Kafka on the Shore (64 page)

That's the memory.

"I want you to have that painting with you forever," Miss Saeki says. She stands up, goes to the window, and looks outside. The sun's still high in the sky. The bee's still asleep. Miss Saeki holds up a hand to shield her eyes and looks at something far off, then turns to face me. "You have to go," she says.

I go over to her. Her ear brushes against my neck, the earring hard against my skin. I rest both palms on her back like I'm deciphering some sign there. Her hair brushes my cheek. She holds me tight, her fingers digging hard into my back. Fingers clinging to the wall that's time. The smell of the sea, the sound of waves breaking on the shore. Someone calling my name from far, far away.

"Are you my mother?" I'm finally able to ask.

"You already know the answer to that," Miss Saeki says.

She's right—I do know the answer. But neither one of us can put it into words. Putting it into words will destroy any meaning.

"A long time ago I abandoned someone I shouldn't have," she says. "Someone I loved more than anything else. I was afraid someday I'd lose this person. So I had to let go myself. If he was going to be stolen away from me, or I was going to lose him by accident, I decided it was better to discard him myself. Of course I felt anger that didn't fade, that was part of it. But the whole thing was a huge mistake. It was someone I should never have abandoned."

I listen in silence.

"You were discarded by the one person who never should have done that," Miss Saeki says. "Kafka—do you forgive me?"

"Do I have the right to?"

She looks at my shoulder and nods several times. "As long as anger and fear don't prevent you."

"Miss Saeki, if I really do have the right to, then yes—I do forgive you," I tell her.

Mother, you say. I forgive you. And with those words, audibly, the frozen part of your heart crumbles.

Silently, she lets go of me. She takes the hairpin out of her hair and without a moment's hesitation stabs the sharp tip into the inner flesh of her left arm, hard. With her right hand she presses down tightly on a vein, and blood begins to seep out. The first drop plops audibly to the floor. Without a word she holds her arm out toward me.

Another drop of blood falls to the floor.

I bend over and put my lips on the small wound, lick her blood with my tongue, close my eyes, and savor the taste. I hold the blood in my mouth and slowly swallow it.

Her blood goes down, deep in my throat. It's quietly absorbed by the dry outer layer of my heart. Only now do I understand how much I've wanted that blood. My mind is someplace far away, though my body is still right here—just like a living spirit. I feel like sucking down every last drop of blood from her, but I can't. I take my lips off her arm and look into her face.

"Farewell, Kafka Tamura," Miss Saeki says. "Go back to where you belong, and live."

"Miss Saeki?" I ask.

"Yes?"

"I don't know what it means to live."

She lets me go and looks up at me. She reaches out and touches my lips. "Look at the painting," she says quietly. "Keep looking at the painting, just like I did."

And she leaves. She opens the door and, without glancing back, steps outside and closes the door. I stand at the window and watch her go. Quickly she vanishes in the shadow of a building. Hands resting on the sill, I gaze for the longest time at where she disappeared. Maybe she forgot to say something and will come back. But she never does.

All that's left is an absence, like a hollow.

The dozing bee wakes up and buzzes around me for a while. Then, as if finally remembering what it's supposed to be doing, it flies out the open window. The sun shines down. I go back to the table and sit down. Her cup is sitting there, with a bit of tea left in it. I leave it where it is, without touching it. The cup looks like a metaphor. A metaphor of memories that, before long, will be lost.

I take off my shirt and change back into my sweaty, smelly T-shirt. I put the dead watch back on my left wrist. Then I put the ball cap Oshima gave me on backward, and the pair of sky blue sunglasses. Finally I tug on my long-sleeved shirt. I walk into the kitchen and drink a glass of tap water, put the glass in the sink, and take a final look around the room. At the dining table, the chairs. The chair the girl and Miss Saeki sat on.

The teacup on top of the table. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. You already know the answer to that.

I open the door, go outside, and close the door. I walk down the porch steps, my shadow falling distinct and clear on the ground. It looks like it's clinging to my feet. The sun's still high in the sky.

