to see that he was still alive.

"Pain doesn't begin to describe it. Imagine getting skinned alive, skewered, ground down, then run over by an angry herd of bulls. What the hell did you do to me?"

"I put your bones back in the right position. You should be fine for the time being. Your back won't ache. And I guarantee you'll take good dumps."

As predicted, when the pain receded, like the tide going out, his back did feel better. The usual heavy, sluggish feeling had vanished. The area around his temples felt much better, and he could breathe more easily. And sure enough, he felt like going to the john.

"Yeah, I guess certain parts do feel better."

"The problem was all in the spine," Nakata said.

"But damn did that hurt," Hoshino said, and sighed.

The two of them took the JR express train from Tokushima Station bound for Takamatsu. Hoshino paid for everything, the inn and the train fare. Nakata insisted on paying his share, but Hoshino wouldn't hear of it.

"I'll pay now, and we can settle up later. I don't like it when men go all to pieces over money, okay?"

"All right. Nakata doesn't understand money very well, so I'll do as you say," Nakata said.

"I gotta tell you, though, I feel great, thanks to that shiatsu you did on me. So at least let me pay you back for it, okay? I haven't felt this good in I don't know how long. I feel like a new man."

"That's wonderful. Nakata doesn't know what shiatsu means, but I do know how important the bones are."

"I'm not sure what you call it either—shiatsu, bone-setting, chiropractic—but whatever it is, you've really got a talent for it. You could make a lot of money doing this. You could make a bundle just doing all my trucker buddies."

"As soon as I saw your back I could tell the bones were out of line. When I see something out of line I like to set it right. I made furniture for a long time and whenever I saw something crooked I just had to straighten it out. That's just how Nakata is. But this was the first time I straightened out bones."

"I guess you're a natural," Hoshino said, impressed.

"Nakata used to be able to speak with cats."

"No kidding?"

"But not so long ago I couldn't talk with them anymore. It must be Johnnie Walker's fault."

"I see."

"I'm stupid, so I don't understand difficult things. And there have been so many difficult things happening lately. Fish and leeches falling from the sky, for instance."

"Really?"

"But I'm glad I could make your back better. If you feel good, then Nakata feels good."

"I'm really happy, too," Hoshino said.

"That's good."

"Now that you mention those leeches..."

"Yes, Nakata remembers that very well."

"Did you have something to do with that?"

Nakata thought about it for a while, a rare occurrence. "I don't really know myself. All I know is when I opened my umbrella it started to rain leeches."

"What'ya know...."

"The worst thing of all is killing other people," Nakata said, and gave a decisive nod.

"Absolutely. Killing is bad, for sure."

"That's right," Nakata said again, nodding forcefully.

The two of them got out at Takamatsu Station, then slipped inside a noodle place near the station and had udon for lunch. Outside the restaurant window there were several large cranes on the docks, covered with seagulls.

Nakata methodically enjoyed each and every noodle. "This udon is delicious," he said.

"Glad you like it," Hoshino said. "So, what do you think? Is this spot okay?"

"Yes, Nakata thinks it will do."

"So we got the right spot picked out. Now what are you going to do?"

"I've got to find the entrance stone."

"Entrance stone?"

"That's right."

"Hmm," Hoshino said. "I bet there's a long story behind that."

Nakata tilted his bowl and drained the last drop of soup. "Yes, it is a long story. But it's so long I don't understand it myself. Once we get there, though, Nakata thinks we'll understand."

"As usual, you gotta be there to get it?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Until we go there I won't understand it."

"Yes. Until we go there I won't understand it either."

"Enough already. I don't like long stories. Anyway, I guess we need to find this entrance stone thing."

"That is correct," Nakata said.

"So where is it?"

"Nakata has no idea."

"Like I had to ask," Hoshino said, shaking his head.

I fall asleep for a short time, wake up, fall asleep again, wake up, over and over. I don't want to miss the moment she appears. But I do miss it—I look up and she's already seated at the desk, just like last night. The clock next to my bed shows a little past three.

I'm positive I closed the curtains before going to bed, but again they're wide open. But there's no moon tonight—that's the only difference. There's a heavy cloud cover, and it might be drizzling outside. The room's much darker than last night, with only distant lamps in the garden casting a faint light between the trees. It takes a while for my eyes to adjust.

The girl is seated at the desk, head in her hands, gazing at the painting. She's wearing the same clothes as last night. Even if I squint and look hard, this time it's too dark to make out her face. Strangely enough, though, her body and silhouette stand out, floating there clearly in the darkness. The girl is Miss Saeki when she was young—I have absolutely no doubt about it.

She looks deep in thought. Or in the midst of a long, deep dream. Check that—maybe she herself is Miss Saeki's long, deep dream. At any rate, I try to breathe very quietly so as not to disturb the balance of this scene before me. I don't move an inch, just glance occasionally at the clock to check the time. Time passes slowly, regularly.

Out of the blue my heart starts beating hard, a dry sound like somebody's knocking at the door. The sound echoes through the silent, dead-of-night room, and startles me so much that I nearly leap right out of bed.

The girl's black silhouette moves ever so slightly. She looks up and listens in the dark. She's heard it—the sound of my heart. She tilts her head just a fraction, for all the world like an animal in the woods focusing on an unexpected, unknown sound. Then she turns to face me in bed. But I don't register in her eyes, I can tell. I'm not in her dream.

She and I are in two separate worlds, divided by an invisible boundary.

Just as quickly as it came on, my pounding heart settles back down to normal.

And so does my breathing. I'm back to being invisible, and she's no longer listening. Her gaze falls back on Kafka on the Shore. Head in hands like before, her heart is drawn once more toward the boy in that summer scene.

She's there for about twenty minutes, then vanishes. Just like last night, she stands up, barefoot, noiselessly glides toward the door, and, without opening it, disappears outside. I sit still for a while, then finally get up. Keeping the light off, I go over in the darkness and sit down on the seat she just occupied. I rest both hands on the desk and absorb the afterglow of her presence. I close my eyes, scooping up her shivering heart, letting it seep inside mine. I keep my eyes closed.