Kafka on the Shore

Chapter 10

Is it all right, then, if Nakata calls you Kawamura?" He repeated the question to the striped brown cat, enunciating his words slowly, making it as easy to understand as he could.

This particular cat had said he thought he had run across Goma, the missing one-year-old tortoiseshell, in this vicinity. But from Nakata's viewpoint, he spoke very strangely. The feeling was mutual, for the cat seemed to be having its own problems following him. Their conversation was at cross purposes.

"I don't mind at all, the tallest of heads."

"Pardon me, but Nakata doesn't understand what you're saying. Forgive me, but I'm not so bright."

"It's a tuna, to the very end."

"Are you perhaps saying you'd like to eat a tuna?"

"No. The hands tied up, before."

Nakata never went into these conversations with cats expecting to be able to easily communicate everything. You have to anticipate a few problems when cats and humans try to speak to each other. And there was another factor to consider: Nakata's own basic problems with talking-not just with cats, but also with people. His easy conversation with Otsuka the previous week was more the exception than the rule, for invariably getting across even a simple message took a great deal of effort. On bad days it was more like two people on the opposite shores of a canal yelling to each other on a windy day. And today was one of those days.

He wasn't sure why, but striped brown cats were the hardest to get on the same wavelength with. With black cats things mostly went well. Communicating with Siamese cats was the easiest of all, but unfortunately there weren't too many stray Siamese wandering the streets, so the chance didn't present itself often. Siamese were mainly kept at home, well taken care of. And for some reason striped brown cats made up the bulk of the strays.

Even knowing what to expect, Nakata found Kawamura impossible to decipher. He enunciated his words poorly, and Nakata couldn't catch what each one meant, or the connection between them. What the cat said came off sounding more like riddles than sentences. Still, Nakata was infinitely patient, and had plenty of time on his hands. He repeated the same question, over and over, having the cat repeat his responses. The two of them were seated on a boundary stone marking a little park for children in a residential area. They'd been talking for nearly an hour, going round and round in circles.

"Kawamura is just a name I'll call you. It doesn't mean anything. Nakata gives names to each cat so it's easy to remember. It won't cause you any problems, I guarantee it. I'd just like to call you that, if you don't mind."

In response Kawamura kept muttering something incomprehensible, and seeing as how this wasn't likely to stop anytime soon Nakata interrupted, trying to move their talk along by showing Kawamura the photo of Goma once more.

"Mr. Kawamura, this is Goma. The cat that Nakata is looking for. A one-year-old tortoiseshell cat. She's owned by the Koizumis of the 3-chome neighborhood in Nogata, who lost track of her a while back. Mrs. Koizumi opened a window and the cat leaped out and ran away. So once more I'd like to ask you, have you seen this cat?"

Kawamura gazed at the photograph again and nodded.

"If it's tuna, Kwa'mura tied. Tied up, try to find."

"I'm sorry, but as I said a moment ago, Nakata is not very bright, and can't understand very well what you're getting at. Would you mind repeating that?"

"If it's tuna, Kwa'mura tries. Try to find and tied it up."

"By tuna, you mean the fish?"

"Tries the tuna, tie it, Kwa'mura."

Nakata rubbed his closely cropped, salt-and-pepper hair and puzzled this over. What could he possibly do to solve this tuna riddle and escape from the maze the conversation had become? No matter how much he put his mind to it, however, he was clueless. Puzzling things out logically, after all, wasn't exactly his forte. Totally blithe to it all, Kawamura lifted a rear leg and gave the spot just below his chin a good scratch.

Just then Nakata thought he heard a small laugh behind him. He turned and saw, seated on a low concrete wall next to a house, a lovely, slim Siamese looking at him with narrowed eyes.

"Excuse me, but would you by chance be Mr. Nakata?" the Siamese purred.

"Yes, that's correct. My name's Nakata. It's very nice to meet you."

"Likewise, I'm sure," the Siamese replied.

"It's been cloudy since this morning, but I don't expect we'll be seeing any rain soon," Nakata said.

"I do hope the rain holds off."

The Siamese was a female, just approaching middle age. She proudly held her tail up straight, and had a collar with a name tag. She had pleasant features and was slim, with not an ounce of extra fat.

"Please call me Mimi. The Mimi from La Bohème. There's a song about it, too: 'Si, Mi Chiamano Mimi.'"

"I see," Nakata said, not really following.

"An opera by Puccini, you know. My owner happens to be a great fan of opera," Mimi said, and smiled amiably. "I'd sing it for you, but unfortunately I'm not much of a singer."

"Nakata's very happy to meet you, Mimi-san."

"Same for me, Mr. Nakata."

"Do you live near here?"

"Yes, in that two-story house over there. The Tanabes' house. You see it, right? The one with the cream-colored BMW 530 parked in front?"

