Haruki Murakami - Kafka on the Shore

"Whoa-you're way over my head."

"The stone you're carrying there is Chekhov's pistol. It will have to be fired. So in that sense it's important. But there's nothing sacred or holy about it. So don't worry yourself about any curse."

Hoshino frowned. "This stone's a pistol?"

"Only in the metaphorical sense. Don't worry-bullets aren't about to shoot out." Colonel Sanders took a huge furoshiki cloth from a pocket and handed it to Hoshino. "Wrap it up in this. Better for people not to see it."

"I told you it was stealing!"

"Are you deaf? It's not stealing. We need it for something important, so we're just borrowing it for a while."

"Okay, okay. I get it. Following the rules of dramaturgy, we're of necessity moving matter."

"Precisely," Colonel said, nodding. "See, you do understand what I'm talking about."

Carrying the stone wrapped in the navy blue cloth, Hoshino followed the path back out of the woods, Colonel Sanders lighting the way for him with his flashlight. The stone was much heavier than it looked and Hoshino had to stop a few times to catch his breath. They quickly cut across the well-lit shrine grounds so no one would see them, then came out on a main street. Colonel Sanders hailed a cab and waited for Hoshino to climb in with the stone.

"So I should put it next to my pillow, huh?" Hoshino asked.

"Right," Colonel Sanders said. "That's all you have to do. Don't try anything else. Just having it there's the main thing."

"I should thank you. For showing me where the stone was."

Colonel Sanders grinned. "No need-just doing my job. Just consummating my function. But hey-how 'bout that girl, Hoshino?"

"She was amazing."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"She was real, right? Not a fox spirit or some abstraction or something messed up like that?"

"No spirit, no abstraction. Just one real, live sex machine. Genuine four-wheel-drive lust. It wasn't easy to find her. So rest assured."

"Whew!" Hoshino sighed.

By the time Hoshino laid the cloth-wrapped stone next to Nakata's pillow it was already past one a. m. He figured putting it next to Nakata's pillow instead of his own lessened the chance of any curse. As he'd imagined, Nakata was still out like the proverbial log. Hoshino untied the cloth so the stone was visible. He changed into his pajamas, crawled into the other futon, and instantly fell asleep. He had one short dream-of a god in short pants, hairy shins sticking out, racing around a field playing a flute.

At five that morning, Nakata woke up and found the stone beside his pillow.

Just after one o'clock I take coffee up to the second-floor study. The door, as always, is open. Miss Saeki's standing by the window gazing outside, one hand resting on the windowsill. Lost in thought, unaware that her other hand's fingering the buttons on her blouse. This time there's no pen or writing paper on the desk. I place the coffee cup on the desk. A thin layer of clouds covers the sky, and the birds outside are quiet for a change.

She finally notices me and, pulled back from her thoughts, comes away from the window, sits down at the desk, and takes a sip of coffee. She motions for me to sit in the same chair as yesterday. I sit down and look at her across the desk, sipping her coffee. Does she remember anything at all about what happened last night? I can't tell. She looks like she knows everything, and at the same time like she doesn't know a thing. Images of her naked body come to mind, memories of how different parts felt. I'm not even sure that was the body of the woman who's here in front of me. At the time, though, I'm a hundred percent sure.

She has on a light green, silky-looking blouse and a tight beige skirt. There's a thin silver necklace at her throat, very chic. Like some neatly crafted object, her slim fingers on the desk are beautifully intertwined. "So, do you like this area now?" she asks me.

"Do you mean Takamatsu?"

"Yes."

"I don't know. I haven't seen much of it, just a few things along the way. This library, of course, a gym, the station, the hotel… those kinds of places."

"Don't you find it boring?"

I shake my head. "I don't know yet. I haven't had time to get bored, and cities look the same anyway. Why do you ask? Do you think it's a boring town?"

She gave a slight shrug. "When I was young I did. I was dying to get out. To leave here and go someplace else, where something special was waiting, where I could find more interesting people."

"Interesting people?"

Miss Saeki shakes her head slightly. "I was young," she says. "Most young people have that feeling, I suppose. Haven't you?"

"No, I never felt that if I go somewhere else there'll be special things waiting for me. I just wanted to be somewhere else, that's all. Anywhere but there."

"There?"

"Nogata, Nakano Ward. Where I was born and grew up."

At the sound of this name something flashed across her eyes. At least it looked like it.

"As long as you left there, you didn't particularly care where you went?" she asks.

"That's right," I say. "Where I went wasn't the issue. I had to get out of there or else I knew I'd get totally messed up. So I left."

She looks down at her hands resting on the desk, a very detached look in her eyes. Then, very quietly, she says, "When I left here when I was twenty, I felt the same way. I had to leave or else I wouldn't survive. And I was convinced I'd never see this place again as long as I lived. I never considered coming back, but things happened and here I am. Like I'm starting all over again." She turns around and looks out the window.

The clouds covering the sky are the same tone as before, and there isn't any wind to speak of. The whole thing looks as still as the painted background scenery in a movie.

"Incredible things happen in life," she says.

"You mean I might go back to where I started?"

"I don't know. That's up to you, sometime well in the future. But I think where a person is born and dies is very important. You can't choose where you're born, but where you die you can-to some degree." She says all this in a quiet voice, staring out the window like she's talking to some imaginary person outside. Remembering I'm here, she turns toward me. "I wonder why I'm confessing all these things to you."

"Because I'm not from around here, and our ages are so different."

"I suppose so," she says.

For twenty, maybe thirty seconds, we're lost in our own thoughts. She picks up her cup and takes another sip of coffee.

I decide to come right out and say it. "Miss Saeki, I have something I need to confess, too."

She looks at me and smiles. "We're exchanging secrets, I see."

"Mine isn't a secret. Just a theory."

"A theory?" she repeats. "You're confessing a theory?"

"Yes."

"Sounds interesting."

"It's a sequel to what we're talking about," I say. "What I mean is, did you come back to this town to die?"

Like a silvery moon at dawn, a smile rises to her lips. "Perhaps I did. But it doesn't seem to matter. Whether you come to a place to live or to die, the things you do every day are about the same."

"Are you hoping to die?"

"I wonder…," she says. "I don't know myself."

"My father was hoping to die."

"Your father died?"

"Not long ago," I tell her. "Very recently, in fact."

"Why was your father trying to die?"

I take a deep breath. "For a long time I couldn't figure it out. But now I think I have. After coming here I finally understand."

"Why?"

"My father was in love with you, but couldn't get you back. Or maybe from the very beginning he couldn't really make you his. He knew that, and that's why he wanted to die. And that's also why he wanted his son-your son, too-to murder him. Me, in other words. He wanted me to sleep with you and my older sister, too. That was his prophecy, his curse. He programmed all this inside me."