Haruki Murakami - Kafka on the Shore

"Don't blow a fuse! Of course I believe you. It's just that when things are going along a little too smoothly, I get a bit suspicious, that's all. I mean, think about it-I'm walking along and a guy in a funny getup calls out to me, tells me he knows where to find the stone, then I go with him and get off with this drop-dead-gorgeous babe."

"Three times, you mean."

"Whatever. So I get off three times, and then you tell me the stone I'm looking for is right over there? That would confuse anybody."

"You still don't get it, do you? We're talking about a revelation here," Colonel Sanders said, clicking his tongue. "A revelation leaps over the borders of the everyday. A life without revelation is no life at all. What you need to do is move from reason that observes to reason that acts. That's what's critical. Do you have any idea what I'm talking about, you gold-plated whale of a dunce?"

"The projection and exchange between self and object…?" Hoshino timidly began.

"Good. I'm glad you know that much at least. That's the point. Follow me, and you can pay your respects to your precious stone. A special package deal, just for you."

I call up Sakura from the public phone in the library. I realize I haven't been in touch once since that night at her place-just a short note and that was it. I'm kind of embarrassed about the way I said good-bye. After I left her apartment I went right to the library, Oshima drove me up to the cabin for a few days, well out of range of any phone. Then I came to live and work at the library, encountering Miss Saeki's living spirit-or something like it-every night. And I've fallen head over heels for that fifteen-year-old girl. A ton of things happened, one after another-enough to keep anybody busy. Not that that's any excuse.

It's around nine p. m. when I call, and she answers after six rings.

"Where in the world have you been?" Sakura asks in a hard voice.

"I'm still in Takamatsu."

She doesn't say anything for a while. In the background I hear a music program on TV.

"Somehow I've survived," I add.

Silence, then a kind of resigned sigh.

"What did you mean by disappearing like that? I was worried about you, so I came home a little early that day. Even did some shopping for us."

"I know it was wrong. I do. But I had to leave. My mind was all messed up and I had to get away to think things out, try to get back on my feet. Being with you was-I don't know-I can't put it into words."

"Overstimulating?"

"Yeah. I've never been near a girl like that before."

"No kidding?"

"You know, the scent of a girl. All kinds of things…"

"Pretty rough being young, huh?"

"I guess," I say. "So how's your job going?"

"It's been a madhouse. But I wanted to work and save up some money, so I shouldn't complain."

I pause, then tell her about the police looking for me.

She's silent for a while, then cautiously says, "All that business with the blood?"

I decide to hold back on telling the truth. "No, that's not it. Nothing about the blood. They're after me because I'm a runaway. They want to catch me and ship me back to Tokyo, that's all. So the cops might get in touch with you. The other day, the night I stayed over, I called your cell phone using mine, and they traced the phone records and found I was here in Takamatsu."

"Don't worry," she says. "It's a prepaid phone, so there's no way they can trace the owner."

"That's a relief," I say. "I didn't want to cause you any more trouble than I already have."

"You're so sweet you're going to make me cry, you know that?"

"No, that's how I really feel."

"I know," she says like she'd rather not admit it. "So where's our little runaway staying these days?"

"Somebody I know is letting me stay over."

"Since when do you know anybody here?"

How could I possibly summarize everything that's happened to me in the past few days? "It's a long story," I say.

"With you it's always long stories."

"I don't why, but it always turns out that way."

"Sort of a tendency of yours?"

"I guess so," I reply. "I'll tell you all about it someday when I have the time. It's not like I'm hiding anything. I just can't explain it well over the phone."

"That's okay. I just hope you're not into anything you shouldn't be."

"No, nothing like that. I'm okay, don't worry."

She sighs again. "I can understand wanting to be out on your own, but just don't get mixed up with anything illegal, okay? It isn't worth it. I don't want to see you die some miserable teenage death like Billy the Kid."

"Billy the Kid didn't die in his teens," I correct her. "He killed twenty-one people and died when he was twenty-one."

"If you say so… Anyway, was there something you wanted?"

"I just wanted to thank you. I feel bad about leaving like that after you were so nice."

"Thanks, but why don't we just forget that, okay?"

"I wanted to hear your voice, too," I say.

"I'm happy to hear that, but how does that help anything?"

"I don't know how to put it exactly… This might sound strange, but you're living in the real world, breathing real air, speaking real words. Talking with you makes me feel, for the time being, connected to reality. And that's really important to me now."

"The people you're with now aren't?"

"I'm not sure," I tell her.

"So what you're saying is you're in some unreal place, with people cut off from reality?"

I think about that for a while. "You might say that."

"Kafka," Sakura says. "I know it's your life and I shouldn't butt in, but I think you'd better get out of there. I don't know what kind of place you're in, but I get the feeling that's the smart move. Call it a hunch. Why don't you come over to my place? You can stay as long as you like."

"Why are you so nice to me?"

"What are you, a dunce?"

"What do you mean?"

"'Cause I like you-can't you figure that out? I'm a basically curious type, but I wouldn't do this for just anybody. I've done all this for you because I like you, okay? I don't know how to put it, but you feel like a younger brother to me."

I hold the phone without saying a word. For a second I'm completely confused, even dizzy. Nobody's ever said anything like that to me. Ever.

"You still there?" Sakura asks.

"Yeah," I manage to say.

"Well, then say something."

I stand up straight and take a deep breath. "Sakura, I wish I could do that. I really do. But I can't right now. Like I told you, I can't leave here. I'm in love."

"With some complicated, unreal person?"

"You could say that."

I hear her sigh again-a deep, profound kind of sigh. "You know, when kids your age fall in love they tend to get a little spacey, so if the person you're in love with isn't connected to reality, that's a major problem. You follow me?"

"Yeah, I get it."

"Kafka?"

"Hmm?"

"If anything happens, call me, okay? Don't hesitate, at all."

"I appreciate it."

I hang up, go back to my room, put the single of "Kafka on the Shore" on the turntable, and lower the needle. And once more, whether I like it or not, I'm swept away to that place. To that time.

I sense a presence and open my eyes. It's totally dark. The fluorescent numbers on the alarm clock next to my bed show it's after three. I must've fallen asleep. In the faint light from the lamppost out in the garden I see her sitting there. As always she's at the desk, gazing at the painting on the wall. Motionless, head in her hands. And I'm lying in bed as before, trying hard not to breathe, eyes barely open, gazing at her silhouette. Outside the window the breeze from the sea is rustling the branches of the dogwood.

After a while, though, I sense that something's different. Something in the air that disturbs the perfect harmony of our little world. I strain to see through the gloom. What is it? The wind momentarily picks up, and the blood coursing through my veins begins to feel strangely thick and heavy. The dogwood branches draw a nervous maze on the windowpane. Finally it comes to me. The silhouette isn't that of the young girl. It looks a lot like her, almost an exact match. But it isn't exactly the same. Like a copy of a drawing laid over the real thing, some of the details are off. Her hairstyle is different, for one thing. And she has on different clothes. Her whole presence is different. Unconsciously I shake my head. It isn't the girl sitting there-it's someone else. Something's happening, something very important. I'm clutching my hands tightly beneath the covers, and my heart, unable to stand it anymore, starts pounding hard, beating out an unexpected, erratic rhythm.