Kafka on the Shore

Chapter 22

The truck Nakata was riding in arrived in Kobe just after five in the morning. It was light out, but the warehouse was still closed and their freight couldn't be unloaded. They parked the truck in a broad street near the harbor and took a nap. The young driver stretched out on the back seat-his usual spot for napping-and was soon snoring away contentedly. His snores sometimes woke Nakata up, but each time he quickly dropped back into a comfortable sleep. Insomnia was one phenomenon Nakata had never experienced.

A little before eight the young driver sat up and gave a big yawn. "Hey, Gramps, ya hungry?" he asked. He was busy shaving with an electric razor, using the rearview mirror.

"Now that you mention it, yes, Nakata does feel a little hungry."

"Well, let's go grab some breakfast."

From the time they left Fujigawa to their arrival in Kobe, Nakata had spent most of the time sleeping. The young driver barely said a word the whole time, just drove on, listening to a late-night radio show. Occasionally he'd sing along to a song, none of which Nakata had ever heard before. He wondered if they were even in Japanese, since he could barely understand any of the lyrics, just the occasional word. From his bag he took out the chocolate and rice balls he'd gotten from the two young office girls in Shinjuku, and shared them.

The driver had chain-smoked, saying it helped keep him awake, so Nakata's clothes were reeking of smoke by the time they arrived in Kobe.

Bag and umbrella in hand, Nakata clambered down from the truck.

"You better leave that stuff in the truck," the driver said. "We're not going far, and we'll come right back after we eat."

"Yes, you're quite right, but Nakata feels better having them."

The young man frowned. "Whatever. It's not like I'm lugging them around. It's up to you."

"Much obliged."

"My name's Hoshino, by the way. Spelled the same as the former manager of the Chunichi Dragons. We're not related, though."

"Mr. Hoshino, is it? Very glad to meet you. My name is Nakata."

"Come on-I knew that already," Hoshino said.

He knew the neighborhood and strode off down the street, Nakata almost having to trot to keep up. They wound up in a small diner down a back street, seated among other truck drivers and stevedores from the docks. Not a single necktie in sight. All of them were intently shoveling in their breakfasts like they were filling up a gas tank. The place was filled with the clatter of dishes, the waitress yelling out orders, the morning NHK news on the TV buzzing in the corner.

Hoshino pointed to the menu taped to the wall. "Just order whatever you want, Gramps. The food's cheap here, and pretty good."

"All right," Nakata said, and did as he was told, staring at the menu until he remembered he couldn't read. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hoshino, but I'm not very bright and can't read."

"Is that right?" Hoshino said, amazed. "Can't read? That's pretty rare these days. But that's okay. I'm having the grilled fish and omelette-why don't you get the same?"

"That sounds good. Grilled fish and omelettes are some of Nakata's favorites."

"Glad to hear it."

"I enjoy eel a lot, too."

"Yeah? I like eel myself. But eel's not something you have in the morning, is it."

"That's right. And Nakata had eel last night, when Mr. Hagita bought some for me."

"Glad to hear it," Hoshino said again. "Two orders of the grilled fish set plus omelettes!" he yelled out to the waitress. "And super-size one of the rices, okay?"

"Two grilled fish sets, plus omelettes! One rice super-size!" the waitress called loudly to the cooks.

"Isn't it kind of a pain, not being able to read?" Hoshino asked.

"Yes, sometimes I have trouble because I can't read. As long as I stay in Nakano Ward in Tokyo it's not so bad, but if I go somewhere else, like now, it's very hard for me."

"I guess so. Kobe's pretty far from Nakano."

"Nakata doesn't know north and south. All I know is left and right. So I get lost, and can't buy tickets, either."

"Incredible you were able to get this far."

"Many people were kind enough to help me. You're one of them, Mr. Hoshino. I don't know how to thank you."

"That must be tough, though, not being able to read. My grandad was pretty senile, but he could still read well enough."

"I'm especially dumb."

"Is everybody in your family like that?"

"No, they aren't. My older brother is a depart mint head at a place called Itoh-chew, and my younger brother works at an office called Em-i-tee-i."

"Wow," Hoshino said. "Pretty elite bunch. So you're the only one who's a bit off, huh?"