At the entrance to the forest the two soldiers are leaning against a tree trunk like they've been waiting for me. When they see me they don't ask a single question. It's as if they already know what I'm thinking. Their rifles are slung over their shoulders.

The tall soldier is chewing on a stalk of grass. "The entrance is still open," he says.

"At least it was when I checked a minute ago."

"You don't mind if we keep the same pace as before?" the brawny one asks. "You can keep up?"

"No problem. I can keep up."

"It'll be a problem, though, if we get there and the entrance is already shut," the tall one comments.

"Then you're stuck here," his companion adds.

"I know," I say.

"No regrets at having to leave?" the tall one asks.

"None."

"Then let's get going."

"Better not look behind you," the brawny one says.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," the tall one says.

And once again I set off through the forest.

Once, as we're hurrying up a slope, I do glance back. The soldiers warned me not to, but I couldn't help it. This is the last spot you can see the town from. Beyond it we'll be cut off by a wall of trees, and that world will vanish from my sight forever.

There still isn't a soul on the street. A beautiful stream runs through the hollow, small buildings line the street, the electric poles casting dark shadows on the ground. For a moment I'm frozen to the spot. I have to go back, no matter what. I could at least stay there until evening, when the young girl with the canvas bag will visit me. If you need me, I'll be there. I get a hot lump in my chest and a powerful magnet's pulling me back toward the town. My feet are buried in lead and won't budge. If I go on I'll never see her again. I come to a halt. I've lost all sense of time. I want to call out to the soldiers in front of me, I'm not going back, I'm staying. But no voice comes out. Words have no life in them.

I'm caught between one void and another. I have no idea what's right, what's wrong. I don't even know what I want anymore. I'm standing alone in the middle of a horrific sandstorm. I can't move, and can't even see my fingertips anymore. Sand as white as pulverized bones wraps me in its grip. But I hear her—Miss Saeki—speaking to me. "No matter what, you have to go back," she says decisively. "It's what I want. For you to be there."

The spell is broken, and I'm in one piece again. Warm blood returns to my body.

The blood she gave me, the last drops of blood she had. The next instant I'm facing forward and following the soldiers. I turn a corner and that little world in the hills vanishes, swallowed up in dreams. Now I just focus on making it through the forest without getting lost. Not wandering from the path. That's what's important now, what I have to do.

The entrance is still open. There's still time until evening. I thank the two soldiers.

They lay down their rifles and, like before, sit down on the large flat rock. The tall soldier's still chewing on a bit of grass. They're not out of breath at all after our breathless rush through the woods.

"Don't forget what I told you about bayonets," the tall soldier says. "When you stab the enemy, you've got to twist and slash, to cut his guts open. Otherwise he'll do it to you. That's the way the world is outside."

"That's not all there is, though," the brawny one says.

"No, of course not," the tall one replies, and clears his throat. "I'm just talking about the dark side of things."

"It's also real hard to tell right from wrong," the brawny one says.

"But it's something you've got to do," the tall one adds.

"Most likely," the brawny one says.

"One more thing," the tall one says. "Once you leave here, don't ever look back until you reach your destination. Not even once, do you understand?"

"This is important," the brawny one adds.

"Somehow you made it through back there," the tall one says, "but this time it's serious. Until you get to where you're going, don't ever look back."

"Ever," the brawny one says.

"I understand," I tell them. I thank them again and say good-bye.

The two of them come to attention and salute. I'll never see them again. I know that. And they know that. And knowing this, we say farewell.

I don't recall much of how I got back to Oshima's cabin after leaving the soldiers.

As I made my way through the thick forest my mind must have been elsewhere.

Amazingly, I didn't get lost. I have a vague memory of spotting the daypack I'd thrown away and, without thinking, picking it up. Same with the compass, the hatchet, the can of spray paint. I remember seeing the yellow marks I'd sprayed on tree trunks, like scales left behind by some giant moth.

