Haruki Murakami - Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage

At the end of May Tsukuru took a long weekend and returned to his home in Nagoya for three days. His family was holding a Buddhist memorial service for his father, so it was a particularly good time for him to go back.

Since his father’s death, his oldest sister and her husband had been living with Tsukuru’s mother in her spacious house, but Tsukuru’s old room was as vacant as he had left it, so he stayed there. His bed, desk, and bookshelf were unchanged from his high school days, the bookshelf lined with old books, the drawers full of pens and notebooks he’d used as a boy.

The memorial service took place on his first day back. It was held at a temple and followed by a meal with relatives, which gave him sufficient time to catch up with his family. The next day he was totally free. Tsukuru decided to go see Ao first. It was a Sunday, when most businesses were usually closed, but not a new-car dealership. Tsukuru had decided that—no matter which of his friends he saw—he would casually show up without an appointment. He wanted to get an honest response when they saw him again, without giving them a chance to mentally prepare themselves for his visit. If he wasn’t able to meet with them when he showed up, or if they refused to see him, he’d just have to live with it. If it came to that, he’d figure out another approach.

The Lexus showroom was in a quiet area near Nagoya Castle. Lexuses in a variety of colors were grandly lined up behind the wide glass show windows, every kind of car from sports cars to SUVs. Once inside the showroom, the distinctive new-car smell wafted toward him, a blend of new tires, plastic, and leather.

Tsukuru walked over to speak with a young woman seated behind the reception desk. She wore her hair up in a neat bun, revealing a slim white neck. A vase of large pink and white dahlias graced her desk.

“I’d like to see Mr. Oumi, please,” he told her.

She flashed him a calm, self-possessed smile that perfectly matched the bright, immaculate showroom. Her lipstick was a natural shade, her teeth beautifully even. “Mr. Oumi? Of course, sir. And you would be—?”

“Tazaki,” he said.

“Mr. Tasaki. And would you have an appointment for today?”

He didn’t correct her mispronunciation of his name, a common mistake. That would actually help.

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

“I see. If you would pardon me for a moment.” The woman pushed an extension button on her phone and waited for about five seconds, then spoke. “Mr. Oumi? A client named Mr. Tasaki is here to see you. Yes, that’s correct. Mr. Tasaki.”

He couldn’t hear what the other party was saying, just her short, clipped replies. Finally she said, “Yes, sir, I will let him know.”

She hung up the phone and looked at Tsukuru. “Mr. Tasaki, I’m afraid Mr. Oumi is busy at the moment and cannot get away. I’m very sorry, but could I ask you to wait? He said it shouldn’t take ten minutes.”

Her way of speaking was smooth and well trained, her use of Japanese honorifics flawless. She sounded truly apologetic at having to make him wait. Obviously she had been very well educated. Or maybe she was just naturally this kind of person?

“That’s fine. I’m in no hurry,” Tsukuru said.

She led him to a plush black leather sofa. Next to it was a huge decorative potted plant, and in the background an Antônio Carlos Jobim tune played. Glossy Lexus catalogs lay on top of the narrow glass coffee table.

“Would you care for coffee or tea? Or perhaps green tea?”

“A coffee would be nice,” Tsukuru said.

As he leafed through the catalog for the latest Lexus sedans, she brought over the coffee in a cream-colored cup imprinted with the Lexus logo. He thanked her. The coffee was delicious. It had a fresh aroma, and was the perfect temperature.

Tsukuru was glad he had decided to wear a suit and nice leather shoes. He had no idea what people coming to buy a Lexus normally wore, but they might not have taken him seriously if he’d been decked out in a polo shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Just before he left the house, he had suddenly changed his mind and put on a suit and tie.

He was kept waiting for fifteen minutes, during which time he learned the entire lineup of Lexus models. He discovered that Lexus didn’t give their different models names, like Corolla or Crown, but instead used numbers to distinguish models. Just like Mercedes-Benz and BMW. And Brahms symphonies.

A tall man finally appeared. He crossed the showroom in Tsukuru’s direction. He was broad-shouldered, and carried himself in a decisive manner, letting those around him know he was not about to waste any time getting from point A to point B. It was definitely Ao. Even seen from a distance, he looked nearly the same as he had in high school. He’d grown a little bigger, that was all, like a house with an addition when the family grows. Tsukuru placed the catalogs back on the tabletop and rose from the sofa.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. My name’s Oumi.”

Ao stood in front of Tsukuru, giving a slight bow. The suit that encased his large frame was perfectly pressed, without a single wrinkle. A refined suit, a mix of blue and gray in a light fabric. Considering his size, it must have been made to order. A light gray shirt and dark gray necktie completed the outfit. Tsukuru recalled how Ao had looked in high school and found it surprising to now see him so impeccably dressed. Ao’s hair, though, was unchanged, a rugby player’s buzz cut. And he was, as before, quite tan.

Ao’s expression changed slightly when he looked at Tsukuru. A slight doubt glinted in his eyes, as if he’d seen something in Tsukuru’s face he remembered, but couldn’t quite recall what it was. He smiled, swallowing back what he was about to say, waiting for Tsukuru to speak.

“It’s been a while,” Tsukuru said.

As he heard Tsukuru’s voice, the layer of doubt that had veiled Ao’s face suddenly lifted. Tsukuru’s voice hadn’t changed at all.

“Tsukuru?” he said, narrowing his eyes.

Tsukuru nodded. “I’m sorry to barge in on you at work like this, but I figured that was the best way.”

Ao took a deep breath, his shoulders lifting, and then slowly breathed out. He looked at Tsukuru’s whole body, as if inspecting him, his gaze running from top to bottom, then back to the top again.

“I can’t believe how much you’ve changed,” Ao said, sounding impressed. “If I’d passed you on the street I wouldn’t have recognized you.”

“You haven’t changed at all.”

Ao’s large mouth twisted to one side. “No way. I’ve put on weight. Got a potbelly now. And I can’t run fast anymore. Golf once a month with clients is about all I can manage.”

They were silent for a moment.

“You didn’t come here to buy a car, am I right?” Ao asked, as if confirming it.

“You’re right, I didn’t come to buy a car. If you’re free, I’d like to talk, just the two of us. Even for a short time.”

Ao gave a slight, unsure frown. His face always had given away his feelings, ever since Tsukuru had first known him.

“I have a pretty tight schedule today. I have to go visit some customers, and then I have a meeting in the afternoon.”

“Name a time that’s convenient for you. I’m fine with whatever works for you. It’s why I came back to Nagoya.”

Ao mentally reviewed his schedule, and glanced at the wall clock. It was eleven thirty. He rubbed the tip of his nose vigorously and then spoke, as if he’d made up his mind. “Okay. I’ll take a lunch break at twelve. I could meet you for a half hour. If you go out here, and turn left, you’ll see a Starbucks down the street. I’ll meet you there.”