"I see," Nakata repeated. He had no idea what a BMW was, but he did spot a cream-colored car. That must be what she meant.

"Mr. Nakata," Mimi said, "I'm known as self-reliant, or perhaps you'd say a very private sort of cat, and I don't normally interfere in others' affairs. But that youngster-the one I believe you're referring to as Kawamura?-is not what I would call the brightest kitty in the litter. When he was still young a child hit him with his bicycle, the poor thing, and he struck his head against some concrete. Ever since then he hasn't made much sense. So even if you are patient with him, as I see you've been, you won't get anywhere. I've been watching for a while, and I'm afraid I couldn't just sit idly by. I know it's forward of me to do so, but I had to say something."

"No, please don't think that. I'm very happy you told me. Nakata's as dumb as Kawamura, I'm afraid, and can't get by without other people's help. That's why I get a sub city from the Governor every month. So I'm very happy to hear your opinion, Mimi."

"I take it you're looking for a cat," Mimi said. "I wasn't eavesdropping, mind you, but just happened to overhear you as I was taking a nap here. Goma, I believe you said the name was?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"And Kawamura has seen Goma?"

"That's what he told me. But Nakata can't figure out what he said after that."

"If you wouldn't mind, Mr. Nakata, why don't I step in and try to talk with him? It's easier for two cats to communicate, and I'm fairly used to the way he talks. So why don't I sound him out, then summarize it for you?"

"That would be very helpful, I'm sure."

The Siamese nodded lightly, and like a ballet dancer nimbly leaped down from the concrete wall. Black tail held up high like a flagstaff, she leisurely walked over and sat down beside Kawamura. He immediately began to sniff Mimi's rump, but the Siamese gave him a swift blow to the cheek and the younger cat shrank back. With barely a pause Mimi dealt him another blow to the nose.

"Now pay attention, you brainless dingbat! You stinky good-for-nothing!" Mimi hissed, then turned to Nakata. "You've got to show him who's in charge up front or you'll never get anywhere. Otherwise he'll go all spacey on you, and all you get is drivel. It's not his fault he's this way, and I do feel sorry for him, but what are you going to do?"

"I see," Nakata said, not at all sure what he was agreeing to.

The two cats began conversing, but they spoke so quickly and softly that Nakata wasn't able to catch any of it. Mimi grilled Kawamura in a sharp tone, the younger cat replying timidly. Any hesitation got him another merciless slap to the face. This Siamese cat was clever, and educated too. Nakata had met many cats up till this point, but never before one who listened to opera and knew models of cars. Impressed, he watched as Mimi went about her business with a brisk efficiency.

Once Mimi had heard everything she wanted to, she chased the younger cat off. "Be on your way!" she said sharply, and he dejectedly slunk away.

Mimi affably nestled up into Nakata's lap. "I think I've got the gist of it."

"Much obliged," Nakata said.

"That cat-Kawamura, that is-said he's seen Goma several times in a grassy spot just down the road. It's an empty lot they were planning to build on. A real estate firm bought up a car company's parts warehouse and tore it down, planning to put up a high-class condo. A citizens' movement's opposed the development, there was a legal battle, and the construction's been put on hold. The sort of thing that happens all the time these days. The lot's overgrown with grass and people hardly ever come there, so it's the perfect hangout for all the strays in the neighborhood. I don't keep company with many cats, and I don't want to get fleas, so I hardly ever go over there. As you're no doubt aware, fleas are like a bad habit-awfully hard to get rid of once you get them."

"I see," Nakata said.

"He told me the cat's just like the one in the photograph-a timid, pretty young tortoiseshell with a flea collar. Can't seem to speak that well, either. It's clear to anyone that it's a naive house cat that can't find its way back home."

"When was this, I wonder?"

"The last time he saw the cat seems to be three or four days ago. He's not very bright, so he's not even sure about days. But he did say it was the day after it rained, so I'm thinking it must have been Monday. I seem to recall it rained pretty hard on Sunday."

"Nakata doesn't know about the days of the week, but I think it did rain around then. He hasn't seen her since?"

"That was the last time. The other cats haven't seen her either, he says. He's a spacey, good-for-nothing cat, but I pressed him closely and believe most of what he says."

"I really want to thank you."

"No need-it was my pleasure. Most of the time I have only this worthless bunch of cats around here to talk to, and we never seem to agree on anything. I find it incredibly irritating. So it's a breath of fresh air to be able to talk with a sensible human such as yourself."

"I see," Nakata said. "There's one thing Nakata still doesn't understand. Mr. Kawamura kept going on about tuna, and I was wondering if he meant the fish?"

Mimi lithely lifted her left front leg, inspecting the pink flesh of the pad, and chuckled. "The youngster's terminology isn't very extensive, I'm afraid."

