9

The following week, the cold air retreated and the warm days returned for a time. At midday, it felt hot wearing a jacket.

I tried to find the book that Tomo wanted, The Golden Dream, just as I had promised Takano.

I asked my uncle about it first, since that seemed the surest way to find any book.

But my uncle said he’d never seen or even heard of the book. I’d taken it for granted that he, of all people, would know it if it was an old Japanese book, but my assumption was totally wrong. And to make things worse, he barely showed any interest, which was so unlike him. Normally, my uncle would’ve gotten all worked up, searched until he found it. Lately, my uncle had seemed odd (he was odd before, of course, but not in this way). It was like he was profoundly tired. When I got worried and asked him if he was all right, he turned it around and asked me what I was talking about, so I figured there wasn’t much to worry about.

With no other options, I made the rounds of the secondhand bookshops on the way home from work, keeping up my search for the book. Takano had assumed it was some kind of novel, but if my uncle didn’t know it there was a decent chance that was wrong too, so I even popped into some shops that specialized in illustrated books.

In a mountain of thousands of old books, I was searching for a single volume, with only the slightest clue to go on. I found it surprisingly fun—like a treasure hunt. I wanted to find it for Takano, but I had also become deeply curious about the book itself. What kind of a book would Tomo want so badly? Was it funny? Maybe it was the kind of book that could change your whole perspective on life? I’d been feeling uneasy about things with Wada since last week, which only made me want a book like that even more. But the search proved to be more arduous than expected. As I made the rounds, not only could I not find the book, I couldn’t even find a person who knew of its existence. And when I asked, Wada said he didn’t know it either. It seemed the book that Tomo wanted to find was only for the true diehards.

But the harder it was to find the book, the more my interest in it grew.

My next step was to ask my uncle to get me into the auction being held at the Rare Book Hall in Jimbocho.

When you run a secondhand bookshop, the auction is your best opportunity to acquire books in large quantities. You could even say that it’s nearly impossible to keep a bookshop going if you don’t attend the auctions regularly. So, of course, all the bookshop owners of Jimbocho would be at the auction in the Rare Book Hall. It was easy to gather information there, and you could find a rare book without having to walk to all the shops.

To be honest though, the auctions were not exactly my cup of tea. While it was a relatively friendly scene because I knew so many people, there was a solemnity in the air that I found stressful.

I knew I would be out of place once the auction began in earnest. So, during the initial open period, meant to allow people to check out the items on auction, I stayed at my uncle’s side and looked around for the book. This was the only occasion when my uncle seemed to concentrate, taking notes as he looked over the items. It didn’t seem right to get in his way, so I kept my mouth shut and studied all the titles of the books in front of me. In the end, I didn’t find what I was looking for. When I asked the bookshop owners I knew, they all said they’d never heard of the book.

I snuck out of the venue and stood in the hallway, grumbling to myself. If I couldn’t find the book in this neighborhood after this much searching, where on earth would I ever find it? Of course, it was conceivable I’d missed it, but Takano had been checking the shops diligently too, and had been searching for more information online. But for all that, he hadn’t turned up anything worthwhile.

Talking it over with Takano at the Saveur, we came to the conclusion that our best bet was to try the Book Festival.

Held from the end of October to the beginning of November, the Book Festival was Jimbocho’s biggest event of the year.

For this week alone, this neighborhood, where time always seemed to go by so peacefully, was completely transformed. Carts of used books and rows of bookshelves lined the streets, and they even set out stands selling yakisoba and candy-covered fruit. Lots of people came, all looking for books. Once this time of year came around, I couldn’t help but feel excited. It made me happy to see that so many people loved books. It often seemed as if only a limited number of people thought of Jimbocho as a crucial part of their lives, but in fact, there were all these people who loved it. I admit I found it all deeply moving.

Naturally, the Morisaki Bookshop was part of the festival every year. As a small shop, we did things differently from the bigger stores on the avenue. My uncle would run a sale on the books on the carts that fit snugly in front of the shop, and he set up a bargain corner inside. This year, Momoko had taken care of all the preparations, so there didn’t seem to be much I could do to help. My uncle, who loved a good festival, was in such a frenzy this time of year that he could barely think about business, but this time he said, “Trust me, I’ve got it all under control.”

Because of work I was only able to go to the festival for a single day. On that day alone, I was able to do my part, helping out at the shop from the morning on. Inside, we could hear the lively music coming from the main avenue, where the event booths were set up. From the other direction, the smell of sweet sauces and the aroma of grilled meat drifted to us on the breeze from Sakura Street, where the food stands were lined up.

At lunch, the three of us stood out front eating okonomiyaki and sausages my uncle had bought at the food stands. “This is so good,” my uncle said, in ecstasy.

“This kind of food is more about the feeling,” Momoko remarked coolly. “The taste is really nothing special.”

