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"So Masakichi got his paws full of honey—way more hohan he could eat by himself—a it in a pail, and do-o-own the mountain he went, all the way to the town, to sell his honey. Masakichi was the all-time No. 1 honey bear.""Do bears have pails?" Sala asked.
"Masakichi just happeo have one," Junpei explained. "He found it lying by the road, and he figured it would e in handy sometime."
"And it did."
"It really did. So Masakichi went to the town and found a spot for himself in the square. He put up a sign: Deeelicious Honey. All Natural. One Cup ￥200. "
" bears t money?"
"Absolutely. Masakichi lived with people when he was just a cub, and they taught him how to talk and how to t money. Masakichi was a very special bear. And so the other bears, who werent so special, teo shun him."
"Shun him?"
"Yeah, theyd go, like, Hey, whats with this guy, ag so special? and keep away from him. Especially Tonkichi, the tough guy. He really hated Masakichi."
"Poor Masakichi!"
"Yeah, really. Meanwhile, the people would say, O.K., he knows how to t, and he talk and all, but when you get right down to it hes just a bear. So Masakichi didnt really belong to either world—the bear world or the people world."
"Didnt he have any friends?"
"Not a single friend. Bears dont go to school, you know, so theres no place for them to make friends."
"Do you have friends, Jun?" "Uncle Junpei" was too long for her, so Sala just called him Jun.
"Your daddy is my absolute bestest friend from a long, long time ago. And sos your mommy."
"Thats good, to have friends."
"It is good," Junpei said. "Youre right about that."
Junpei often made up stories for Sala before she went to bed. And whenever she didnt uand something she would ask him to explain. Junpei gave a lot of thought to his answers. Salas questions were often sharp and iing, and while he was thinking about them he could also e up with wists to the story he was telling.
Sayokht a glass of warm milk.
"Junpei is tellihe story of Masakichi the bear," Sala said. "Hes the all-time No. 1 honey bear, but he doesnt have any friends."
"Oh, really? Is he a big bear?" Sayoko asked.
Sala turo Junpei with an uneasy stare. "Is Masakichi big?"
"Not so big," Junpei said. "In fact, hes kind of on the small side. For a bear. Hes just about your size, Sala. And hes a very sweet-tempered little guy. When he listens to music, he doesnt listen to rock or punk or that kind of stuff. He likes to listen to Schubert, all by himself."
"He listens to music?" Sala asked. "Does he have a CD player or something?"
"He found a boom box lying on the ground one day. He picked it up and brought it home."
"How e all this stuff just happens to be lying around in the mountains?" Sala asked with a note of suspi.
"Well, its a very, very steep mountain, and the hikers get all faint and dizzy, and they throw away tons of stuff they dont need. Right there by the road, like, Oh, man, this pack is so heavy, I feel like Im gonna die! I dohis pail anymore. I dohis boom box anymore. "
"I know just how they feel," Sayoko said. "Sometimes you want to throw everything away."
"Not me," Sala said.
"Thats because youre young and full of energy, Sala," Junpei said. "Hurry and drink your milk so I tell you the rest of the story."
"O.K.," she said, ing her hands around the glass and drinking the warm milk with great care. Then she asked, "How asakichi doesnt make honey pies ahem? I think the people iown would like that better than just plain honey."
"An excellent point," Sayoko said with a smile. "His profits would be much greater that way."
"Plowing up new markets through value added," Junpei said. "This girl will be a real entrepreneur someday."
It was almost 2 A.M. by the time Sala went back to bed. Junpei and Sayoko waited for her to fall asleep, theo split a of beer at the kit table. Sayoko wasnt much of a drinker, and Junpei had to drive home.
"Sorry fing you out in the middle of the night," Sayoko said, "but I didnt know what else to do. Im totally exhausted, and youre the only one who calm her down. There was no way I was going to call Takatsuki."
Junpei nodded and took a swig of beer. "Dont worry about me," he said. "Im awake till the sun es up, and the roads are empty at this time of night. Its no big deal."
"You were w on a story?"
Junpei nodded.
"Hows it going?"
"Like always. I write em. They print em. Nobody reads em."
"I read them. All of them."
"Thanks. Youre a nice person," Junpei said. "But the short story is on its way out. Like the slide rule. Lets talk about Sala. Has she dohis before?"
Sayoko nodded.
"A lot?"
"Almost every night. Sometime after midnight, she gets these hysterical fits and jumps out of bed. And I t get her to st. Ive tried everything."
"Any idea whats wrong?"
Sayoko drank what was left of her beer and stared at the empty glass.
"I think she saw too many news reports on the earthquake. It was too much for a four-year-old. She wakes up at around the time of the quake. She says a man woke her up, somebody she doesnt know. The Earthquake Maries to put her in a little box—too little for ao fit into. She tells him she doesnt want to get inside, aarts pushing her—so hard her joints crad he tries to stuff her ihats when she screams and wakes up."