I stand in the clearing in front of the cabin and gaze up at the sky. The world around me is suddenly filled with brilliant sounds—birds chirping, water gurgling down the stream, wind rustling the leaves. All faint, but to me it's like corks have been pulled from my ears and now everything sounds so alive, so warm, so close. Everything's mixed together, but still I can make out each individual sound. I look down at the watch on my wrist, and it's working again. Digital numbers flash on the green screen, changing each minute like nothing had ever happened. It's 4:16.

I go into the cabin and lie down on the bed in my clothes. I'm exhausted. I lie there on my back and close my eyes. A bee is resting above the window. The girl's arms glisten in the sunlight like porcelain. "An example," she says.

"Look at the painting," Miss Saeki says. "Just like I did."

White sands of time slip through the girl's slim fingers. Waves crash softly against the shore. They rise up, fall, and break. Rise up, fall, and break. And my consciousness is sucked into a dim, dark corridor.

''Gimme a break," Hoshino repeated.

''Nothing's about to break here, Mr. Hoshino," the black cat said wearily. The cat had a large face and looked old. "I figured you were bored all by yourself. Talking to a stone all day."

"But how can you speak human language?"

"I can't."

"I don't get it. How are we able to carry on a conversation like this? A human and a cat?"

"We're on the border of this world, speaking a common language. That's all."

Hoshino gave this some thought. "The border of the world? A common language?"

"It's all right if you don't understand. I could explain, but it's a long story," the cat said, giving a couple of short, dismissive flips of its tail.

"Wait a sec!" Hoshino said. "You're Colonel Sanders, aren't you?"

"Colonel who?" the cat said sullenly. "I don't know who you're talking about. I'm me, and nobody else. Just your friendly neighborhood cat."

"Do you have a name?"

"Sure I do."

"What is it?"

"Toro," the cat replied hesitantly.

"Toro?" Hoshino repeated. "Like the real expensive part of tuna, you mean?"

"Correct," the cat replied. "The local sushi chef owns me. They have a dog, too. They call him Tekka. Tuna Roll."

"Do you know my name, then?"

"You're pretty famous, Mr. Hoshino," Toro replied, and smiled.

Hoshino had never seen a cat smile before. The smile quickly faded, though, and the cat went back to its usual docile expression.

"Cats know everything," Toro said. "I know that Mr. Nakata died yesterday, and that there's a valuable stone over there. I've lived a long life and know everything that's happened around here."

"Hmm," Hoshino murmured, impressed. "Hey, instead of us just shooting the breeze out here, why don't you come inside, Toro?"

Lying on the railing, the cat shook its head. "No, I'm fine here. I wouldn't be able to relax inside. Besides, it's a nice day out, so why don't we just talk here?"

"Fine by me," Hoshino said. "Say, are you hungry? I'm sure we have something to eat."

Again the cat shook his head. "Thanks, but I'm all set for food. In fact, keeping my weight down's more of a problem. If your owner runs a sushi shop, you tend to have a bit of a cholesterol problem. Jumping up and down's not easy when you're carrying some excess pounds."

"Well, tell me then, Toro, is there some reason you're here?"

"There is," the black cat said. "I thought you might be having a hard time dealing with that stone all alone."

"You got that right. Definitely. I'm in kind of a bind here."

"I thought I'd lend you a hand."

"That would be great," Hoshino said. "Take a paws in your schedule, huh?"

"The stone's the problem," Toro said, shaking his head to get rid of a buzzing fly.

"Once you get the stone back the way it belongs, your job's over. You can go wherever you want after that. Do I have that right?"

"Yup, you got it. Once I get the stone closed that's all she wrote. Like Mr. Nakata said, once you open something up you got to close it. That's the rule."

"That's why I thought I'd show you what to do."

"You know what I should do?" Hoshino asked, excited.

"Of course," the cat said. "What'd I tell you? Cats know everything. Not like dogs."

"So what should I do?"

"You have to kill it," the cat said soberly.

"Kill it?" Hoshino said.

"That's right. You've got to kill it."

"Who is this it you're talking about?"

"You'll know it when you see it," the black cat explained. "Until you actually see it, though, you won't understand what I mean. It doesn't have any real form to begin with. It changes shape, depending on the situation."