Later on, after the sun had gone down, I joined Takano, who was now finished with work, and we wandered around searching for The Golden Dream. We hurried through the throngs of people, checking literally all the shops from one end of the street to the other. As Takano walked beside me, he turned and mumbled sadly, “When we did this three years ago, Tomoko was with us.”

It was true: Tomo had been with us then. And now she had blocked his number. I guess you could say that for Takano that day was The Golden Dream itself.

Given the limited time and the large number of shops, it didn’t seem possible to go to all of them, so we decided midway to divide them between us and meet up again in front of the Morisaki Bookshop in an hour. In the end, my search was fruitless. Takano’s too. As soon as I saw the look on his face, I knew there was no point in even asking.

That evening, after the festival had come to an end, Takano and I went out for curry with my aunt and uncle.

“So, you couldn’t find it. I guess that’s how it goes,” Momoko said as she devoured her beef curry, ignoring the fact that Takano didn’t seem to have an appetite.

“It’s not a book I know. I apologize I couldn’t be more helpful,” my uncle said, feeling sorry for Takano. My uncle, of course, had ordered his curry mild.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Takano said. He was shaking his head briskly, yet it was obvious from the way he let his shoulders droop that he was heartbroken.

I was exhausted, and I was beginning to wonder if there was any point in continuing our search. Wouldn’t it be better to ask Tomo instead, rather than taking such a roundabout way? We had no definite proof that Tomo didn’t already have the book to begin with. But Takano had done his best, even if it was in vain. And that was one of his finer qualities, so I decided not to push him any further.

“It’s a shame we didn’t find it, but the fact that you looked for it will make Tomo happy.”

“That’s right. It’s what you did that matters.”

“You think so?”

“Besides, you can’t expect to seduce a girl with a single book,” Momoko said.

Takano leaned across the table and protested frantically. “That wasn’t my intention at all. Seduce her? The thought never even crossed my mind.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“It is,” I said, coming to Takano’s defense. “Besides, Takano’s texts are getting blocked. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“You mean she dislikes you that much? That’s tragic,” Momoko said, turning her face to the heavens dramatically. What she said sounded like a death sentence to Takano.

“Hey, that’s enough out of you,” my uncle scolded.

“Takako . . .” For some reason, Takano was looking at me bitterly.

“Oh, sorry, that was thoughtless of me,” I said and immediately covered my mouth with both hands. But it was too late. The part about his number being blocked was supposed to be a secret.

“You’ve got to be careful about this one. She has a pretty big mouth,” Momoko said.

“Nah,” my uncle said. “Takako’s tight-lipped about secrets, just like she’s tight about money.”

Takano turned to me and bowed his head, ignoring the nonsense coming from my aunt and uncle. “Anyway, I apologize for bringing you into this, Takako.”

“I told you there’s nothing to apologize for. I enjoyed it. It was fun looking around.”

“I’m happy to hear that, but I still owe you an apology.”

“I just told you that you really don’t. But if Tomo is okay with it, I’ll see if I can invite you to her birthday party,” I said.

Despite how dejected he felt, Takano was sweet to be so considerate. That’s the kind of person he was. And I believe that’s why the people around him all loved him. In my heart, I thought, wouldn’t it be nice if we brought Tomo and him together for a bit . . .

That Sunday, I paid a visit to Tomo’s home in Nezu. It was my first time there. She didn’t work on the weekend, so I stopped by on my way home from the office. Her apartment was less than five minutes from the train station, a corner unit on the second floor of a two-story building only for women. I pressed the intercom button, holding the cake I’d bought as a gift at a shop near the station. Tomo came out right away with a smile on her face and welcomed me in.

Tomo’s apartment was not all that different from what I had imagined: simple, clean, and stylish. The warm-toned curtains, furniture, and bedspread were all color-coordinated. It was the apartment of a young woman of refined taste. Except for one thing: the bookshelves were enormous. They went all the way up to the ceiling. I had the urge to ask if she had ordered them from a trade supplier. Of course, they were tightly packed with books with no space left to spare. It looked like she was ready to open her own little bookshop. When you visit a friend’s place, it’s normal to take an interest in the contents of their bookshelves. While Tomo made us tea, I took the liberty of thoroughly examining the contents of those enormous bookshelves. It was mostly old Japanese novels, but there were also books by foreign writers like Baudelaire and Rodenbach, and fantasy series like The Lord of the Rings and The Earthsea Cycle. (As far I could tell, the book Takano and I had been looking for wasn’t there.)

“It seems like it must’ve been hard to move in,” I said, looking over the bookshelves.

Tomo understood what I meant. “Oh, absolutely!” she said. “These books alone filled ten cardboard boxes. I’m trying not to get any more books now. But what do you do, Takako, to organize your books or pack them up when you move?”