"The Earthquake Man?"
"Hes tall and skinny and old. After shes had the dream, she goes around turning on every light in the house and looking for him: in the closets, in the shoe cupboard in the front hall, uhe beds, in all the dresser drawers. I tell her it was just a dream, but she wont listen to me. And she wont go to bed until shes looked everywhere he could possibly hide. That takes at least an hour, by which time Im wide awake. Im so sleep-deprived I hardly stand up, let alone work."
Sayoko almost never spilled out her feelings like this.
"Try not to watch the news," Junpei said. "The earthquakes all theyre showing these days."
"I almost never watch TV anymore. But its too late now. The Earthquake Man keeps ing."
Juhought for a while.
"What do you say we go to the zoo on Sunday? Sala says she wants to see a real bear."
Sayoko narrowed her eyes and looked at him. "Not bad. It just might ge her mood. Lets do it—the four of us. Its been ages. You call Takatsuki, O.K.?"
Junpei was thirty-six, born and bred iy of Kobe, where his father owned a pair of jewelry stores. He had a sister six years his junior. After a year at a private cram school, he had enrolled at Waseda Uy, in Tokyo. He had passed the entrance exams in both the business and the literature departments. He chose the literature department without the slightest hesitation and told his parents that he had ehe business department. They would never have paid for him to study literature, and Junpei had no iion of wasting four precious years studying the ws of the ey. All he wanted was to study literature, and then to bee a writer.
At the uy, Junpei made two friends, Takatsuki and Sayoko. Takatsuki came from the mountains of Nagano. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had been the captain of his high-school soccer team. It had taken him two years of studying to pass the entrance exam, so he was a year older than Junpei. Practical and decisive, he had the kind of looks that made people take to him right away, aurally assumed a leadership role in any group. But he had trouble reading books; he had ehe literature department because its exam was the only one he could pass. "What the hell," he said, in his positive way. "Im going to be a neer reporter, so Ill let them teach me how to write."
Junpei did not uand why Takatsuki had any i in befriending him. Junpei was the kind of person who liked to sit alone in his room reading books or listening to musid he was terrible at sports. Awkward with strangers, he rarely made friends. Still, for whatever reason, Takatsuki seemed to have decided the first time he saw Junpei in class that he was going to make him a friend. He tapped Junpei on the shoulder and said, "Hey, lets get something to eat." And by the end of the day they had opeheir hearts to each other.
Takatsuki used the same approach with Sayoko. Junpei was with Takatsuki wheapped her on the shoulder and said, "Hey, what do you say the three of us go get something to eat?" And so their tight little group was born. Juakatsuki, and Sayoko did everything together. They shared lecture notes, ate lun the campus dining hall, talked about their future over coffee, took parttime jobs at the same place, went to latenight movies and rock certs, walked all over Tokyo, and drank so much beer that they even got sick together. In other words, they behaved like first-year college students the world over.
Sayoko was a real Tokyo girl. She came from the old part of town, where the mert class had lived for turies, and her father ran a shop selling the exquisite little accessories that go with traditional Japanese dress. The business had been in the family for several geions, and it attracted an exclusive tele that included several famous Kabuki actors. Sayoko had plans to go on to graduate school in English literature, and ultimately to an academic career. She read a lot, and she and Junpei were stantly exging novels and having intense versations about them. Sayoko had beautiful hair and intelligent eyes. She expressed herself quietly and with simple hoy, but deep down she had great strength. She was always casually dressed, without makeup, but she had a unique sense of humor, and her face would kle up mischievously whenever she made some funny remark. Junpei found that look of hers incredible. He had never fallen in love until he met Sayoko. He had attended a boys high school and had had almost no opportuo meet girls.
But Junpei couldnt bring himself to express his feelings to Sayoko. He khat there would be no going bace the words were spoken, and that Sayoko might take herself off somewhere far beyond his reach. At the very least, the perfectly balanced, fortable relationship between Juakatsuki, and Sayoko would undergo a shift. So Juold himself to leave things as they were for now and watd wait.
In the end, Takatsuki was the first to make a move. "I hate to throw this at you out of the blue, but Im in love with Sayoko," he told Junpei. "I hope you dont mind." This was midway through September of their sed year. Takatsuki explaihat he and Sayoko had bee involved, almost by act, while Junpei was at home for the summer vacation.
Junpei fixed his gaze on Takatsuki. It took him a few moments to uand what had happened, but when he did it sank into him like a lead weight. He no longer had any choi the matter. "No," he said, "I dont mind."
