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
