Haruki Murakami - Kafka on the Shore

"Sort of like Hansel and Gretel."

"Right-just like them. The forest has set a trap, and no matter what you do, no matter how careful you are, some sharp-eyed birds are going to eat up all your bread crumbs."

"I promise I'll be careful," I tell him.

Oshima lowers the top on the Miata and climbs in. He puts on his sunglasses and rests his hand on the gearshift. The forest echoes with the sound of that familiar roar. He brushes back his hair, gives an abbreviated wave, and is gone. Dust swirls around where he was, but the wind soon carries it away.

I go back inside the cabin. I lie down on the bed he'd been using and shut my eyes. Come to think of it, I didn't get much sleep last night either. The pillow and covers still show signs of Oshima having been there. Not him, really-more like his sleep. I sink down in those signs. I've slept for half an hour when there's a loud thump outside the cabin, like a tree branch snapped and tumbled to the ground. The sound jolts me awake. I get up and walk out to the porch to have a look, but everything looks the same. Maybe this is some mysterious sound the forest makes from time to time. Or maybe it was part of a dream. I can't tell one from the other.

Until the sun sinks down in the west, I sit out on the porch, reading my book.

I make a simple meal and eat it in silence. After clearing away the dishes I sink back in the old sofa and think about Miss Saeki.

"Like Oshima said, Miss Saeki's a smart person. Plus she has her own way of doing things," the boy named Crow says. He's sitting next to me on the sofa, just like when we were in my father's den. "She's very different from you," he tells me.

She's very different from you. She's overcome all kinds of obstacles-and not what you'd call normal obstacles, either. She knows all kinds of things you're clueless about, she's experienced a range of emotions you've never felt. The longer people live, the more they learn to distinguish what's important from what's not. She's had to make a lot of critical decisions, and has seen the results. Again, very different from you. You're only a child who's lived in a narrow world and experienced very little. You've worked hard to become stronger, and in some areas you actually have. That's a fact. But now you find yourself in a new world, in a situation you've never been in before. It's all new to you, so no wonder you feel confused.

No wonder you feel confused. One thing you don't understand very well is whether women have sexual desire. Theoretically, of course they do. That much even you know. But when it comes to how this desire comes about, what it's like-you're lost. Your own sexual desire is a simple matter. But women's desire, especially Miss Saeki's, is a total mystery. When she held you did she feel the same physical ecstasy? Or is it something altogether different?

The more you think about it, the more you hate being fifteen. You feel hopeless. If only you were twenty-no, even eighteen would be good, anything but fifteen-you could understand better what her words and actions mean. Then you could respond the right way. You're in the middle of something wonderful, something so tremendous you may never experience it again. But you can't really understand how wonderful it is. That makes you impatient. And that, in turn, leads to despair.

You try to picture what she's doing right now. It's Monday, and the library's closed. What does she do on her days off? You imagine her alone in her apartment. She does the laundry, cooks, cleans, goes out shopping-each scene flashes in your imagination. The more you imagine, the harder it gets to sit still here. You want to turn into a dauntless crow and fly out of this cabin, zoom out over these mountains, come to rest outside her apartment, and gaze at her forever.

Perhaps she stops by the library and goes into your room. She knocks but there's no answer. The door's unlocked. She discovers you're no longer there. The bed's made, and all your things are gone. She wonders where you disappeared to. Perhaps she waits a while for you to come back, sitting at the desk, head in hands, gazing at Kafka on the Shore. Thinking of the past that's enveloped in that painting. But no matter how long she waits, you don't return. She finally gives up and leaves. She walks over to her Golf in the parking lot and starts the engine. The last thing you want is to let her leave like this. You want to hold her, and know what each and every movement of her body means. But you're not there. You're all alone, in a place cut off from everyone.

You climb into bed and turn off the light, hoping that she'll show up in this room. It doesn't have to be the real Miss Saeki-that fifteen-year-old girl would be fine. It doesn't matter what form she takes-a living spirit, an illusion-but you have to see her, have to have her beside you. Your brain is so full of her it's ready to burst, your body about to explode into pieces. Still, no matter how much you want her to be here, no matter how long you wait, she never appears. All you hear is the faint rustle of wind outside, birds softly cooing in the night. You hold your breath, staring off into the gloom. You listen to the wind, trying to read something into it, straining to catch a hint of what it might mean. But all that surrounds you are different shades of darkness. Finally, you give up, close your eyes, and fall asleep.

Hoshino looked up rental car agencies in the Yellow Pages, picked one at random, and phoned them. "I just need a car for a couple of days," he explained, "so an ordinary sedan's fine. Nothing too big, nothing that stands out."

"Maybe I shouldn't say this," the rental clerk said, "but since we only rent Mazdas, we don't have a single car that stands out. So rest assured."

"Great."

"How about a Familia? A very reliable car, and I swear nobody will notice it at all."

"Sounds good. The Familia it is." The rental agency was near the station, and Hoshino told them he'd be over in an hour to pick up the car.

He took a taxi over, showed them his credit card and license, then rented the car for two days. The white Familia parked in the lot was, as advertised, totally unobtrusive. Turn away from it for a moment and every memory of what it looked like vanished. A notable achievement in the field of anonymity.

Driving back to the apartment, Hoshino stopped at a bookstore and picked up maps of Takamatsu city and the Shikoku highway system. He popped into a CD shop nearby to see if they had a copy of Beethoven's Archduke Trio, but the little shop had only a small classical section and one cheap, discount-bin version of the piece. Not the Million-Dollar Trio, unfortunately, but Hoshino went ahead and paid his eight dollars.

Back in the apartment, a soothing fragrance filled the place. Nakata was bustling around the kitchen preparing some steamed daikon and deep-fried flat tofu. "I had nothing to do, so I made a few dishes," he explained.

"That's great," Hoshino said. "I've been eating out too much these days, and it'll be nice to have a home-cooked meal for a change. Oh, hey-I got the car. It's parked outside. Do you need it right away?"

"No, tomorrow would be fine. Nakata has to talk more with the stone today."

"Good idea. Talking things over is important. Whether you're talking with people, or things, or whatever, it's always better to discuss things. You know, when I'm driving trucks I often talk to the engine. You can hear all kinds of things if you listen closely."

"Nakata can't talk with engines, but it is important to discuss things."

"So how's it going with the stone? You able to communicate?"

"We're starting to."

"That's good. I was wondering-is the stone upset we brought it here?"

"No, not at all. As far as I can make out, the stone doesn't much care where it is."