"I am so glad to hear that!" Takatsuki said with a huge smile. "You were the only one I was worried about. I mean, the three of us had such a great thing going, it was kind of like I beat you out. But, anyway, Juhis had to happen sometime. If not now, it was bound to happen sooner or later. The main thing is that I want the three of us to go on being friends. O.K.?"
Junpei spent the several days in a fog. He skipped classes and work. He lay on the floor of his one-room apartmeing nothing but the scraps in the refrigerator and slugging down whiskey whehe impulse struck him. He thought about quitting uy and going to some distant town where he knew no one and could spend the rest of his years doing manual labor. That would be the best life style for him, he decided.
On the fifth day of this, Sayoko came to Junpeis apartment. She was wearing a navy-blue sweatshirt and white cotton pants, and her hair inned back.
"Where have you been?" she asked. "Everybodys worried that youre dead in your room. Takatsuki asked me to check up on you. I guess he wasnt too keen on seeing the corpse himself."
Junpei said he had been feeling sick.
"Yeah," she said, "youve lost some weight, I think." She stared at him. "Wao make you something to eat?"
Junpei shook his head. He didnt feel like eating, he said.
Sayoko opehe refrigerator and looked ih a grimace. It held only two s of beer, an old cucumber, and some baking soda. Sayoko sat dowo Junpei. "I dont know how to ask this, Junpei, but are you feeling bad about Takatsuki and me?"
Junpei said that he was not. And it was no lie. He was not feeling bad ry. If, in fact, he was angry, it was at himself. For Takatsuki and Sayoko to bee lovers was the most natural thing in the world. Takatsuki had all the qualifications. Junpei had was that simple.
"Go halves on a beer?" Sayoko asked.
"Sure."
She took a of beer from the refrigerator and divided the tents between two glasses, handing oo Juhey drank in silence, separately.
"Its kind of embarrassing to put this into words," she said, "but I want to stay friends with you, Junpei. Not just for now, but even after we get older. A lot older. I love Takatsuki, but I need you, too, in a whole different way. Does that make me selfish?"
Junpei was not sure how to ahat, but he shook his head.
Sayoko said, "To uand something and to put that something into a form that you see with your own eyes are two pletely different things. If you could mao do both equally well, living would be a lot simpler."
Junpei looked at Sayoko in profile. He had no idea what she was trying to say. Why does my brain always work so slowly? he wondered. He looked up, and for a long time his half-focussed eyes traced the shape of a stain on the ceiling. How would the situation have developed if he had fessed his love to Sayoko before Takatsuki had fessed his? To this Junpei could find no answer. All he knew for sure was that such a thing would never have happened.
He heard the sound of tears falling oami, an oddly magnified sound. For a moment, he wondered if he was g without being aware of it. But then he realized that Sayoko was the one who was g. She had hung her head between her knees, and now, though she made no sound, her shoulders were trembling.
Almost unsciously, he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. Then he drew her gently toward him. She did not resist. He ed his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers. She closed her eyes a her lips part. Junpei caught the st of tears and drew breath from her mouth. He felt the softness of her breasts against him. Inside, he felt some kind of switg of places. He even heard the sound it made—like joints creaking. But that was all. As if regaining sciousness, Sayoko moved her face bad down, pushing Junpei away.
"No," she said quietly, shaking her head. "We t do this. Its wrong."
Junpei apologized. Sayoko said nothing. They remaihat way, in silence, for a long time. The sound of a radio came in through the open window. It ular song. Junpei was sure that he would remember it till the day he died. But, in fact, try as he might after that, he was never able to recall the title or the melody.
"You dont have to apologize," Sayoko said. "Its not your fault."
"I think Im fused," Junpei said holy.
Sayoko reached out and laid her hand on Junpeis. "e back to school, O.K.? Tomorrow? Ive never had a friend like you before. You give me so much. I hope you realize that."
"So much, but not enough," he said.
"Thats not true," she said. "That is so not true."
Junpei went to his classes the day, and the tight-knit threesome of Juakatsuki, and Sayoko tihrough graduation. Junpeis short-lived desire to disappear disappeared itself. By holding her in his arms that day in his apartment and pressing his lips to hers, Junpei had calmed something inside himself. At least he no longer felt fused. The decision had been made, even if he had not been the oo make it.
Sayoko sometimes introduced Juo a classmate of hers, and they would double-date. He saw a lot of one of the girls, and it was with her that he had sex for the first time, just before his tweh birthday. But his heart was always somewhere else. He was respectful, kind, and teo her, but never passionate or devoted. She eventually went elsewhere in search of true warmth. The same pattered itself any number of times.
When he graduated, Junpeis parents discovered that he had been maj in literature, not eics, and things turned ugly. His father wanted him to take over the family business, but Junpei had no iion of doing that. He wao stay in Tokyo and keep writing fi. There was no room for promise oher side, and a violent argument ensued. Words were spoken that should not have been. Junpei never saw his parents again, and he was vihat it had to be that way. Unlike his sister, who always mao promise a along with their parents, Junpei had dohing but clash with them from the time he was a child.