"Termanolgy?"

"The number of words he's familiar with is limited, is what I'm saying. So for him everything that's good to eat is tuna. For him tuna's the crème de la crème, as far as food goes. He doesn't know there are such things as sea bream, halibut, or yellowtail."

Nakata cleared his throat. "Actually, Nakata's very fond of tuna. Of course I like eel as well."

"I'm fond of eel myself. Though it's not the sort of thing you can eat all the time."

"That's true. You couldn't eat it all the time."

The two of them were silent for a time, eel musings filling the passing moments.

"Anyway, what that cat was getting at is this," Mimi said, as if suddenly remembering. "Not long after the neighborhood cats began hanging out at that vacant lot, a bad person showed up who catches cats. The other cats believe this man may have taken Goma away. The man lures them with something good to eat, then throws them inside a large sack. The man's quite skilled at catching cats, and a hungry, innocent cat like Goma would easily fall into his trap. Even the stray cats who live around here, normally a wary bunch, have lost a couple of their number to this man. It's simply hideous, because nothing could be worse for a cat than to be stuffed inside a bag."

"I see," Nakata said, and again rubbed his salt-and-pepper hair with his palm. "But what does this man do with the cats once he's caught them?"

"That I don't know. In the old days they used to make shamisens out of cat skin, but nowadays not too many people play the shamisen. And besides, I hear they mainly use plastic now. In some parts of the world people eat cats, though not in Japan, thank goodness. So I think we can exclude both of these as motives. Which leaves, let me see… people who use cats in scientific experiments. Cats are used a lot in experiments. One of my friends, in fact, was used in a psychology experiment at Tokyo University. A terrible thing, but it's a long story and I won't go into it now. There are also perverts-not many, mind you-who just enjoy tormenting cats. Catching a cat and chopping off its tail, for instance."

"What do they do after they chop it off?"

"Nothing. They just want to torment and hurt the cats. Makes them feel good for some reason. I'm afraid there are twisted people like that in the world."

Nakata gave this some thought. How could chopping off a cat's tail possibly be fun? "So what you're saying is that maybe this twisted person has taken Goma away?" he asked.

Mimi screwed up her long white whiskers and frowned. "I'd rather not think that, or even imagine it, but it is a possibility. Mr. Nakata, I haven't lived all that many years, but I've seen terrible things I never could have imagined. Most people look at cats and think what a life-all we do is lie around in the sun, never having to lift a finger. But cats' lives aren't that idyllic. Cats are powerless, weak little creatures that injure easily. We don't have shells like turtles, nor wings like birds. We can't burrow into the ground like moles or change colors like a chameleon. The world has no idea how many cats are injured every day, how many of us meet a miserable end. I happen to be lucky enough to live with the Tanabes in a warm and friendly family, the children treat me well, and I've got everything I need. But even my life isn't always easy. When it comes to strays, though, they have a very tough time of it."

"You're really smart, aren't you, Mimi?" Nakata said, impressed by the Siamese's eloquence.

"No, not really," Mimi replied, narrowing her eyes in embarrassment. "I just spend too much time lying in front of the TV and this is what happens-my head gets full of worthless facts. Do you ever watch TV, Mr. Nakata?"

"No, Nakata doesn't watch TV. The people on TV talk too fast, and I can't keep up with them. I'm dumb, so I can't read, and if you can't read TV doesn't make much sense. Sometimes I listen to the radio, but the words there are also too fast, and it tires me out. I much prefer doing this-enjoy talking with a cat outside, under the sky."

"Indeed," Mimi said.

"That's right," Nakata replied.

"I really hope that Goma is all right."

"Mimi, Nakata's going to have a look at that empty lot."

"According to the youngster, this man is very tall, and wears a strange tall hat and long leather boots. And he walks fast. He looks very unusual, so you'll recognize him right away, he told me. Whenever the cats that gather at the empty lot see him coming, they scatter in all directions. But a newcomer might not know enough to…"

Nakata stored this information away in his head, carefully folding it all away in a front drawer so he wouldn't forget it. The man is very tall, and wears a strange tall hat and long leather boots…

"I hope I've been of help," Mimi said.

"Nakata appreciates everything you've done. If you hadn't been kind enough to speak up I'd still be going round and round about tuna. I'm grateful."

"What I think," Mimi said, gazing up at Nakata with knit brows, "is that that man is trouble. A lot of trouble. He's more dangerous than you can ever imagine. If it were me I'd never go near that lot. But you're a human, and it's your job, after all, but I hope you'll take every precaution."

"Thank you very kindly. I'll be as careful as I can."

"Mr. Nakata, this world is a terribly violent place. And nobody can escape the violence. Please keep that in mind. You can't be too cautious. The same holds true for cats and human beings."

"I'll remember that," Nakata replied.

