I put the gun and the black cloth away in the satchel, and went out to buy something for dinner. There was a chill in the air, and having worn nothing over my shirt, I was cold. I lit a cigarette, and set out at a leisurely pace anyway. The sky was overcast with enormous clouds that obscured the moon and the stars.
I got as far as the convenience store, and then just kept going. I could have easily shopped there, but I felt like walking on further. Along the way, I bought a can of coffee from a vending machine and sipped it. I had wandered onto a narrow street lined with residences that I continued to follow, cutting through a bicycle parking lot and going over a railroad crossing. I passed several people, and almost collided with someone whizzing by on a bicycle. The rider was a young guy, and I sort of wished I had kicked his front tire. I walked pretty far and wore myself out, so I found a narrow concrete step built into the wall of a building and sat down. I berated myself a bit, wondering why I had kept walking to the point of exhaustion.
Just then, I saw a uniformed policeman riding toward me on a bicycle. He appeared to be on a neighborhood patrol, his gaze following his surroundings as he decelerated. Once he noticed me, our eyes met and held as he slowly approached. I was a little startled, but I reminded myself that this didn’t mean anything, and I tried to manage an attitude of nonchalance. I was sitting by myself, on an empty back street, past ten o’clock at night. In such a situation, there was no reason a cop wouldn’t question me. Conscious of trying to convince myself to be relieved, I braced for the officer. Thinking that it would seem even more suspicious to act as though I didn’t see him, I stared back at him with a bland expression, trying to project a look that casually implied that it was unusual to see a policeman around here.
“Is anything the matter here?” he began by saying. I realized he was actually questioning me, and I felt slightly annoyed. He was young, probably almost the same age as I was, I figured. I had expected him to have a look of righteous and fearless determination, but he wore glasses that made his eyes seem round, and his cheeks were a little puffy. I took a drag off the cigarette in my hand, and exhaled the smoke into the air. Then I decided to act like someone who had been drinking.
“No, I’m a little drunk, so I’m just taking a break here. I’m about to be on my way.”
“Ah, I see, but, it’s not safe around here, so you should hurry up and get home.”
“Not safe? Did something happen?”
“Lately there’s been a high incidence of purse snatchings. Targeting young women, though.”
“Purse snatchings? Oh, now that you mention it, I’ve seen a lot of flyers on billboards.”
“That’s right. Well, even men should be careful, it could happen at any time, so please be on your way.”
“Yes, I understand. Thank you for your trouble.”
“Not at all. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He gave a slight bow in my direction and then started to pedal off again somewhere on his bicycle. He seemed uninterested in me. I felt a little buzz, perhaps from talking to the cop. It may have come from the nervous tension I felt about the gun in my apartment and my relief that the conversation was over. Giving myself over to the excitement, I called after the policeman. He braked, turning only his head to say, “What is it?” My mood was extremely high — I was aware of a desire, for some reason, to curry favor with this guy. I realized I was getting carried away, but I felt no need to restrain myself.
“Um, were drugs found around here, by any chance?”
“What?”
“I mean, were there drugs, or something, found around here?”
Hearing my question, the cop’s expression shifted, and he dismounted from his bicycle and approached me again. I noticed that his demeanor seemed slightly different. I was a little nervous, but at the same time, I was curious to see what would happen next.
“Excuse me, but why would you ask such a thing?”
“No, lately, I’ve seen policemen with dogs around. Are they called sniffer dogs? So, I just figured that’s what it was. That something like that might have happened.”
“Yes, but I’m not able to provide more details about the investigation. I’m sorry. The truth is, I don’t know the details myself. However, a few days ago, in fact, the Tokyo Police arrested someone involved with a drug-related gang. Excuse me but, uh, why do you ask. .?” he said, as he started to study my face.
I wondered what the cop would do if I were to panic right now, but of course I didn’t do that. I calmly smoked my cigarette, and gave a little smile. It made me aware of the nervous tension I was holding inside.
“I’m working on alternate theories for my thesis. I’m studying data on preventive measures for drugs and suicide, which is why I was wondering.”
“Your thesis? For university?”
“That’s right. My professor doesn’t rely on books alone, he tells us we should go to the police and juvenile detention centers. So I just thought I would ask you. I’m sorry. I guess I do tend to get chatty when I drink.”
He seemed unimpressed by what I said, but he also seemed to register relief. He gave a brief sigh and said, “I’d like to be of assistance but I have work to do myself.” Then he told me again, “You should go home as soon as possible.” I thanked him, and walked in the opposite direction of the cop. I thought that he too might have enjoyed that a little.
While I was walking, I thought about how much more nervous I would have been had I been carrying the gun with me. I probably would have been so anxious and scared, I wouldn’t have been able to bear it. Needless to say, I didn’t enjoy fear and anxiety for their own sake, but it piqued my interest, as it were, when they were mixed in with excitement. Maybe I should start walking around with the gun when I felt like it. Maybe that would lead to further discoveries.
Finally, I went into a convenience store and bought a bento and a juice, and headed back to my building. My legs were tired, and my heels ached. As I approached my door, I was a little surprised to see light coming through the small window of the kitchen of the apartment next door. It had been vacant until a few days earlier, when a moving company had brought in someone’s belongings, but I had been unaware of signs that anyone was living there. I had thought that they must have rented it as a sort of storeroom or something, but tonight I realized that someone had moved in. Mine was the innermost apartment on the ground floor; sometimes I heard sounds from above, but until now it had been relatively quiet. I had a bad feeling, but reminded myself there wasn’t anything I could do. I unlocked my front door and went into the apartment. I could hear noise, a child’s voice mixed in with what must have been the sound of the television. Feeling bummed out, I turned up the volume on a Stones album to drown out the sounds. Then I thought about Yuko Yoshikawa, and wondered when I should call her.
7
After my lecture ended, I searched for Yuko Yoshikawa. Thinking I would run into her accidentally-on-purpose, I went to the cafeteria, and checked out each of several smoking areas on the quad. It didn’t really matter to me whether or not I saw her, but I searched valiantly. Since she was a literature major, I even walked through her department’s building, but was still unable to find her. I was just about to give up when it occurred to me to try calling her cell phone. I knew that I didn’t need to go to such ends, but once I commit to doing something, I like to follow it through faithfully, so I thought I’d see if she wanted to have lunch. As I listened to the ringing tone, I noted how high my motivation level was today. And whatever the reason for it, being motivated wasn’t such a bad thing.