Read Online Last Winter We Parted by Fuminori Nakamura - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Fuminori Nakamura
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she finds appealing about a wobbler like him … but he must have some redeeming qualities.
And what about you? Were you really a member of K2? Are you really trying to write a book about me? I don’t know the first thing about you from your letters. I don’t know what you look like. Or even what your voice sounds like. Because you’ve made no effort at all to come visit me.
So I need to ask you this fundamental question:
Just who the hell are you?
10
THIN THREADS OF rain are soaking the ground, as though it doesn’t really matter if it falls or not.
Usually I don’t care if I get wet but I put up my umbrella. I am on my way to meet someone. It makes people uncomfortable when you show up sopping wet.
I had fled back home from Akari Kiharazaka’s apartment. I had left her like that, halfway out of her bathrobe. I am a mess. In a bad way. My head is throbbing, and I futilelyclench my molars together. It isn’t as if that is going to make my headache go away.
Sensing something, I turn around to see a cat behind me. The cat is black, the area around its belly helplessly white. For some reason the cat has been following close behind me. Like it is checking to see what my fate is. As I hold up my umbrella, my bag feels heavy. I am aware of the recorder and notebook and stationery I am carrying. I still cannot bring myself to write a single letter to Yudai Kiharazaka. He seems to expect me to open up to him in a letter, but I can’t figure out how to write to him. I even have envelopes with me. And of course pens too. Maybe, once I start writing, the words will come to me. I have still only met him twice.
I can see a concrete wall. The high enclosure conceals an old mansion. There are numerous trees. Inside the grounds, the house surrounded by that wall seems familiar for some reason.
I ring the doorbell. I hear a woman’s voice, and a moment later the door opens. A still youthful woman comes to greet me. Smiling, she guides me through a large garden.
“We’ve been expecting you.”
These words are spoken by a man who has been crouching in the garden. He is the doll creator, Suzuki. He is wearing the white sweat suit that is his work clothes. The color isdifferent, but it resembles the outfit that I had seen Yudai Kiharazaka wearing.
“I thought it was about time you came around. You’re writing a book about Kiharazaka, are you?”
He smiles as he speaks. The woman is also smiling as she looks at me. I sense something behind me, and turn around to see the same cat from before. It approaches the doll creator and then rolls over on the ground. It must be Suzuki’s cat. As I look closer, I see it is wearing a collar.
“… Yes. I’m a mess. I, uh …”
“You’re in over your head?”
“I am.”
“… I see,” he says with concern in his amiable voice. I wonder how old he is. I had thought he was in his forties, but he had looked younger when I saw him outside of his home.
“Please come inside. I’m not working today.”
The woman opens the front door and leads me inside. We walk down a hallway and come into a familiar spacious tatami room. My breath catches. There are countless dolls, all wearing different clothes. They seem utterly alive. Of course, I know very well that they aren’t alive but, I can’t help thinking, they are by no means dead either. Although my brain registers them as human, a part of me still seems aware that they definitely are not. The vivid gazes of the variousdolls are looking in every direction. My eyes lock with one of them. My heart starts to race a little. If I look at them from even a slightly different angle, each of the dolls’ expressions seems completely changed.
“… Lately, I haven’t been able to make any for pleasure. I’ve been too busy.”
“You have many commissions?”
“Yes. Maybe it’s the times we live in. There are a lot of requests for ones modeled on living people.”
The doll creator smiles when he says this. His eyes are
And what about you? Were you really a member of K2? Are you really trying to write a book about me? I don’t know the first thing about you from your letters. I don’t know what you look like. Or even what your voice sounds like. Because you’ve made no effort at all to come visit me.
So I need to ask you this fundamental question:
Just who the hell are you?
10
THIN THREADS OF rain are soaking the ground, as though it doesn’t really matter if it falls or not.
Usually I don’t care if I get wet but I put up my umbrella. I am on my way to meet someone. It makes people uncomfortable when you show up sopping wet.
I had fled back home from Akari Kiharazaka’s apartment. I had left her like that, halfway out of her bathrobe. I am a mess. In a bad way. My head is throbbing, and I futilelyclench my molars together. It isn’t as if that is going to make my headache go away.
Sensing something, I turn around to see a cat behind me. The cat is black, the area around its belly helplessly white. For some reason the cat has been following close behind me. Like it is checking to see what my fate is. As I hold up my umbrella, my bag feels heavy. I am aware of the recorder and notebook and stationery I am carrying. I still cannot bring myself to write a single letter to Yudai Kiharazaka. He seems to expect me to open up to him in a letter, but I can’t figure out how to write to him. I even have envelopes with me. And of course pens too. Maybe, once I start writing, the words will come to me. I have still only met him twice.
I can see a concrete wall. The high enclosure conceals an old mansion. There are numerous trees. Inside the grounds, the house surrounded by that wall seems familiar for some reason.
I ring the doorbell. I hear a woman’s voice, and a moment later the door opens. A still youthful woman comes to greet me. Smiling, she guides me through a large garden.
“We’ve been expecting you.”
These words are spoken by a man who has been crouching in the garden. He is the doll creator, Suzuki. He is wearing the white sweat suit that is his work clothes. The color isdifferent, but it resembles the outfit that I had seen Yudai Kiharazaka wearing.
“I thought it was about time you came around. You’re writing a book about Kiharazaka, are you?”
He smiles as he speaks. The woman is also smiling as she looks at me. I sense something behind me, and turn around to see the same cat from before. It approaches the doll creator and then rolls over on the ground. It must be Suzuki’s cat. As I look closer, I see it is wearing a collar.
“… Yes. I’m a mess. I, uh …”
“You’re in over your head?”
“I am.”
“… I see,” he says with concern in his amiable voice. I wonder how old he is. I had thought he was in his forties, but he had looked younger when I saw him outside of his home.
“Please come inside. I’m not working today.”
The woman opens the front door and leads me inside. We walk down a hallway and come into a familiar spacious tatami room. My breath catches. There are countless dolls, all wearing different clothes. They seem utterly alive. Of course, I know very well that they aren’t alive but, I can’t help thinking, they are by no means dead either. Although my brain registers them as human, a part of me still seems aware that they definitely are not. The vivid gazes of the variousdolls are looking in every direction. My eyes lock with one of them. My heart starts to race a little. If I look at them from even a slightly different angle, each of the dolls’ expressions seems completely changed.
“… Lately, I haven’t been able to make any for pleasure. I’ve been too busy.”
“You have many commissions?”
“Yes. Maybe it’s the times we live in. There are a lot of requests for ones modeled on living people.”
The doll creator smiles when he says this. His eyes are
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