dumped them in a garbage bag that he tied closed with string, then put this bag inside another that he also tied up tight. This he put inside a thick cloth bag he found in the closet.
Completely drained, he squatted on the floor, his shoulders heaving as he took deep breaths. His hands were shaking. He wanted to say something, but couldn't form the words. 'You did a good job, Hoshino,' he managed to say a few moments later.
With all the noise he'd made attacking that white creature and flipping the stone over, he was worried that people in the apartment building had woken up and were even now dialing 911. Fortunately, nothing happened. No police sirens, no one pounding on the door. The last thing he needed was for the police to come barging in.
Hoshino knew the bits and pieces of the white thing stuffed tightly in the bags weren't about to come back to life. There's no place left for them to go, he thought. But it was a good idea just to make sure, so he decided that as soon as it was light he'd go to the beach and burn them all up. Turn them into ash.
And once that was over he'd head back to Nagoya. Back home.
It was nearly four by this time, and getting light out. Time to get going. Hoshino stuffed his clothes into his bag, including-just to be on the safe side-his sunglasses and Chunichi Dragons ball cap. Getting snagged by the police before he could finish would mess up the whole thing. He took along a bottle of cooking oil to use to light the fire. He remembered his CD of the Archduke Trio and tossed it in his bag as well.
Finally, he went into the room where Nakata lay in bed. The AC was still on full blast, and the room was freezing. 'Hey there, Mr. Nakata,' he said, 'I'm about ready to take off. Sorry, but I can't stay here forever. I'll call the cops from the station so they can come take care of your body. We'll just have to leave the rest up to some kind patrolmen, okay? We'll never see each other again, but I'll never forget you. Even if I tried to, I don't think I could.'
With a loud rattle the air conditioner shut off.
'You know what, Gramps?' he went on. 'I think that whenever something happens in the future I'll always wonder-What would Mr. Nakata say about this? What would Mr. Nakata do? I'll always have someone I can turn to. And that's kind of a big deal, if you think about it. It's like part of you will always live inside me. Not that I'm the best container you could find, but better than nothing, huh?'
But the person he was addressing was nothing more than a shell of Mr. Nakata. The most important part of him had long since left for another place. And Hoshino understood this.
'Hey there,' he said to the stone, and reached out to touch its surface. It was back to being just an ordinary stone, cool and rough to the touch. 'I'm heading out. Going back home to Nagoya. I'll have to let the cops take care of you too. I know I should take you back to the shrine where you came from, but my memory isn't so good and I don't have any idea which shrine it is. You'll have to forgive me. Don't put a curse on me or anything, okay? I only did what Colonel Sanders told me to. So if you're gonna put a curse on anybody, he's your guy. Anyhow, I'm happy I could meet you. I'll never forget you, either.'
Hoshino put on his thick-soled Nike sneakers and walked out of the apartment, leaving the door unlocked. In one hand he held his bag with all his things, in the other the bag with that white thing's corpse.
'Gentlemen,' he said, gazing up at the dawn rising in the east, 'it's time to light my fire!'
Chapter 49
Just after nine the next morning, I hear the sound of a car approaching and go outside. It's a small four- wheel-drive Datsun truck, the kind with massive tires and the body jacked up high. It looks like it hasn't been washed in at least a half a year. In the bed are two long, well-used surfboards. The truck grinds to a stop in front of the cabin. When the engine cuts off silence returns. The door opens and a tall young man climbs out, wearing an oversize white T-shirt, an oil-stained No Fear shirt, khaki shorts, and sneakers that have seen better days. The guy looks around thirty, with wide shoulders. He's tanned all over and has three days' worth of stubble on his face. His hair's long enough to hide his ears. I'm guessing this must be Oshima's older brother, the one who runs a surf shop in Kochi.
'Hey,' he says.
'Morning,' I reply.
He sticks out his hand, and we shake hands on the porch. He has a strong grip. I guessed right. He does turn out to be Oshima's older brother.
'Everybody calls me Sada,' he tells me. He talks slowly, choosing his words deliberately, like he's in no hurry. Like he has all the time in the world. 'I got a call from Takamatsu to come pick you up and take you back,' he explains. 'Sounds like some urgent business came up.'
'Urgent business?'
'Yeah. I don't know what, though.'
'Sorry you had to go to all this trouble,' I tell him.
'No need to apologize,' he says. 'Can you get ready to leave soon?'
'Give me five minutes.'
While I'm stuffing my things in my backpack, he helps me close up the place, whistling all the while. He shuts the window, pulls the curtains, checks that the gas is off, gathers up the remaining food, does a quick scrub of the sink. I can tell from watching him that he feels like the cabin's an extension of himself.
'Seems like my brother likes you,' Sada says. 'He doesn't like all that many people. He's sort of a difficult person.'
'He's been really kind to me.'
Sada nods. 'He can be pretty nice when he wants to be.'
I climb into the passenger seat of the truck and toss my backpack at my feet.
Sada turns on the ignition, shifts into gear, leans out the window to check out the cabin one more time, then steps on the gas. 'This cabin is one of the few things the two of us share as brothers,' he says as he expertly maneuvers down the mountain road. 'When the mood hits us, we sometimes come here and spend a few days alone.' He mulls this over for a while, then goes on. 'This was always an important place for the two of us, and still is. It's like there's a power here that recharges us. A quiet sort of power. You know what I mean?'
'I think so,' I tell him.
'My brother said you would,' Sada says. 'People that don't get it never will.'
The faded cloth seats are covered with white dog hair. The dog smell mixes with that of the sea, plus the scent of surfboard wax and cigarettes. The knob for the AC is broken off. The ashtray's full of butts, the side pocket stuffed full of random cassette tapes, minus their boxes.
'I went into the woods a few times,' I say.
'Deep in there?'
'Yes,' I reply. 'Oshima warned me not to.'
'But you went in anyway.'
'Yeah,' I say.
'I did the same once. Must be like ten years ago.' He's silent for a time, concentrating on his driving. We're on a long curve, the thick tires spraying pebbles as we go. Every so often there're crows beside the road. They don't try to fly away, just watch intently, with curious eyes, as we pass by.
'Did you run across the soldiers?' Sada asks as casually as if he'd asked me what time it was.
'You mean those two soldiers?'
'Right,' Sada responds, glancing at me. 'You went in that far, huh?'
'Yeah, I did,' I reply.
His hands lightly gripping the wheel as he maneuvers it, he doesn't respond, and his expression doesn't tell me anything.
'Sada?' I ask.
'Hm?' he says.
'When you met those soldiers ten years ago, what did you do?'
'What did I do when I met those soldiers?' he repeats.
I nod and wait for his answer.