"Yes, Nakata's the only one who had an accident and isn't bright. That's why I'm always being told not to go out too much and cause any trouble for my brothers, nieces, and nephews."

"Yeah, I guess most people would find it kind of awkward to have someone like you show up."

"I don't understand difficult things, but I know that as long as I stay in Nakano Ward I don't get lost. The Governor helped me out, and I got along well with cats. Once a month I got my hair cut and every once in a while I'd eat eel. But after Johnnie Walker, Nakata couldn't stay in Nakano anymore."

"Johnnie Walker?"

"That's right. He has boots and a tall black hat, and a vest and walking stick. He collects cats to get their souls."

"You don't say…," Hoshino said. "I don't have much patience with long stories. So anyway, something happened and you left Nakano, right?"

"That's right. I left Nakano."

"So where are you headed?"

"Nakata doesn't know yet. But after we got here I knew I had to go across a bridge. A big bridge near here."

"Ah, so you're going to Shikoku."

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Hoshino, but I don't know geography very well. If you go over the bridge are you in Shikoku?"

"Yeah. If you're talking about a big bridge around here, that's the one to Shikoku. There're three of them, actually. One goes from Kobe to Awaji Island, then on to Tokushima. Another goes from below Kurashiki over to Sakaide. And one connects Onomichi and Imabari. One bridge would've been plenty, but politicians stuck their noses into it and they wound up with three. Typical pork-barrel projects." Hoshino poured out some water onto the resin tabletop and drew an abbreviated map of Japan with his finger, indicating the three bridges connecting Honshu and Shikoku.

"Are these bridges really big?" Nakata asked.

"They're huge."

"Is that right? Anyway, Nakata's going to cross over one of them. Probably whichever one is closest. I'll figure out what to do after that later on."

"So what you're saying is you don't have any friends or anybody where you're headed?"

"No, Nakata doesn't know anybody there."

"You're just going to cross the bridge to Shikoku and then go somewhere else."

"That's right."

"And you don't know where that somewhere is."

"I have no idea. But I think I'll know it when I get there."

"Jeez," Hoshino said. He brushed back his hair, gave his ponytail a tug, and put on his Chunichi Dragons cap.

Their food was served, and they started eating.

"Pretty good omelette, huh?" Hoshino asked.

"Yes, it's very good. It tastes different from the omelettes I always eat in Nakano."

"That's 'cause it's Kansai style. Not at all like those tasteless flat things that pass as omelettes in Tokyo."

The two of them then silently enjoyed their meal, the omelettes, salt-grilled mackerel, miso soup with shellfish, pickled turnips, seasoned spinach, seaweed. They didn't leave a grain of rice. Nakata made sure to chew each bite thirty-two times, so it took quite a while for him to finish.

"Get enough, Mr. Nakata?"

"Yes, plenty. How about you, Mr. Hoshino?"

"Even me, I'm stuffed. Perks up the old spirits, doesn't it, to have such a great breakfast?"

"Yes, it certainly does."

"How 'bout it? Gotta take a dump?"

"Now that you mention it, I do feel like it."

"Go right ahead. Toilet's over there."

"What about you, Mr. Hoshino?"

"I'll go later on. Take my time about it."

"Thank you. Nakata will go take a dump, then."

"Hey, not so loud. People are still eating here."

"I'm sorry. Nakata's not very bright."

"Never mind. Just go."

"Do you mind if I brush my teeth, too?"

"No, go ahead. We got time. Do whatever you want. Tell you what, I don't think you'll be needing that umbrella. You're just going to the toilet, right?"

"All right. I'll leave the umbrella."

When Nakata came back from the toilet Hoshino had already paid their bill.

"Mr. Hoshino, I have money with me, so please let me at least pay for breakfast."

Hoshino shook his head. "It's okay. I owe my grandpa big time. Back then I was kind of wild."

"I see. But I'm not your grandfather."

"That's my problem, so don't worry about it. No arguments, okay? Just let me treat you."

After a moment's thought Nakata decided to accept the young man's generosity. "Thank you so much then. It was a wonderful meal."

