Haruki Murakami - Kafka on the Shore

"Probably?" Hoshino said.

The black cat didn't reply to that. He narrowed his eyes, stretched on the guardrail, and slowly got to his feet. "I'll be seeing you, Mr. Hoshino. Remember to kill it. If you don't do that, Mr. Nakata will never rest in peace. You liked the old man, didn't you?"

"Yeah. He was a good man."

"So you've got to kill it. Liquidate it with extreme prejudice, as I said. Mr. Nakata would've wanted you to. So do it for him. You've taken on his role now. You've always been a happy-go-lucky type, never taking responsibility for anything, right? Now's the chance to make up for that. Don't blow it, okay? I'll be rooting for you."

"That's encouraging," Hoshino said. "Oh, hey-I just thought of something."

"What?"

"Maybe the entrance stone is still open to lure it in?"

"Could be," Toro said diffidently. "One more thing. It only makes a move very late at night. So you should sleep during the day to make sure you don't fall asleep late and let it get away. That would be a catastrophe."

The black cat leaped nimbly onto the roof next door, straightened his tail, and walked away. For such a huge cat he was light on his feet. Hoshino watched from the veranda as the cat disappeared. Toro didn't look back even once.

"Man alive," Hoshino said, then went back into the kitchen to scout around for potential weapons. He found an extremely sharp kitchen knife, plus another heavy knife shaped like a hatchet. The kitchen had only a rudimentary assortment of pots and pans, but quite a collection of knives. In addition he selected a large, hefty hammer and some nylon rope. An ice pick rounded out his arsenal.

Here's where a nice automatic rifle would come in handy, he thought as he rummaged around the kitchen. He had been trained to shoot automatic rifles in the SDF, and was a decent marksman. Not that he expected to find a rifle in a cupboard somewhere. If anybody ever shot off an automatic rifle in a quiet neighborhood like this, there'd be hell to pay.

He laid all his weapons down on the living-room table-the two knives, ice pick, hammer, and rope. He put a flashlight beside them, then sat down next to the stone and began rubbing it.

"Jeez," Hoshino said to the stone. "A hammer and knives to fight something, and I don't even know what it is? With a black cat from the neighborhood calling the shots? What the hell kind of deal is this?"

The stone, of course, withheld comment.

"Toro said it probably wasn't dangerous. Probably? But what if something out of Jurassic Park springs up? What the hell am I supposed to do then, huh? I'd be a goner."

No response.

Hoshino grabbed the hammer and swung it around a few times.

"If you think about it, it's all fate. From the time I picked up Mr. Nakata at the rest area till now, it's like fate decided everything. The only one who hasn't had a clue has been me. Fate is one strange thing, man," Hoshino said. "Right? What's your take on it?"

The stone maintained its stony silence.

"Well, what can you do, right? I'm the one who chose this path, and I've got to see it through to the end. Kind of hard to imagine what repulsive thing's gonna pop out-but I'm okay with that. Got to give it my best shot. Life's short, and I've had some good times. Toro said this is a one-in-a-million chance. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to go out in a blaze of glory. At least try to win one for the old guy. For Mr. Nakata."

The stone's silent vigil continued.

Hoshino did as the cat had told him and took a nap on the sofa in preparation for the night. It felt strange to follow a cat's instructions, but once he did lie down he was able to sleep soundly for an hour. In the evening he went into the kitchen, defrosted some shrimp curry, and had it over rice. As it started to get dark, he sat down next to the stone, knives and hammer in easy reach.

He turned off all the lights except for a small table lamp. That's best, he figured. It only makes a move at night, he thought, so I might as well make it as dark as possible. I want to wind this up soon, too-so if you're out there, show your face! Let's get it over with, okay? Once we're finished here I'm going back to Nagoya, to my apartment, and call up some girl and get it on.

He no longer talked to the stone. He just waited there silently, glancing every so often at the clock. When he got bored he'd swing the knife and hammer around. If anything happens, he thought, it's got to be the middle of the night. Though of course it might take place before that, and he wanted to make sure he didn't miss his chance-his one-in-a-million chance. Now wasn't the time to slack off. Every once in a while he took a bite of cracker and a sip of mineral water.

"Hey, stone," Hoshino whispered. "It's past midnight now-the time the demons come out. The moment of truth. Let's you and me find out what's gonna happen, what d'ya say?" He reached out to touch the stone. Maybe it was just his imagination, but the surface seemed slightly warmer than usual. He rubbed it over and over, to buck up his courage. "I want you to root for me too, okay?" he said to the stone. "I could do with a little emotional support here."

It was a little after three a. m. when a faint rustling noise started to come from the room where Nakata's body lay. A sound like something crawling along tatami. But there weren't any tatami, because that room was carpeted.

Hoshino looked up and listened closely. No mistake about it, he thought, I don't know what it is, but something's happening in there. His heart started to pound. He stuck the hammer in his belt, grabbed the sharpest knife in his right hand, the flashlight in his left, and stood up.

"Here we go…," he said to no one in particular.

He crept silently to the door to Nakata's room and opened it. He switched on the flashlight and played it quickly around the body. That's definitely where the rustling had come from. The beam illuminated a long, pale, thin object that was squirming out of Nakata's mouth. The object reminded Hoshino of a gourd. It was as thick as a man's arm, and though he couldn't tell how long it was, Hoshino guessed that about half of it was out. Its wet body glistened like mucus. Nakata's mouth was stretched wide open like a snake's, to let the thing out. His jaw must have been unhinged, it was so wide open.

Hoshino gulped loudly. His hand holding the flashlight was trembling a little, the light wavering. Jeez, now how am I supposed to kill this thing? he wondered. It didn't seem to have any arms or legs, eyes or nose. So slimy you can't even get a good grip. So how am I supposed to liquidate it? And what the hell kind of creature is it, anyway?

Was it a kind of parasite that had been hiding inside Nakata all this time? Or was it the old man's soul? No, that can't be it. His intuition told him that kind of creepy thing couldn't have been inside Nakata. Even I know that much. It had to come from somewhere else, and it's going through Mr. Nakata just to get inside the entrance. It showed up when it wanted to, using Mr. Nakata as a kind of passageway for its own purposes. And I can't let that happen. That's why I've got to kill it. Like the cat said, liquidate it with extreme prejudice.

Hoshino went over to Nakata and quickly stabbed his knife into what seemed to be the head of the thing. He pulled out the knife and stabbed again, over and over. But there was little resistance to the knife, just the crisp feel you get when you plunge a knife into a soft vegetable. Below the slimy exterior there was no flesh, no bones. No organs, no brain. Once he pulled the blade out, the mucus covered up the wound right away. No blood or liquid oozed out. It doesn't feel a thing, Hoshino thought. No matter how fiercely he attacked it, the thing kept on creeping out of Nakata's mouth, nonplussed.

Hoshino tossed the knife to the floor and went back to the living room and picked up the heavy hatchet-shaped knife. He swung it down on the white thing over and over, splitting the head open, but just as he thought, there was nothing inside-just the same mushy white as the outer skin. He slashed at it a few times, finally severing part of the head, which squirmed like a slug on the floor for a moment, then stopped moving like it was dead. This had no effect on the rest of the body, which continued to ooze forward. Mucus soon covered up the wound, swelling up so the thing looked the same as before. None of this slowed it down as it wiggled on out of the old man's mouth.