Haruki Murakami - Kafka on the Shore

"Whew-that's a relief," Hoshino sighed. "After all we've been through, if the stone turns on us we're up a creek."

Hoshino spent the afternoon listening to his new CD. The performance wasn't as spontaneous and memorable as the one he'd heard in the coffee shop. It was more restrained and steady, but overall not so bad. As he lay back on the couch and listened, the lovely melody got to him, the subtle convolutions of the fugue stirring up something deep inside.

If I'd listened to this music a week ago, he told himself, I wouldn't have understood the first thing about it-or even wanted to. But chance brought him to that little coffee shop, where he sank back in that comfortable chair, enjoyed the coffee, and listened to the music. And now look at me, he thought, I'm into Beethoven-can you believe it? A pretty amazing development.

He played the piece over and over, testing out his newfound appreciation for music. The CD contained a second Beethoven trio, the Ghost. Not such a bad piece, he thought, though the Archduke was definitely his favorite. More depth, he concluded. All the while, Nakata was off in a corner, facing the white stone and muttering. Occasionally he'd nod or scratch his head. Two men off in their own little worlds.

"Does the music bother you?" Hoshino asked him.

"No, it's fine. Music doesn't bother me. To me it's like the wind."

"The wind, huh?"

At six Nakata made dinner-grilled salmon and a salad, plus a number of little side dishes he'd concocted. Hoshino switched on the TV and watched the news to see if there were any developments in the murder case. But there wasn't a word about it. Just other news-a kidnapping of an infant girl, the usual Israeli and Palestinian reprisals, a massive traffic accident on a highway in western Japan, a carjacking ring headed by foreigners, some cabinet minister's stupid discriminatory remark, layoffs at companies in the communication industry. Not a single upbeat story.

The two of them sat at the table and ate their dinner.

"This is really good," Hoshino said. "You're quite a cook."

"Much obliged. But you're the first person I've ever cooked for."

"You're telling me you never eat with friends or relatives or anybody?"

"Nakata knew many cats, but what we eat is very different."

"Well, yeah," Hoshino said. "But, anyway, this is delicious. Especially the vegetables."

"I'm happy you like it. Nakata can't read, so sometimes I make some terrible mistakes in the kitchen. So I always use the same ingredients and cook things the same way. If I could read, I could make all kinds of different dishes."

"These are just fine."

"Mr. Hoshino?" Nakata said in a serious tone, sitting up straight.

"Yeah?"

"Not being able to read makes life tough."

"I imagine so," Hoshino said. "The commentary with this CD says Beethoven was deaf. He was a famous composer, the top pianist in Europe when he was young. But then one day, maybe because of illness, he started to go deaf. In the end he couldn't hear a thing. Pretty rough to be a composer who can't hear. You know what I mean?"

"I think so."

"A deaf composer's like a cook who's lost his sense of taste. A frog that's lost its webbed feet. A truck driver with his license revoked. That would throw anybody for a loop, don't you think? But Beethoven didn't let it get to him. Sure, he must have been a little depressed at first, but he didn't let misfortune get him down. It was like, Problem? What problem? He composed more than ever and came up with better music than anything he'd ever written. I really admire the guy. Like this Archduke Trio-he was nearly deaf when he wrote it, can you believe it? What I'm trying to say is, it must be tough on you not being able to read, but it's not the end of the world. You might not be able to read, but there are things only you can do. That's what you gotta focus on-your strengths. Like being able to talk with the stone."

"Yes, I am able to talk with it a little now. Nakata used to be able to talk with cats."

"No one else can do that, right? Other people can read all the books they want and they're still not gonna know how to talk to stones or cats."

"These days, though, Nakata's having a lot of dreams. In my dreams, for some reason, I'm able to read. I'm not as dumb as I am now. I'm so happy and I go to the library and read lots of books. And I'm thinking how wonderful it is to be able to read. I'm reading one book after another, but then the light in the library goes out and it's dark. Somebody turned off the light. I can't see a thing. I can't read any more books. And then I wake up. Even if it's only in a dream, it's wonderful to be able to read."

"Interesting…," Hoshino said. "And here I'm able to read and hardly ever pick up a book. The world's a mixed-up place, that's for sure."

"Mr. Hoshino?" Nakata asked.

"What's up?"

"What day of the week is it today?"

"It's Saturday."

"So tomorrow would be Sunday?"

"Normally, yeah."

"Would you drive me tomorrow morning?"

"Sure, but where do you want to go?"

"Nakata doesn't know. I'll think about it after I get in the car."

"Believe it or not," Hoshino said, "I had a feeling that's what you were going to say."

Hoshino woke up the next morning just after seven. Nakata was already up cooking breakfast. Hoshino went to the bathroom, scrubbed his face with cold water, and shaved with an electric razor. They breakfasted on rice, miso soup with eggplant, dried mackerel, and pickles. Hoshino had a second helping of rice.

While Nakata washed the dishes Hoshino watched the news on TV. This time there was a short piece on the murder in Nakano. "Ten days have passed since the incident, but the police still have no leads," the NHK announcer droned. An impressive front gate of a house flashed on the screen, cordoned off, with a patrolman stationed outside.

"The search continues for the missing fifteen-year-old son of the deceased, though his whereabouts remain unknown. The search continues as well for a man in his sixties who lives in the neighborhood and stopped by a police station right after the incident to provide information regarding the murder. It remains unclear whether or not there is a connection between these two people. Because the inside of the house was undisturbed, the police believed that the crime was an act of personal revenge rather than a robbery gone bad and are investigating Mr. Tamura's friends and acquaintances. At the Tokyo National Modern Art Museum, where Mr. Tamura's artistic achievements are being honored-"

"Hey, Gramps," Hoshino called out to Nakata in the kitchen.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Do you know the son of this guy that was murdered in Nakano? This fifteen-year-old?"

"No, I don't. As I told you, all Nakata knows about is Johnnie Walker and his dog."

"Yeah?" Hoshino replied. "The police are looking for that boy, too. An only child, it sounds like, and there's no mention of his mom. I guess he ran away from home just before the murder and he's still missing."

"Is that so…"

"A hard nut to crack, this murder," Hoshino said. "But the police are a pretty tight-lipped bunch-they always know more than they let on. According to Colonel Sanders, they're on to you, and know you're in Takamatsu. Plus they know some handsome guy like me's with you. But they haven't leaked that to the media yet. They're afraid if they let on we're here, we'll hightail it somewhere else. That's why they're insisting they don't know where we are, publicly. A delightful bunch, cops."

At eight-thirty they went out to the rental car and climbed in. As he settled down into the passenger seat, Nakata had his usual thermos of hot tea with him, as well as his faithful shapeless hat, umbrella, and canvas bag. As they were leaving the apartment Hoshino was about to put on his Chunichi Dragons cap when he glanced in the mirror and was brought up short. The police must know the young guy they were looking for would be decked out in a Dragons ball cap, green Ray-Bans, and an aloha shirt. There couldn't be many people with Dragons caps on here in Takamatsu, and add on Ray-Bans and the shirt and he'd stick out like a sore thumb. So that's why Colonel Sanders stocked the place with inconspicuous navy blue polo shirts-he must've anticipated this. Nothing gets by him, Hoshino thought, and tossed the sunglasses and cap aside.