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Authors: Ryu Murakami
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rousing, “Oh!” and thrust their fists toward the low, sagging ceiling of his apartment.
With Yano guiding the way, the five set off, frolicking as if on their way to a used computer blowout sale, taking the Joetsu Line from Ueno to Kumagaya to purchase a certain weapon. On the train, they played shiritori , a simple game in which one person says a word and the next person uses the last syllable of that word as the first syllable for a new word, and so on. Sugiyama had lobbied for drop the hankie, but because of space considerations none of the others supported him, so he went into a snit, saying that if he couldn’t play his game he wouldn’t play shiritori either, and sat pouting and staring out the window at the scenery. The Limited Express took about forty minutes to reach Kumagaya from Ueno Station, and in that time they managed to advance only eight words. Ishihara, who had suggested they play shiritori, said, “I’ll start, then. The first word is shiritori. Next! Something that starts with ri .” He didn’t stop there, however, but began to laugh and shout “RI! RI! RI! RI! RI! RI! RI! RI!” for a full two minutes. Yano, who was next, joined in toward the end and then continued—“RI! RI! RI! RI! RI! RI! RI! RI! ”—for another three minutes or so, laughing so hard he fell off his seat and rolled on the floor. His spittle was a fine mist permeating the car when he finally sputtered: ringo . *
“Ringo?” Nobue growled, then fell silent, and a strange tension gripped the four players. “Why ringo?” he shouted. “Why not banana ?” † All of them laughed till fluids leaked from different orifices. Kato, who was next, repeated “GO! GO! GO! GO! GO! GO! GO!” twelve or fifteen times and then, seeing that everyone was too busy laughing to pay attention to him, began chanting the syllable to the rhythm of the train as it sped over the tracks—“GOGOGOGO! GOGOGOGO!”—finally finishing with the word gorufu . ‡ This process had taken another eight minutes.
When they reached Kumagaya Station even Sugiyama, who had been pouting all through the commotion on the train, came back to life and began dancing about, saying, “It’s the countryside! Even the station smells like country!” None of them knew what to do now, however. Intoxicated with Yano’s simple declaration—“You can buy a Tokarev in Kumagaya”—they had lost no time in liquidating all their assets and jumping on the Joetsu Line, but now what?
“Yano-rin, where do they sell the Tokarevs?” Nobue said, ceasing for the moment to jump up and down. Yano too had been bouncing around and shouting, “It’s the country! Outside the station is a barbecue stand, not a Parco!” but now he stopped abruptly, extracted a notebook organizer from his briefcase, and opened it.
“Sources indicate that Tokarevs can be purchased at a hardware store near the border with Gunma Prefecture for between fifty and a hundred thousand yen.”
“That’s the country for you!” Nobue said, and resumed jumping. “Where else can you can buy a handgun at a hardware store?”
They climbed on a bus to take them to the border. Each time the name of a local bus stop was announced, they clamped hands over their mouths to stifle their mirth. Though the resulting, oddly metallic ku, ku, ku, kutt! sound they made was plainly audible, the other passengers paid no attention whatsoever to the five of them. No matter how loudly they carried on, none of these young men ever stood out, imbued as they were with the aura of having been utterly ignored since childhood.
The border between Saitama and Gunma prefectures was an indescribably desolate and lonely place. Kato was reminded of a movie he’d watched with his father when he was a kid— The Last Picture Show . He felt like he was going to burst into tears, and then he actually did. Before them was a big river with wide banks where weeds rippled in the wind, and nearby were a large
With Yano guiding the way, the five set off, frolicking as if on their way to a used computer blowout sale, taking the Joetsu Line from Ueno to Kumagaya to purchase a certain weapon. On the train, they played shiritori , a simple game in which one person says a word and the next person uses the last syllable of that word as the first syllable for a new word, and so on. Sugiyama had lobbied for drop the hankie, but because of space considerations none of the others supported him, so he went into a snit, saying that if he couldn’t play his game he wouldn’t play shiritori either, and sat pouting and staring out the window at the scenery. The Limited Express took about forty minutes to reach Kumagaya from Ueno Station, and in that time they managed to advance only eight words. Ishihara, who had suggested they play shiritori, said, “I’ll start, then. The first word is shiritori. Next! Something that starts with ri .” He didn’t stop there, however, but began to laugh and shout “RI! RI! RI! RI! RI! RI! RI! RI!” for a full two minutes. Yano, who was next, joined in toward the end and then continued—“RI! RI! RI! RI! RI! RI! RI! RI! ”—for another three minutes or so, laughing so hard he fell off his seat and rolled on the floor. His spittle was a fine mist permeating the car when he finally sputtered: ringo . *
“Ringo?” Nobue growled, then fell silent, and a strange tension gripped the four players. “Why ringo?” he shouted. “Why not banana ?” † All of them laughed till fluids leaked from different orifices. Kato, who was next, repeated “GO! GO! GO! GO! GO! GO! GO!” twelve or fifteen times and then, seeing that everyone was too busy laughing to pay attention to him, began chanting the syllable to the rhythm of the train as it sped over the tracks—“GOGOGOGO! GOGOGOGO!”—finally finishing with the word gorufu . ‡ This process had taken another eight minutes.
When they reached Kumagaya Station even Sugiyama, who had been pouting all through the commotion on the train, came back to life and began dancing about, saying, “It’s the countryside! Even the station smells like country!” None of them knew what to do now, however. Intoxicated with Yano’s simple declaration—“You can buy a Tokarev in Kumagaya”—they had lost no time in liquidating all their assets and jumping on the Joetsu Line, but now what?
“Yano-rin, where do they sell the Tokarevs?” Nobue said, ceasing for the moment to jump up and down. Yano too had been bouncing around and shouting, “It’s the country! Outside the station is a barbecue stand, not a Parco!” but now he stopped abruptly, extracted a notebook organizer from his briefcase, and opened it.
“Sources indicate that Tokarevs can be purchased at a hardware store near the border with Gunma Prefecture for between fifty and a hundred thousand yen.”
“That’s the country for you!” Nobue said, and resumed jumping. “Where else can you can buy a handgun at a hardware store?”
They climbed on a bus to take them to the border. Each time the name of a local bus stop was announced, they clamped hands over their mouths to stifle their mirth. Though the resulting, oddly metallic ku, ku, ku, kutt! sound they made was plainly audible, the other passengers paid no attention whatsoever to the five of them. No matter how loudly they carried on, none of these young men ever stood out, imbued as they were with the aura of having been utterly ignored since childhood.
The border between Saitama and Gunma prefectures was an indescribably desolate and lonely place. Kato was reminded of a movie he’d watched with his father when he was a kid— The Last Picture Show . He felt like he was going to burst into tears, and then he actually did. Before them was a big river with wide banks where weeds rippled in the wind, and nearby were a large
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