"Hey, it's just some mackerel and omelettes at a nothing little diner. No need to bow like that."

"But you know, Mr. Hoshino, ever since Nakata left Nakano Ward everyone's been so nice to me I haven't had to use hardly any money at all."

"Sweet," Hoshino said, impressed.

Nakata had a waitress fill his little thermos with hot tea, then he carefully replaced it in his bag. Walking back to where the truck was parked, Hoshino said, "So, about this going to Shikoku thing…"

"Yes?" Nakata replied.

"Why do you want to go there?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know why you're going, or even where you're going. But you've still got to go to Shikoku?"

"That's right. Nakata's going to cross a big bridge."

"Things'll be clearer once you're on the other side?"

"I think so. I won't know anything until I cross the bridge."

"Hmm," Hoshino said. "So crossing that bridge is very important."

"Yes, that's more important than anything."

"Man alive," Hoshino said, scratching his head.

The young man had to drive his truck over to the warehouse to deliver his load of furniture, so he told Nakata to wait for him at a small park near the harbor.

"Don't move from here, okay?" Hoshino cautioned him. "There's a restroom over there, and a water fountain. You got everything you need. If you wander off somewhere, you might not find your way back."

"I understand. I'm not in Nakano Ward anymore."

"Exactly. This isn't Nakano. So sit tight, and I'll be back real soon."

"All right. I'll stay right here."

"Good. I'll be back as soon as I finish my delivery."

Nakata did as he was told, not moving from the bench, not even to use the restroom. He didn't find staying put in one place for a long time very hard. Sitting still, in fact, was his specialty.

He could see the sea from where he sat. This he hadn't seen for a long, long time. When he was little, he and his family had gone to the seaside any number of times. He'd put on trunks, splash around on the shore, gather seashells at low tide. But these memories weren't clear. It was like this had taken place in another world. Since then, he couldn't recall seeing the sea even once.

After the strange incident in the hills of Yamanashi, Nakata went back to school in Tokyo. He'd regained consciousness and physically was fine, but his memory had been wiped clean, and he never regained the ability to read and write. He couldn't read his school textbooks, and couldn't take any tests. All the knowledge he'd gained up till then had vanished, as had the ability, to a great extent, to think in abstract terms. Still, they let him graduate. He couldn't follow what was being taught, and instead sat quietly in a corner of the classroom. When the teacher told him to do something, he followed her instructions to the letter. He didn't bother anyone, so teachers tended to forget he was even there. He was more like a guest sitting in than a burden.

People soon forgot that until the accident he'd always gotten straight As. But now the school activities and events took place without him. He didn't make any friends. None of this bothered him, though. Being left alone meant he could be lost in his own little world. What absorbed him the most at school was taking care of the rabbits and goats they raised there, tending the flower beds outside and cleaning the classrooms. A constant smile on his face, he never tired of these chores.

He was essentially forgotten about at home, too. Once they learned that their eldest son couldn't read anymore or follow along with his lessons, Nakata's parents-totally focused on their children's education-ignored him and turned their attention to his younger brothers. It was impossible for Nakata to go on to public junior high, so once he graduated from elementary school he was sent to live with relatives in Nagano Prefecture, in his mother's hometown. There he attended agriculture school. Since he still couldn't read he had a hard time with his schoolwork, but he loved working in the fields. He might even have become a farmer, if his classmates hadn't tormented him so much. They enjoyed beating up this outsider, this city kid, so much. His injuries became so severe (one cauliflower ear included) that his grandparents pulled him out of school and kept him at home to help out around the house. Nakata was a quiet, obedient child, and his grandparents loved him very much.

It was about this time that he discovered he could speak with cats. His grandparents had a few cats around the house, and Nakata became good friends with them. At first he was able to speak only a few words, but he knuckled down like he was trying to master a foreign language and before long was able to carry on extended conversations. Whenever he was free he liked to sit on the porch and talk with the cats. For their part, the cats taught him a lot about nature and the world around him. Actually almost all the basic knowledge he had about the world and how it worked he learned from his feline friends.