“I don’t have that many books yet. I don’t worry much about holding on to them, so I tend to gather them up and sell them.”

“I see.” Tomo fell quiet. “I’d better start selling more, or I’ll be in trouble. But once I like a book, I just can’t let go of it.”

After tea, while we ate the elaborate Southeast Asian dinner that Tomo had prepared, I said that since her twenty-sixth birthday was coming up so soon, we should go out to dinner again to celebrate. Surprisingly she had almost nothing planned for her birthday, so it came together quite quickly.

“I wonder if we should invite Takano,” I asked, trying to take advantage of this moment in the conversation.

At the sound of his name, Tomo, who was reaching with her chopsticks to pick up a fresh spring roll, suddenly froze. She turned and looked at me with a pained expression on her face. “Did you say Takano?”

“Yeah, is that a bad idea?”

“It’s not a bad idea, it’s just . . .” Tomo said hesitantly. I could tell by the tone of her voice how troubled she was, and I hesitated to go any further. The situation might be more serious than I’d thought. But for Takano’s sake, I wanted to find out what he’d done wrong. Speaking quickly, I told her what I’d heard from Takano and politely asked if something had happened.

“But look,” Tomo said, hesitating even more. “I’d quit my job at the coffee shop, and I didn’t expect we’d be in touch after that.”

It was hard to believe Tomo would block his number for such a trivial reason. She and Takano had gotten along so well that I thought it might develop into a romantic relationship. Unless Takano had committed some unpardonable mistake, there was no way to explain it.

“Did he, by any chance, do something that upset you?”

“Absolutely not,” Tomo said, looking up in surprise. That was the one thing she flatly denied. And I was relieved to hear it. At some point, I had started feeling like Takano’s mother.

“Nothing like that happened. Takano is really purehearted. I admire that. There’s nothing wrong with him. There’s something wrong with me,” Tomo said. She cast her gaze downward, pursing her lips so tightly they formed a straight line. I saw tears welling up in her eyes, and I felt myself trembling all over.

“That’s not true, Tomo. There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s not your fault if you don’t feel the same as Takano.”

I realized I’d let slip something I shouldn’t have. Takano had never said a word to her about how he loved her.

“I’m sorry, I, um . . .”

“It’s okay. I was well aware of the fact that he cared for me. I sensed it somehow that day the three of us went to the Book Festival such a long time ago. But even though I knew, I always pretended not to notice. I took advantage of the fact that Takano never said anything, and I feigned ignorance, so we stayed friends.”

“That’s why I don’t think you did anything wrong.”

“That’s not true. There’s something wrong with me. The moment I receive that kind of attention from a member of the opposite sex, I suddenly become frightened, and I try to close myself off. I’m frightened that if I reciprocate I won’t be able to handle it. I know it’s crazy, but I can’t help it.”

Tomo no longer paid any attention to the food on the table. She fell silent and just kept looking down. The tears that had been welling up in her eyes now seemed about to fall. I felt as if I had accidentally driven her to this point. My chest hurt just looking at her. The room became so silent we could hear the faint buzz of the fluorescent light on the ceiling.

I was unsure whether I could ask anything more. Perhaps sensing this, Tomo said, “Can we talk just a little bit more? I’m not sure I can put it into words well, but I want to tell you.”

“Shall I make us some tea?” I said cheerfully, in an effort to keep her from getting more depressed. “You’ll feel a little better with something warm to drink.”

“Oh, I . . .”

Tomo started to get up, but I stopped her and went into the kitchen, where I quickly cleaned the teapot and cups we’d just used, and made us a fresh pot of black tea.

“Thank you,” Tomo said, accepting her cup, and she slowly brought it to her lips. “There’s nothing wrong with Takano. There’s something wrong with me.” She repeated the same words she’d said a moment ago, sounding a little calmer. “I told you before about how I started reading.”

“Um, yeah, you said it was your sister’s influence.”

“That’s right. I had a sister who was five years older. From when I was little, all I did was imitate her, not just with books, with everything. Unlike me, my sister was smart and beautiful. She was the kind of person who could do anything. She had a little bit of a wild temper, but she was always kind to me.” Tomo closed her eyes for a moment, as if she were recalling her memories of that time in her life. Then she started to speak again. “My sister had a boyfriend she went out with from when they were in high school. He was a very quiet person, the opposite of my sister. To tell the truth, it was because of his influence that my sister started to read books. And then I let myself be influenced so much that I started to love him the way she did. He was my first love. Still, I was in grade school, and I didn’t recognize it. I just played with them a lot. I was in middle school when I became aware of it. But anyone could see how well suited they were for each other, and for a long time I never even considered uttering a word about what I felt. I was happy enough that they were there, and that sometimes they would let me into their little world.”

Tomo took a sip of tea and glanced at me, as if to check my reaction. I nodded silently, as if to say, I’m listening, and she smiled sadly in response.