Juook a series of part-time jobs that helped him to scrape by as he tio write fi. Whenever he finished a story, he showed it to Sayoko and got her ho opinion, then revised it acc tgestions. Until she pronounced a piece good, he would rewrite it again and again, carefully and patiently. He had no other mentor, and he beloo no writers group.
When he was twenty-four, a story of his won an award from a literary magazine, and over the five years Junpei was nominated for the coveted Akutagarize four times, but he never actually won it. He remaihe eternally promising didate. A typical opinion from a judge on the prize ittee would say, "For such a young author, this is writing of very high quality, with remarkable examples of both plot and psychological analysis. But the author has a tendency to let seake over from time to time, and the work lacks both freshness and ic sweep."
Takatsuki would laugh when he read such opinions. "These guys are out of their minds. What the hell is ic sweep? Real people dont use words like that. Todays sukiyaki was lag iic sweep. Ever hear anybody say anything like that?"
Junpei published two volumes of short stories before he turhirty: "Horse in the Rain" and "Grapes." "Horse in the Rain" sold ten thousand copies, "Grapes" twelve thousand. These were not bad figures for short-story colles, acc to his editor. The reviews were generally favorable, but none gave his work passionate support. Most of Junpeis stories were about young people in situations of ued love. His style was lyrical, the plots rather old-fashioned. Readers of his geion were looking for a more iive style and grittier plots. This was the age of video games and rap music, after all. Junpeis edited him to try a novel. If he never wrote anything but short stories, he would just keep dealing with the same material over and ain. Writing a novel could open up whole new worlds for a writer. As a practical matter, too, novels attracted far more attention than stories. Writing only short stories was a hard way to make a living.
But Junpei was a born short-story writer. He would shut himself in his room, let everything else go to hell, and turn out a first draft in three days of trated effort. After four more days of polishing, he would give the manuscript to Sayoko and his editor to read. Basically, though, the battle was won or lost in that first week. That was whehing that mattered iory came together. His personality was suited to this way of w: total tration of effort over a few short days. Junpei felt only exhaustion whehought about writing a novel. How could he possibly maintain his tration for months at a time? That kind of pag eluded him.
Given his austere bachelors life style, Junpei did not need much money. Once he had made what he needed fiven period, he would stop accepting work. He had only one silent cat to feed. His girlfriends were always the undemanding type, and when he grew bored with them he would e up with some pretext for ending the relationship. Sometimes, maybe once a month, he would wake at an odd time in the night with a feeling that was close to panic. Im not going anywhere, he would tell himself. I struggle all I want, but Im never going to go anywhere. Then he would either force himself to go to his desk and write, or drink until he could no loay awake.
Takatsuki had lahe job hed always wanted—rep for a top neer. Since he udied, his grades at the uy were nothing t about, but the impression he made at interviews was overwhelmingly positive, and he had basically been hired on the spot. Sayoko had entered graduate school, as plahey married six months after graduation, the ceremony as cheerful and busy as Takatsuki himself. They honeymooned in France, and bought a two-room do a short ute from downtown. Junpei would e over for dinner a couple of times a week, and the newlyweds always weled him warmly. It was almost as if they were more fortable with Junpei around thahey were aloogether.
Takatsuki enjoyed his work at the neer. He was assigned first to the city desk, which kept him running from one se edy to the . "I see a corpse now and not feel a thing," he said. Bodies dismembered by trains, charred in fires, discolored with age, the bloated cadavers of drowning victims, gunshot victims with their brains splattered. "Whatever distinguished one lump of flesh from another when they were alive, its all the same oheyre dead," he said. "Just used-up shells."
Takatsuki was sometimes too busy to make it home before m. Then Sayoko would call Junpei. She khat he was often up all night.
"Are you w? you talk?"
"Sure," he would say. "Im not doing anything special."
Theyd discuss the books they had read, or things that had e up in their daily lives. Thealk about the old days, when they were still free and spontaneous. versations like that would iably bring back memories of the time that Junpei had held Sayoko in his arms: the smooth touch of her lips, the softness of her breasts against him, the transparent early-autumn sunlight streaming onto the tatami floor of his apartment—these were never far from his thoughts.
Just after she turhirty, Sayoko became pregnant. She was a graduate assistant at the time, but she took a break from her job to give birth to a baby girl. The three of them came up with all kinds of names for the baby, but decided in the end on one of Junpeis suggestions—Sala. "I love the sound of it," Sayoko told him. There were no plications with the birth, and that night Junpei and Takatsuki found themselves together without Sayoko for the first time in a long while. Junpei had brought over a bottle of single malt to celebrate, and they emptied it together at the kit table.