At fifteen he was sent to a nearby furniture company to learn woodworking. It was less a factory than a small woodworking shop making folkcraft-type furniture. Chairs, tables, and chests made there were shipped to Tokyo. Nakata grew to love woodworking. His boss took a great liking to him, for he was skilled with his hands, never skipped any small details, didn't talk much, and never, ever complained. Reading a blueprint and adding figures weren't his forte, but aside from these tasks he did well at everything he set his hand to. Once he got the manufacturing steps in his mind he could repeat them endlessly, tirelessly. After a two-year apprenticeship he was given full-time employment.

Nakata worked there until he was past fifty, never once having an accident or calling in sick. He didn't drink or smoke, didn't stay up late or overeat. He never watched TV, and listened to the radio only for the morning exercise program. Day after day he just made furniture. His grandparents eventually passed away, as did his parents. Everybody liked him, though he didn't make any close friends. Perhaps that was only to be expected. When most people tried talking to Nakata, ten minutes was all it took for them to run out of things to say.

Still, he never felt lonely or unhappy. He never felt sexual desire, or even wanted to be with anyone. He understood he was different from other people. Though no one else noticed this, he thought his shadow on the ground was paler, lighter, than that of other people. The only ones who really understood him were the cats. On days off he'd sit on a park bench and spend the whole day chatting with them. Strangely enough, with cats he never ran out of things to talk about.

The owner of the furniture company passed away when Nakata was fifty-two, and the woodworking shop was closed soon afterward. That kind of gloomy, dark, traditional furniture didn't sell as well as it used to. The craftsmen were all getting on in years, and no young people were interested in learning the trade. The shop itself, originally in the middle of a field, was now surrounded by newly built homes, and complaints started to come in about both the noise and the smoke when they burned wood shavings. The owner's son, who worked in town for an accounting firm, had no interest in taking over the business, so as soon as his father passed away he sold the property to a real estate developer. For his part, the developer tore down the shop, had the land graded, and sold it to an apartment complex developer, who constructed a six-story condominium on the property. Every single apartment in the condo sold out on the first day they were put on sale.

That's how Nakata lost his job. The company had some outstanding loans to pay off, so he received only a pittance as retirement pay. Afterward he couldn't find another job. Who was going to hire an illiterate man in his fifties whose only skill was crafting antique furniture nobody wanted anymore?

Nakata had worked steadily for thirty-seven years at the plant without taking a single day of leave, so he did have a fair amount of money in his savings account at the local post office. He generally spent very little on himself, so even without finding another job he should have been able to have a comfortable old age on his savings. Since he couldn't read or write, a cousin of his who worked at city hall managed his account for him. Though kind enough, this cousin wasn't so quick on the uptake and was tricked into investing in a condominium at a ski resort by an unscrupulous real estate broker and ended up deeply in debt. Around the same time that Nakata lost his job, this cousin disappeared with his entire family to escape his creditors. Some yakuza-type loan sharks were after him, apparently. Nobody knew where this family was, or even if they were still alive.

When Nakata had an acquaintance go with him to the post office to check on the balance in his account, he found out that only a few hundred dollars were left. His retirement pay, which had been deposited directly into the account, had also vanished. One could only say that Nakata was extremely unlucky-losing his job and finding himself penniless. His relatives were sympathetic, but they'd been asked to put up collateral and likewise lost everything they'd invested with the cousin. So none of them had the resources to help Nakata in his time of need.

In the end the older of Nakata's two younger brothers in Tokyo decided to look after him for the time being. He owned a small apartment building in Nakano that catered to single men-this was part of his inheritance from his parents-and he offered one of the units to his older brother. He also looked after the money his parents had willed to Nakata-not a great amount-and arranged for him to receive a subsidy for the mentally challenged from the Tokyo Metropolitan Government. That was the extent of the brother's "care." Despite his illiteracy, Nakata was able to take care of his daily needs by himself, and as long as his rent was covered he was able to manage.

His two brothers had very little contact with him. They saw him a few times when he first moved back to Tokyo, but that was it. They had lived apart for over thirty years, and their lifestyles were too different. Neither brother had any particular feelings toward him, and in any case they were too busy with their own careers to take care of a retarded sibling.

