Хироми Каваками - Strange Weather in Tokyo [= The Briefcase]

“Tsukiko, in that situation I would just get wet going home.”

“But what if the thing you’re carrying couldn’t get wet? Like some kind of bomb that would ignite if it got wet.”

“I would never buy anything like that.”

“What if there were a dangerous character lurking in the shadows?”

“It’s just as likely that there would be a dangerous character lurking somewhere when I’m walking down the street with you, Tsukiko.”

“What if you slipped on the wet sidewalk on your way?”

“Tsukiko, you’re the one who falls, aren’t you? I train in the mountains.”

Everything Sensei said was right. I fell silent and cast my eyes downward.

“Tsukiko,” Sensei said softly after a moment. “I understand. I will get a mobile phone.”

What? I asked.

Sensei patted the top of my head and replied, “You never know when something might happen to us geezers.”

“You’re not a geezer, Sensei!” I contradicted him.

“In return…”

“What?”

In return, Tsukiko, I ask you not to call it a cell. Please refer to it as a mobile phone. I insist. I can’t stand to hear people call it a cell.

And that’s how Sensei came to have a mobile phone. Every so often I call it, just for practice. Sensei has only ever called me from it once.

“Sensei?”

“Yes?”

“Um, I’m at Satoru’s place.”

“Yes.”

“Yes” is all Sensei ever says. This might not be so unusual, but on a mobile phone, it becomes remarkable.

“Will you join me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so pleased.”

“Likewise.”

At last, an utterance other than “Yes.” Satoru grinned. He came out from behind the counter and went to hang the curtain outside, still grinning. I scooped some more miso paste with my finger and licked it. The aroma of oden cooking filled the bar.

THERE WAS ONE thing I was concerned about.

Sensei and I had not yet slept together.

I was concerned about it in the same way that I might be about the looming shadow of menopause that I already felt or about worrisome gamma-GTP levels in my liver function when I went for a checkup. When it comes to the workings of the human body, the brain, the internal organs, and the genitals were all part of the same whole. I became aware of this because of Sensei’s age.

I may have been concerned, but that’s not to say that I was frustrated by it. And if we never slept together, well, that was how it would be. But as for Sensei himself, he seemed to have quite a different attitude.

“Tsukiko, I’m a bit anxious,” Sensei said to me one day.

We were at Sensei’s house, eating yudofu . Since it was the middle of the day, Sensei had prepared yudofu in an aluminum pot for us to eat while we drank some beer. He made it with cod and chrysanthemum greens. When I made yudofu , tofu was the only ingredient. As I sat there, my head a little fuzzy from drinking in the daytime, it had occurred to me that this was how people who didn’t know each other developed a familiarity.

“Anxious?”

“Er, well, it’s been a long time since I was with my wife.”

Oh, I exclaimed, my mouth half-open. I was careful not to let Sensei stick in his finger, though. Ever since that time, Sensei would quickly poke his finger into my half-open mouth if I let my guard down. He was much more playful than I had realized.

“It’s fine, if we don’t do that,” I said hurriedly.

“By ‘that,’ do you mean what I think you mean?” Sensei’s expression was serious.

“Not ‘that,’ per se,” I replied as I readjusted myself, sitting on my heels.

Sensei nodded gravely. “Tsukiko, physical intimacy is essential. No matter how old you are, it’s extremely important.” He had assumed a firm tone, like back in the day when he would read aloud from The Tale of the Heike at his teacher’s podium.

“However, I don’t have any confidence that I’m capable of it. If I were to try when I was feeling insecure, and then if I couldn’t do it, my confidence would be even more diminished. And that is such a formidable outcome that it prevents me from even trying.” The Tale of the Heike continued.

“I sincerely apologize.” Sensei bowed deeply, concluding The Tale of the Heike . Still seated on my heels, I bowed too.

Uh, why don’t I help you? I wanted to say. We could give it a try soon. But, feeling the pressure of Sensei’s solemnity, I didn’t feel like I could say this to him. Nor could I tell him I didn’t give a damn about that. Or that I would rather he just go on kissing and holding me like always.

Since I couldn’t say any of these things, I poured some beer into Sensei’s glass. Sensei opened wide and drank it down, and I ladled some cod out of the pot. Chrysanthemum greens clung to the fish, creating a lovely contrast of green and white. Isn’t that pretty, Sensei? I said, and Sensei smiled. Then he patted the top of my head, as always, over and over.

We went to all kinds of places on our dates. Sensei preferred to call them “dates,” using the English word.

“Let’s go on a date,” Sensei would say. Even though we lived close to each other, we always met up at the station nearest the location of our date. We would make our separate ways to the station. If we ever ran into each other on the train on the way to meet up, Sensei would murmur something like, Oh-ho, Tsukiko, what a strange place to see you.

The place we went most often was the aquarium. Sensei loved to see the fish.

“When I was a little boy, I used to love to look at illustrated guides to fish,” Sensei explained.

“How old were you then?”

“I must have been in elementary school.”

Sensei had shown me a picture from when he was an elementary student. In the faded, sepia-toned photograph, Sensei was wearing a sailor hat and squinting his eyes as if it were too bright.

“You were cute,” I said.

Sensei nodded and said, “Well, Tsukiko, you’re still cute.”

Sensei and I stood in front of the migratory fish tank that held tuna and skipjack. Watching the fish go round and round in one direction, I was struck by the feeling that we had been standing there like this for a very long time, the two of us.

“Sensei?” I ventured.

“What is it, Tsukiko?”

“I love you, Sensei.”

“I love you too, Tsukiko.”

We spoke these words to each other sincerely. We were always sincere with each other. Even when we were joking around, we were sincere. Come to think of it, so were the tuna. And the skipjack. All living things were sincere, on the whole.

We also went to Disneyland, of course. As we were watching the evening parade, Sensei shed a few tears. I did too. Each of us, though together, was probably thinking of different things that made us cry.

“There is something wistful about the lights at night,” Sensei said as he blew his nose on a big white handkerchief.

“Sensei, you cry sometimes, don’t you?”

“With few exceptions, geezers are easily moved to tears.”

“I love you, Sensei.”

Sensei didn’t reply. He was watching the parade intently. His profile illuminated, Sensei’s eyes appeared sunken. Sensei, I said, but he didn’t reply at all. Once again I called Sensei, and there was no reply. I squeezed Sensei’s arm and gazed out at Mickey and the little people and Sleeping Beauty.

“I had fun on our date,” I said.

“I did too.” At last he replied to me.

“I hope you’ll ask me out again.”

“I will.”

“Sensei?”

“Yes?”

“Sensei?”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t go away.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The parade music grew significantly louder, and the little people leapt around. The procession finally began to recede. Sensei and I were left in the darkness. Bringing up the end of the line was Mickey, swinging his hips as he slowly walked along. Sensei and I held hands in the darkness. Then I shivered the slightest bit.