"Why does time shoot by like this?" Takatsuki asked with a depth of feeling that was rare for him. "It seems like only yesterday I was a freshman, and then I met you, and then I met Sayoko, and the hing I know Im a father. Its weird, like Im watg a movie in fast-forward. You probably wouldnt uand, Junpei. Youre still living the way you did in college. Its like you opped being a student, you lucky bastard."
"Not so lucky," Junpei said, but he knew how Takatsuki felt. Sayoko was a mother now. This was as big a shock for Junpei as it was for Takatsuki. The gears of life had moved ahead a notch with a loud ker-k, and Junpei khat they would urn back again. The ohing that he was not yet sure of was how he was supposed to feel about it.
"I couldnt tell you this before," Takatsuki said, "but Im pretty sure Sayoko was more attracted to you than she was to me." He was drunk, but there was a more serious gleam in his eye than usual.
"Thats crazy," Junpei said with a smile.
"Like hell it is. I know what Im talking about. You know how to put words on a page, but you dont know shit about a womans feelings. A drowned corpse does better than you. You had no idea how she felt about you, and I figured, what the hell, I was in love with her, and I had to have her. I still think shes the greatest woman in the world. I still think it was my right to have her."
"Nobodys saying it wasnt," Junpei said.
Takatsuki nodded. "But you still do. Not really. When it es to anything halfway important, youre so damn stupid. Its amazing to me that you put a piece of fi together."
"Yeah, well, thats a different thing."
"Anyhow, now there are four of us," Takatsuki said with a sigh. "Four of us. Four. Is that O.K.?"
Junpei learned just before Salas sed birthday that Takatsuki and Sayoko were on the verge of breaking up. Sayoko seemed apologetic when she broke the o him. Takatsuki had had a lover sihe time of Sayoknancy, and he hardly ever came home anymore, she explained.
Junpei couldo grasp what he was hearing, no matter how maails Sayoko was able to give him. Why would Takatsuki have wanted another woman? He had declared Sayoko to <q>９９lｉb?</q>be the greatest woman in the world the night that Sala was born, and he had meant it. Besides, he was crazy about Sala. "I mean, Im over at your house all the time, eating dinner with you guys, right? But I never sensed a thing. You were happiness itself—the perfect family."
"Its true," Sayoko said. "We werent lying to you or putting on an act. But quite separately from that he got himself a girlfriend, and we ever go back to what we had. So we decided to split up. Do bother you too much. Im sure things will work out better now, in a lot of different ways."
Sayoko and Takatsuki were divorced some months later. They reached an agreement without the slightest problem: no recriminations, no disputed claims. Takatsuki went to live with his girlfriend; he came to visit Sala once a week, and they all agreed that Junpei would try to be present at those times. "It would make things easier for both of us," Sayoko told Junpei. He felt as if he had suddenly grown much older, though he had only just turhirty-three.
Whehey got together, Takatsuki was his usual talkative self, and Sayokos behavior erfectly natural, as though nothing had happened. If anything, she seemed even more natural than before, in Junpeis eyes. Sala had no idea that her parents were divorced. And Junpei played his assigned role perfectly. The three joked around as always and talked about the old days.
"Hey, Juell me," Takatsuki said, one January night whewo of them were walking home, their breath white in the chill air. "Do you have somebody youre planning to marry?"
"Not at the moment," Junpei said.
"No girlfriend?"
"Nope."
"What do you say you and Sayoko get together?"
Junpei squi Takatsuki as if at some tht object. "Why?" he asked.
"What do you mean, why? Its so obvious! If nothing else, youre the only man Id want to be a father to Sala."
"Is that the only reason you think I should marry Sayoko?"
Takatsuki sighed and draped his thick arm around Junpeis shoulders.
"Whats the matter? Dont you like the idea of marrying Sayoko? Or is it the thought of stepping in after me?"
"That doesnt bother me. I just wonder if you make this like some kind of deal. Its a question of decy."
"This is no deal," Takatsuki said. "And its got nothing to do with decy. You love Sayokht? You love Sala, too, dont you? Thats the most important thing. I know youve got your os. Fine. I grant you that. But to me it looks like youre trying to pull off your shorts without taking off your pants."
Junpei said nothing, and Takatsuki went into an unusually long silence. Shoulder to shoulder, they walked down the road to the station, heaving white breath into the night.
"In any case," Junpei said, "youre an absolute idiot."
"I have to give you credit," Takatsuki said. "Youre right on the mark. I dont deny it. Im ruining my own life. But Im telling you, Junpei, I couldnt help it. There was no way I could put a stop to it. I dont know aer than you do why it had to happen. It just happened. And, if not here and now, something like it would have happened sooner or later."