But he had no idea where and how the world could be violent. The world was full of things Nakata couldn't comprehend, and most things connected with violence fell into that category.

After saying good-bye to Mimi, he went to see the empty lot, which turned out to be about the size of a small playground. A tall plywood fence enclosed the lot, with a sign on it saying KEEP OUT: SITE OF FUTURE CONSTRUCTION (which Nakata, naturally, couldn't read). A heavy chain blocked the entrance, but around back was a gap in the fence, and he easily got inside. Someone must have pried it open.

All the warehouses that had originally stood there had been torn down, but the land hadn't been graded for construction and was covered with grass. Goldenrod grew as high as a child, a couple of butterflies flickering above it. Mounds of earth had hardened in the rain, in some places rising up in little hillocks. A perfect place for cats. People wouldn't come in, and there were all sorts of little creatures to catch and plenty of places to hide.

Kawamura was nowhere to be seen. Two scrawny cats with rough coats were there, but when Nakata called out a friendly greeting they just glanced at him coldly and disappeared into the weeds. Which made sense-none of them wanted to get caught and have his tail chopped off. Nakata himself certainly didn't want to have that happen to him, not that he had a tail. It was no wonder the cats were wary of him.

Nakata stood on higher ground and took a good look around. No one else was there, just the butterflies, searching for something, fluttering above the weeds. He found a good spot to sit down, lowered his canvas bag from his shoulder, took out two bean-jam buns, and had his usual lunch. He drank hot tea from a thermos, eyes narrowed as he quietly sipped. Just a quiet early afternoon. Everything was at rest, placid, harmonious. Nakata found it hard to believe that somebody might be lying in wait to torment and torture cats.

He rubbed his cropped salt-and-pepper hair as he chewed. If somebody else was with him he could explain-Nakata's not very bright-but unfortunately he was alone. All he could do was nod a few times to himself and continue chewing. Once he finished the buns he folded up the cellophane they'd been wrapped in into a compact square and put it in his bag. He screwed the lid back on the thermos tight and put it in his bag as well. The sky was covered with a layer of clouds, but from their color he could tell the sun was almost directly overhead.

The man is very tall, and wears a strange tall hat and long leather boots.

Nakata tried to picture this man, but had no idea what a strange tall hat and long leather boots looked like. In his whole life he'd never encountered any tall hats and long leather boots. Kawamura had told Mimi that you'd know him when you saw him. So, Nakata decided, I suppose I'll just have to wait until I see him. That's definitely the best plan. He stood up and relieved himself in the weeds-a long, honest pee-and then went over to a clump of weeds in a corner of the vacant lot, where he had the best chance of remaining hidden from sight, and sat out the rest of the afternoon, waiting for that strange man to show up.

Waiting was a boring task. He had no clue when the man might next appear-maybe tomorrow, maybe not for a week. Or maybe he'd never show up again-there was that possibility. But Nakata was used to aimless waiting and spending time alone, doing nothing. He wasn't bothered in the least.

Time wasn't the main issue for him. He didn't even own a watch. Nakata operated on his own sense of time. In the morning it got light, in the evening the sun set and it got dark. Once it got dark he'd go to the nearby public bath, and after coming home from his bath he'd go to sleep. The public bath was closed on certain days of the week, and when that happened he'd just give up and go back home. His stomach told him when it was time to eat, and when the time came for him to go pick up his sub city (somebody was always nice enough to tell him when that day was near) he knew another month had passed. The next day he'd always go for a haircut at the local barber shop. Every summer someone from the ward office would treat him to eel, and every New Year they'd bring him rice cakes.

Nakata let his body relax, switched off his mind, allowing things to flow through him. This was natural for him, something he'd done ever since he was a child, without a second thought. Before long the borders of his consciousness fluttered around, just like the butterflies. Beyond these borders lay a dark abyss. Occasionally his consciousness would fly over the border and hover over that dizzying, black crevass. But Nakata wasn't afraid of the darkness or how deep it was. And why should he be? That bottomless world of darkness, that weighty silence and chaos, was an old friend, a part of him already. Nakata understood this well. In that world there was no writing, no days of the week, no scary Governor, no opera, no BMWs. No scissors, no tall hats. On the other hand, there was also no delicious eel, no tasty bean-jam buns. Everything is there, but there are no parts. Since there are no parts, there's no need to replace one thing with another. No need to remove anything, or add anything. You don't have to think about difficult things, just let yourself soak it all in. For Nakata, nothing could be better.

Occasionally he dozed off. Even when he slept, though, his senses, ever vigilant, kept watch over the vacant lot. If something happened, if somebody came, he could wake up and do what needed to be done. The sky was covered with a flat line of gray clouds, but at least it wasn't going to rain. The cats all knew it. And so did Nakata.