Mr. Koyasu hunched over in front of the stove, eyes shut, for a long time maintaining his silence as if turning things over in his mind. He remained utterly motionless.
“You’re a person who’s lost his shadow once,” he finally said, breaking the silence. He straightened up, opened his eyes, and looked at me.
“How do you know that? That I’m a person who once lost his shadow?”
Mr. Koyasu shook his head twice. “I am a ghost. A consciousness without life. As a result, I can see things that ordinary people cannot see, and understand things ordinary people cannot understand. I could tell at a glance you once lost your shadow.”
“What does it mean, when a person loses their shadow?”
Mr. Koyasu narrowed his eyes, as if focusing on something very bright.
“I see—so you don’t understand this, do you?”
“I really don’t. I didn’t know what it meant at the time, and I still don’t. I was just carried along, unresisting, by the flow of things. And in that process you can’t determine anything with certainty, and as all this happened, my shadow and I were separated from each other. In a town where no one had a shadow.”
Mr. Koyasu said nothing, and just kept on stroking his chin. And then, slowly, he opened his mouth to speak.
“As I said earlier, even though I’m dead, there are still many things I don’t understand. Just like back when I was alive. Unfortunately, dying doesn’t make you any wiser. So sadly, I don’t think I can give a definite answer at this point. There are still things in this world that can’t easily be explained.”
Mr. Koyasu lifted his left wrist and glanced at his watch without hands. From his expression it seemed that even without hands, it served his purposes as a watch. Or perhaps he was just keeping up habits from when he was alive.
“I will need to excuse myself pretty soon,” Mr. Koyasu said. “I can’t maintain this temporary form for long. I can remain longer on the earth at night than during the day, and I’ve reached my limit. It’s about time for me to vanish. Let’s get together and talk again. Well, that is, if you would like to. If it’s too much trouble, then I won’t appear before you.”
“No,” I hurriedly said. To emphasize that word, I shook my head several times. “No, it’s no trouble whatsoever. I would like to see you again. There’s so much I’d like to talk with you about. What would be the best way for us to see each other?”
“Unfortunately, I can’t just appear before you whenever I want to. The opportunities are limited. And I can’t stay very long. So I have no idea myself when I’m able to meet with you. It’s not a matter of free will, of me thinking, ‘Okay, I’ll take on a visible form now.’ If it’s alright with you, ah, I’ll call you at home like I did today. And let’s meet here, in this room, in front of the stove. It’ll probably be at night again. As I said before, it’s easier for me to materialize after it’s dark. Would that be alright with you? It’s a little selfish, I know.”
“That would be fine. Anytime is fine with me. Just call me, and I’ll come.”
Mr. Koyasu thought this over for a while, and suddenly raised his head as if remembering something. “By the way, have you ever read the Bible?”
“The Bible? The Christian Bible?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“No, I haven’t really. I’m not a Christian.”
“Neither am I, but I enjoy reading it, apart from any faith. Since I was young, I’ve liked to read parts of it, and it’s become a habit. It’s an intriguing book, and I’ve learned and felt many things from reading it. In the Psalms there are these words: ‘People are like a breath; their days are like a fleeting shadow.’ ”
Mr. Koyasu stopped, grabbed the knob, opened the door of the stove, and rearranged the logs with fire tongs. And slowly repeated his words, as if telling himself.
“ ‘People are like a breath; their days are like a fleeting shadow.’ Do you understand that? Human beings are as insubstantial as an exhaled breath, and what they do in their lives is but a moving shadow. Well, these words really got to me when I was younger, but it was only after I died, and became what I am now, that I truly understood them. It’s true, we humans are but a breath, and I, dead now, don’t even have a shadow anymore.”
I looked at him, without saying a word.
“You’re still alive,” he said, “so cherish your life. Since you still have a dark shadow with you.”
Mr. Koyasu stood up, put on his soft beret, and wrapped his scarf around his neck.
“Well, I’d best be going. It’s about time for me to disappear. Let’s meet again before long.”
As he left the room I called out.
“Mr. Koyasu—in the place I mentioned, the town where no one had shadows—I worked like I do now, in a library. In a small library with a woodstove just like this one.”
Mr. Koyasu glanced back at me and nodded once to show he’d heard. But he gave no comment. He was silent, with just the one nod. He walked up the stairs and left the room, closing the door behind him.
I thought I heard footsteps retreating down the corridor, but I might have been imagining it. Maybe I really heard nothing. If I did actually hear footsteps, they must have been very subdued.
After Mr. Koyasu left, I stayed for a while, alone in that subterranean room. Once he was gone, I felt assailed by a strong doubt—maybe the whole idea that he had been here was an illusion? Maybe I’d been alone the whole time, lost in aimless thoughts? But this was no illusion, no fantasy. Proof was in the two empty teacups on top of the desk—one of them mine, one of them Mr. Koyasu’s (or his ghost, or his consciousness with a temporary body).
I let out a sigh, rested both hands on the desk, closed my eyes, and listened to the sound of time passing. Though of course I couldn’t hear that sound. All I heard was a log crumbling inside the stove.