Junpei felt as if he had heard the same speech before. "Do you remember what you said to me the night that Sala was born? That Sayoko was the greatest woman in the world, that you could never find ao take her pla<tt></tt>ce."
"And its still true. Nothing has ged where thats ed. But that very fact sometimes make things go bad."
"I dont know what you mean by that," Junpei said.
"And you never will," Takatsuki said with a shake of the head. He always had the last word.
Two years went by. Sayoko never went back to teag. Junpei got aor friend of his to send her a story to translate, and she carried the job off with a certain flair. The editor was impressed enough to give her a substantial new piece the following month. The pay was not very good, but it added to what Takatsuki was sending and helped Sayoko and Sala to live fortably.
They all went oing at least once a week, as they always had. Whenever urgent business kept Takatsuki away, Sayoko, Junpei, and Sala would eat together. The table was quiet without Takatsuki, and the versation turo oddly muters. A stranger would have assumed that the three of them were just a typical family.
Junpei went on writing a steady stream of stories, bringing out his fourth colle, "Silent Moon," when he was thirty-five. It received one of the prizes reserved for established writers, and the title story was made into a movie. Junpei also produced a volume of music criticism, wrote a book on oral gardening, and translated a colle of John Updikes short stories. All were well received. Seg his position as a writer little by little, he had developed a steady readership and a stable ine.
He tio think seriously about asking Sayoko to marry him. On more than one occasion, he kept himself awake all night thinking about it, and for a time he was uo work. But still he could not make up his mind. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to him that his relationship with Sayoko had been sistently chraphed by others. His position was alassive. Takatsuki was the one who had picked the two of them out of his class and created the threesome. Then he had taken Sayoko, married her, made a child with her, and divorced her. And now Takatsuki was the one who was urging Juo marry her. Junpei loved Sayoko, of course. About that there was no question. And now was the perfect time for him to be united with her. She probably wouldnt turn him down. But Junpei couldhinking that things were just a bit too easy. What was there left for him to decide? And so he went on w. And not deg. And then the earthquake came.
Junpei was in Bara at the time, doing a story for an airline magazine. He returo his hotel in the evening to find the TV news filled with images of collapsed buildings and black clouds of smoke. It looked like the aftermath of an air raid. Because the announcer eaking in Spanish, it took Junpei a while to realize what city he was looking at. "Youre from Kobe, arent you?" his photographer asked.
But Junpei did not try to call his parents. The rift was too deep, and had gone on too long for there to be any hope of reciliation. Junpei flew back to Tokyo and resumed his normal life there. He urned oelevision, and hardly looked at a neer. Whehe subject of the earthquake came up, he would clamp his mouth shut. It was an echo from a past that he had buried long ago. He had foot on those streets since his graduation, but still the catastrophe laid bare wounds that were hidden somewhere deep inside him. It seemed to ge certain aspects of his life—quietly, but pletely. Junpei felt airely new sense of isolation. I have no roots, he thought. Im not ected to anything.
Early on the Sunday m that they had all plao take Sala to the zoo to see the bears, Takatsuki called to say that he had to fly to Okinawa. He had ma last to pry the promise of a one-oerview out of the governor. "Sorry, but youll have to go to the zoo without me. I dont suppose Mr. Bear will be too upset if I dont make it."
So Junpei and Sayoko took Sala to the Ueno Zoo. Junpei held Sala in his arms and showed her the bears. She poio the biggest, blackest bear and asked, "Is that one Masakichi?"
"No, no, thats not Masakichi," Junpei said. "Masakichi is smaller than that, and hes smarter-looking, too. Thats the tough guy, Tonkichi."
"Tonkichi!" Sala yelled again and again, but the bear paid no attention. Then she looked at Junpei and said, "Tell me a story about Tonkichi."
"Thats a hard one," Junpei said. "There arent that many iing stories about Tonkichi. Hes just an ordinary bear. He t talk or t money like Masakichi."
"But I bet you tell me something good about him. Ohing."
"Youre absolutely right," Junpei said. "Theres at least one good thing to tell about even the most ordinary bear. Oh, yeah, I almost fot. Well, Tonchiki—"
"Tonkichi!" Sala corrected him with a toupatience.
"Ah, yes, sorry. Well, Tonkichi had ohing he could do really well, and that was catg salmon. Hed go to the river and crouch down behind a boulder and snap!—he would grab himself a salmon. You have to be really fast to do something like that. Tonkichi was not the brightest bear on the mountain, but he sure could catch more salmon than any of the other bears. More than he could ever hope to eat. But he couldnt go to town to sell his extra salmon, because he didnt know how to talk."
"Thats easy," Sala said. "All he had to do was trade his extra salmon for Masakichis extra honey."