But this cold treatment by his relatives didn't faze Nakata. He was used to being alone and actually tensed up if people went out of their way to be nice to him. He wasn't angry, either, that his cousin had squandered his life savings. Naturally he understood it was too bad it happened, but he wasn't disappointed by the whole affair. Nakata had no idea what a resort condo was, or what "investing" meant, nor did he understand what taking out a "loan" involved. He lived in a world circumscribed by a very limited vocabulary.

Only amounts up to fifty dollars or so had any meaning to him. Anything above that-a thousand dollars, ten thousand, a hundred thousand-was all the same to him. A lot of money, that's all it meant. He might have savings, but he'd never seen it. They just told him, "This is how much you have in your account," and told him an amount, which to him was an abstract concept. So when it all vanished he never had the sense that he'd actually lost something real.

So Nakata lived a contented life in the small apartment his brother provided, receiving his monthly subsidy, using his special bus pass, going to the local park to chat with the cats. This little corner of Nakano became his new world. Just like dogs and cats, he marked off his territory, a boundary line beyond which, except in unusual circumstances, he never ventured. As long as he stayed there he felt safe and content. No dissatisfactions, no anger at anything. No feelings of loneliness, anxieties about the future, or worries that his life was difficult or inconvenient. Day after day, for more than ten years, this was his life, leisurely enjoying whatever came along.

Until the day that Johnnie Walker showed up.

Nakata hadn't seen the sea in years, for there was no sea in Nagano Prefecture, or in Nakano Ward. Now for the first time, he realized that he'd lost the sea for so long. He hadn't even thought about it all those many years. He nodded several times to himself, confirming this fact. He took off his hat, rubbed his closely-cropped head with his palm, put his hat back on, and gazed out at the sea. This is the extent of his knowledge of the sea: it was very big, it was salty, and fish lived there.

He sat there on the bench, breathing in the scent of the sea, watching seagulls circle overhead, gazing at ships anchored far offshore. He didn't tire of the view. An occasional white seagull would alight on the fresh summer grass in the park. The white against the green was beautiful. Nakata tried calling out to the seagull as it walked over the grass, but it didn't reply and just stared at him coolly. There were no cats around. The only animals in the park were seagulls and sparrows. As he sipped hot tea from his thermos, rain began pelting down, and Nakata opened up his precious umbrella.

By the time Hoshino came back to the park, just before twelve, it had stopped raining. Nakata was seated on the bench just as he'd left him, umbrella folded, staring out at the sea. Hoshino had parked his truck somewhere and arrived in a taxi.

"Hey, I'm sorry it took so long," he apologized. A vinyl Boston bag hung from his shoulder. "I thought I'd be finished sooner but all kinds of things came up. It's like every department store has one guy who's got to be a pain in the butt."

"Nakata didn't mind at all. I was just sitting here, looking at the sea."

"Hmm," Hoshino murmured. He looked out in the same direction, but all he saw was a shabby old pier and oil floating on the surface of the water.

"I haven't seen the sea in a long time."

"That right?"

"The last time I saw it was in elementary school. I went to the seaside at Enoshima."

"I bet that was a long time ago."

"Japan was occupied by the Americans back then. The seashore at Enoshima was filled with American soldiers."

"You gotta be kidding."

"No, I'm not kidding."

"Come on," Hoshino said. "Japan was never occupied by America."

"Nakata doesn't know the details, but America had planes called B-29s. They dropped a lot of bombs on Tokyo, so I went to Yamanashi Prefecture. That's where I got sick."

"Yeah? Whatever… I told you I don't like long stories. Anyway, let's head on out. It took longer than I thought, and it's gonna be dark soon if we don't get a move on."

"Where are we going?"

"Shikoku, of course. We'll cross the bridge. You said you're going to Shikoku, didn't you?"

"I did. But what about your job?"

"Don't worry about it. It'll still be there when I get back. I've been putting in some long hours and was thinking I should take a few days off. To tell the truth, I've never been to Shikoku either. Might as well check it out. Plus you can't read, right? So it'll be a whole lot easier if I'm with you to help buy the tickets. Unless you don't want me along."

"No, Nakata would be happy to have you along."

"Then let's do it. I already checked out the bus schedule. Shikoku-here we come!"