“Right after I turned seventeen, my sister died in an accident. The driver of the bus she always took to the university fell asleep and collided head-on with an oncoming car.”

Tomo pursed her lips and closed her eyes, like she was mourning the death of her sister. I started to say something, but she shook her head and cut me off. “When my sister died, I was so sad that I thought I would die too. It really felt like my chest would burst. But after a while, I noticed that somewhere in my heart I was feeling another emotion. It was hope, hope that after what happened, he might turn his attention to me. It was such an ugly, ugly, sinister feeling.”

“But Tomo . . .”

Tomo was still looking down, her gaze fixed to a point on the floor. Like she was staring into a vast, black ocean beneath her. No matter how many times I turned it over in my mind, I couldn’t find the right words to say, something that might weaken the hold this had over her.

“I couldn’t forgive myself for feeling that way. Nothing anyone tried to tell me could change that. That in the midst of all the sadness I felt after losing the sister I loved so much, I could still . . .” At that point, Tomo abruptly stopped talking and looked up. “I’m sorry. It’s such a depressing story,” she said apologetically.

I kept shaking my head. “And your sister’s boyfriend, how did he . . .”

“I haven’t seen him at all since her funeral. He’s a friend of the family, and I hear he still visits my parents sometimes. Even after he got a new girlfriend, he still comes. After all this time. And they say he wants to see me. But I’ll never see him again as long as I live. I don’t ever want to remember what I felt then. And that goes for whoever else I might feel that way about.”

“So when you see that someone like Takano has feelings for you . . .”

“I get frightened and I run away. I want to scream at him to stop it. I’m not the kind of person who can be loved. I try to live my life guarding against the possibility of anyone falling in love with me. But Takano is always so kind and pure. I’m afraid I let myself take advantage of that a little. And because of that, I ended up hurting his feelings. I’m the worst. I need to apologize to him when I see him.”

“I don’t know, Tomo. Doesn’t it make you sad to live like that?”

“When I’m sad, I read. I can go on reading for hours. Reading quiets the turmoil I feel inside and brings me peace. Because when I’m immersed in the world of a book, no one can get hurt,” Tomo said and smiled. But her smile made her look sadder than I’d ever seen her before. Or maybe after I’d made up my mind early on that she was this cheerful, good-natured girl, I never once thought to look at what lay beneath the surface.

But now that I knew, was there something I could say that could thaw her frozen heart?

In reality, after she smiled for me and said, “Thank you for listening. I feel a little better,” I couldn’t say anything in response. It was too painful to realize that this was the reason she read so much. All I could do was remember the pain that seemed to squeeze itself deep inside my chest.

It was a drizzly evening, two days after I went to Tomo’s place. I was on my way home after dropping by the Morisaki Bookshop. Wada and I didn’t have any plans to meet, so I stopped at my second-favorite coffee shop, Kissaku. What Tomo had told me was still swirling around inside me, and I was in a dark mood. I didn’t feel like going straight home.

After idling away almost an hour there, I decided it was time to go, so I opened my umbrella and started walking on the avenue heading to Jimbocho Station when the figure of a man walking a little ahead of me caught my eye. Seeing him from behind in that familiar jacket . . . it was Wada, without a doubt. He must be on his way home after work.

I jogged after him, and I was about to call his name, when Wada stopped right in front of a drugstore at the traffic light. And then a young woman came rushing over and stood in front of him. It looked as if they’d planned to meet each other there.

I only caught a glimpse of her face in profile underneath her red umbrella, but I knew right away who it was. Without a doubt, it was the woman Wada went out with before me. The way she was dressed, the way she looked—she hadn’t changed at all from the last time I saw her at the Morisaki Bookshop.

The two of them seemed to be discussing something. Wada looked at her and nodded. I promptly hid behind the sign of a restaurant. I had no idea why I felt the need to hide, but that’s what I found myself doing. And while I was hiding, the two of them walked away, side by side.

What was I doing? I asked myself that question as I walked behind them, leaving a little distance between us. Am I just going to follow them? I thought it over. It was true though. If I wasn’t tailing them, then what could I call what I was doing? In the light rain, Yasukuni Street was so full of men and women holding umbrellas on their way home from work that there was no reason to believe Wada and his ex would notice me. The two of them kept walking along the road, paused for a moment, and then walked into a Doutor coffee shop like it was a perfectly appropriate thing to do.

I walked back and forth in front of the entrance for a while, thinking they might come out soon. As I wandered aimlessly in front of the coffee shop, salarymen passed by on their way home from work, casting sidelong glances at me like I was in their way.

I might have stayed for ten minutes. In my head, I felt calm, but I was also terribly confused. Looking around, I saw the rain had mostly stopped. The people walking down the street had closed their umbrellas.

I could hear myself muttering as I put away my umbrella. Then I trudged wearily back to the station.