"Youre right," Junpei said. "And thats what Tonkichi decided to do. So Tonkichi and Masakichi started trading salmon for honey, and before long they got to know each other really well. Tonkichi realized that Masakichi was not such a stuck-up bear after all, and Masakichi realized that Tonkichi was not just a tough guy. Before they k, they were best friends. Tonkichi worked hard at catg salmon, and Masakichi worked hard at colleg honey. But then one day, like a bolt from the blue, the salmon disappeared from the river."
"A bolt from the blue?"
"Like a flash of lightning from a clear blue sky," Sayoko explained. "All of a sudden, without warning."
"All of a sudden the salmon disappeared?" Sala asked, with a sombre expression. "But why?"
"Well, all the salmon in the wot together and decided they werent going to swim up that river anymore, because a bear onkichi was there, and he was so good at catg salmon. Tonkiever caught another det salmon after that. The best he could do was cat occasional skinny salmon a it, but the worst-tasting thing you could ever want to eat is a skinny salmon."
"Poor Tonkichi!" Sala said.
"And thats how Tonkichi ended up beio the zoo?" Sayoko asked.
"Well, thats a long, long story," Junpei said, clearing his throat. "But, basically, yes, thats what happened."
"Didnt Masakichi help Tonkichi?" Sala asked.
"He tried. They were best friends, after all. Thats what friends are for. Masakichi shared his honey with Tonkichi—for free! But Tonkichi said, I t let you do that. Itd be like taking advantage of you. Masakichi said, You dont have to be such a stranger with me, Tonkichi. If I were in your position, youd do the same thing for me, Im sure. You would, wouldnt you? "
"Sure he would," Sala said.
"But things didnt stay that way between them for long," Sayoko interjected.
"Things didnt stay that way between them for long," Junpei said. "Tonkichi told Masakichi, Were supposed to be friends. Its nht for one friend to do all the giving and the other to do all the taking: thats not real friendship. Im leaving this mountain now, Masakichi, and Ill try my luewhere else. And if you and I meet up again somewhere, we will still be best friends. So they shook hands and parted. But after Tonkichi came down from the mountain, he didnt know enough to be careful iside world, so a hunter caught him in a trap. That was the end of Tonkichis freedom. They sent him to the zoo."
"Couldnt you have e up with a better ending? Like, everybody lives happily ever after?" Sayoko asked Junpei later.
"I havent thought of o."
The three of them had diogether, as usual, in Sayokos apartment. Sayoko boiled a pot of spaghetti and defrosted some tomato sauce while Junpei made a salad of green beans and onions. They opened a bottle of red wine and poured Sala a glass e juice. When they had finished eating, and ing the kit, Junpei read to Sala from a picture book, but wheime came she resisted.
"Please, Mama, do the bra trick," she begged.
Sayoko blushed. "Not now," she said. "We have a guest."
"No, we dont," Sala said. "Junpeis not a guest."
"Whats this all about?" Junpei asked.
"Its just a silly game," Sayoko said.
"Mama takes her bra off under her clothes, puts it oable, and puts it ba again. She has to keep one hand oable. Aime her. Shes great!"
"Sala!" Sayoko growled, shaking her head. "Its just a little game we play at home. Its not meant for anybody else."
"Sounds like fun to me," Junpei said.
"Please, Mama, show Junpei! Just once. If you do it, Ill go to bed right away."
"Oh, whats the use," Sayoko muttered. She took off her digital watd ha to Sala. "Now, youre not going to give me any more trouble about going to bed, right? O.K., get ready to time me when I t to three."
Sayoko was wearing a baggy black eck sweater. She put both hands oable and ted, "One . . . two . . . three!" Like a turtles head retrag into its shell, her right hand disappeared up her sleeve, and then there was a light back-scratg kind of movement. Out came the right hand again, and the left ha up its sleeve. Sayoko turned her head just a bit, and the left hand came out holding a white bra—a small one, with no wires. Without the slightest wasted motion, the hand and bra went back up the sleeve, and the hand came out again. Then the right hand pulled in, poked around at the back, and came out again. The end. Sayoko rested her right hand on her left oable.
"Twenty-five seds," Sala said. "Thats great, Mama, a new record! Your best time so far was thirty-six seds."
Junpei applauded. "Wonderful! Like magic."
Sala clapped her hands, too. Sayoko stood up and announced, "All right, show time is over. To bed, young lady. You promised."
Sala kissed Junpei on the cheek ao bed.
Sayoko stayed with her until her breathing was deep and steady, then joined Junpei on the sofa. "I have a fession to make," she said. "I cheated."
"Cheated?"
"I didnt put the bra ba. I just pretended. I slipped it out from under my sweater and dropped it on the floor."
Junpei laughed. "What a terrible mother!"
"I wao make a new record," she said, narrowing her eyes with a smile. He hadnt seen her smile in that simple, mischievous way for a long time. Time wobbled on its axis inside Junpei, like curtains stirring in a breeze. He reached for Sayokos shoulder, and her hand took his. They came together on the sofa in a strong embrace. With plete naturalness, they ed their arms around each other and kissed. It was as if nothing had ged sihe time they were een.
"We should have been like this to begin with," Sayoko whispered after they had moved from the sofa to her bed. "But you did. You just did. Not till the salmon disappeared from the river."
They took their clothes off and held each ently. Their hands groped clumsily, as if they were both having sex for the first time. They took their time, until they khey were ready, and then at last Junpei entered Sayoko and she drew him in.
None of this seemed real to Junpei. In the half-light, he felt as if he were crossing a deserted bridge that went on and on forever. He moved, and she moved with him. Again and again, he wao e, but he held himself back, fearing that, o happehe dream would end and everything would vanish.
Then, behind him, he heard a slight creaking sound. The bedroom door was easing open. The light from the hallway took the shape of the door and fell on the rumpled bedclothes. Junpei raised himself and turo see Sala standing against the light. Sayoko held her breath and moved her hips aulling Junpei out. Gathering the sheet to her breasts, she used one hand t<bdo>?99ｌib?</bdo>hten the hair on her forehead.
Sala was n or screaming. Her right hand gripping the doorknob, she just stood there, looking at the two of them but seeing nothing. Her eyes were focussed oiness.
Sayoko called her name.
"The man said to e here," Sala said in a flat voice, like someone who has just been ripped out of a dream.
"The man?" Sayoko asked.
"The Earthquake Man. He came and woke me up. He told me to tell you. He said he has the box ready for everybody. He said hes waiting with the lid open. He said I should tell you that, and you would uand."
Sala slept in Sayokos bed that night. Juretched out on the living-room sofa with a bla, but he could not sleep. The TV faced the sofa, and for a very long time he stared at the dead s. Junpei khat they were ihere. They were waiting with the box open. Junpei felt a chill run up his spine, and, no matter how long he waited, it did not go away.
He gave up trying to sleep ao the kit. He made himself some coffee and sat at the kit table to drink it, but he felt something bunched up under one foot. It was Sayokos bra, still lying there. He picked it up and hung it on the back of a chair. It was a simple, white piece of underwear, devoid of decoration. It hung o chair in the predawn darkness like some anonymous witness who had wandered in from a time long past.
Juhought about his early days in college. He could still hear Takatsuki the first time they met, saying, "Hey, lets get something to eat," in that warm way of his, and he could see Takatsukis friendly smile that seemed to say, "Relax. The world is just going to keep gettier aer." Where did we eat that time, Junpei wondered, and what did we have? He couldnt remember, though he was sure it was nothing special.
"Why did you e to go to lunch with?" Junpei had asked him that day. Takatsuki tapped his own temple with plete fidence. "I have a talent for pig the right friends at the right times in the right places."
And Takatsuki had not been wrong, Juhought, setting his coffee mug o table. He did have an intuitive knack for pig the right friends. But that was not enough. Finding one person to love over the long haul of life was quite a different matter from finding friends. Junpei closed his eyes and thought about the stretch of time he had passed through. He did not want to think of it as something he had merely used up without any purpose.
As soon as Sayoko woke in the m, he would ask her to marry him, Junpei decided. He was sure now. He couldnt waste another miaking care not to make a sound, he opehe bedroom door and looked at Sayoko and Sala sleeping bundled in a forter. Sala lay with her back to Sayoko, whose arm was draped on Salas shoulder. Juouched Sayokos hair where it fell across the pillow, and caressed Salas small, pink cheek with the tip of his finger. her of them stirred. He eased himself down to the carpeted floor by the bed, his back against the wall, to watch over them in their sleep.
Eyes fixed on the hands of the clock, Juhought about the rest of the story for Sala. He had to find a way to end the tale of Masakichi and Tonkichi. There had to be a way to save Tonkichi from the zoo. Junpei retraced the story from the beginning. Before long, an idea began to sprout in his head, and, little by little, it took shape.
Tonkichi had the same thought as Sala: he would use the hohat Masakichi had collected to bake honey pies. It didnt take him long to realize that he had a real talent for making crisp, delicious honey pies. Masakichi took the honey pies to town and sold them to the people there. The people loved Tonkichis honey pies and bought them by the dozen. So Tonkichi and Masakiever had to separate again: they lived happily ever after in the mountains.
Sala would be sure to love the new ending. And so would Sayoko. I want to write stories that are different from the ones Ive written so far, Juhought. I want to write about people who dream and wait for the night to end, who long for the light so that they hold the ohey love. But right now I have to stay here and keep watch over this woman and this girl. I will never let a ary to put them into that crazy box, not even if the sky should fall or the earth crack open with a roar.
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