Chapter 15

Side Story The Secret Name of Tomb of the Wild Chrysanthemum The news that Koumoto Books would be closing profoundly impacted Akio. He’d turned fifty-six this past year and had spent his youth in the small town in Tohoku where Koumoto Books was located. Standing in the gap between other buildings, the tall and slim bookstore wasn’t far from the station and was the first place the townsfolk went when they wanted to buy something to read. Akio had been a member of the kendo club in high school. As the so-called tough guys of the school, the kendo club members looked down on boys who liked literature as weaklings, would never set foot in a bookstore of their own volition, and didn’t even read books unless they had to write a summer book report. What had turned Koumoto Books into a sacred and bittersweet place for Akio, a special location that set his heart racing, was an unforgettable memory of one Eiko Outake. In those days, the town had only a girls’ high school and a boys’ high school, so the genders were naturally separated to study when they reached that point in their education. There were mixers held with the girls’ school all the time, but Akio was a tough guy, so after graduating from middle school, he never spoke to any girl who wasn’t in his own family. However, Akio secretly had eyes for one of the girls from the other school, who always passed by him riding her bicycle along the same route every morning. He’d never mentioned her to his friends or to anyone else. But the way the wind rustled her hair tied up in a ponytail on top of her head, how the collar of her sailor uniform and hem of her pleated skirt fluttered, and how she pumped the pedals with her feet, clad in white bobby socks and black loafers, left him breathless, with butterflies in his chest and a flush in his cheeks. Whenever a glimpse of the white nape of her neck or her slim calf leaped into his eyes, he felt guilty, as if he had seen something he shouldn’t. Yet at the same time, he also experienced a strange tickle, as if his heart were filling with some sacred emotion. For some reason, she was the only girl he could recognize even from far away. Akio started heading to school at the right time to coincide with when she would be passing by on her bicycle. From the gossip of his classmates, he knew that the girl was two years older than him, a third-year high school student named Eiko Outake. The polished and lovely Eiko was like the Madonna to all the high school boys in the area. Akio felt nothing but contempt for his classmates who sang Eiko’s praises. He considered it disrespectful to join them in their discussions, and he listened to them with a bitter look on his face. Back then, an older girl seemed utterly unattainable to a boy in high school. He felt like a child compared with Eiko. He couldn’t possibly hope to receive any attention from her, much less imagine dating a girl two years his senior. Simply watching Eiko pass by every morning on her bicycle was a joy for Akio, and he wished for nothing more. Just thinking about anything beyond that would be blasphemy. That’s why he was certain he was delusional when he happened to catch sight of Eiko parking her bike in front of Koumoto Books after school to go inside and found himself entering as well. Encountering Eiko at a different time and place than usual made him lose his cool and self-restraint in an instant, so he followed her giddily inside. “Welcome! A student, eh?” The man behind the register startled Akio by calling out to him loudly as he entered, nearly causing him to bump into the door with the kendo padding he was carrying on his back. Since he rarely went into bookstores, he couldn’t tell otherwise, but he wondered if the staff was always that energetic. It sounded just like the exuberant greetings he got from the greengrocer or the fishmonger. The staff member, who looked younger than Akio’s father and whom the people in the shop called “boss” or “mister,” shouted out cheerfully whenever a customer came in. “Mr. Yasuda, we got that new Hiroki Itsuki book you’ve been waiting for! I just love that Natsuko character. It was a touching story. Really moving! I recommend it.” “I tried reading The Inauspicious Skies, and I got really into it. It’s too good at getting you worked up!” “Hey, Miyo! Have you read Sazae-San Confidential?” He was greeting everyone like a good friend, and the people he spoke to also seemed to enjoy talking to him about books. Akio, who was always painstakingly deferential toward the upperclassmen in the rigidly hierarchical kendo club, was rather surprised. Is this what all liberal arts people are like? Or is this shop owner a special case? But Akio had more immediate problems. When the owner had greeted him, Eiko, who had entered the shop first, had turned around to look at him. The moment her eyes met his, he froze, stiff as a stone. I guess now Eiko knows I followed her, huh? If that were the case, she would certainly be disgusted by him. What do I do?! Though his breathing faltered and his back was soaked with sweat, Eiko immediately looked away and walked over to the literature corner without seeming to think anything about him at all. That’s right… Outake has no reason to know who I am. Even though he had escaped the crisis, that thought disappointed him. To Eiko, he must have been nothing more than a boy she didn’t know from another school who happened to be in the bookstore that day. She probably wasn’t even aware that she had been passing by Akio every day on her way to school as she nimbly pedaled her bicycle. That’s only natural. Fine by me. Besides, I never had a chance, being two years below her in school and all. I should just be glad I happened to see her and make eye contact today. On the one hand, it really stung to know that Eiko had never noticed him, but on the other hand, it emboldened him. What kind of books does Outake read? Let’s go take a look. With that thought, he stealthily followed her to a section of the store. Eiko was always on her bike when he saw her, so the mere sight of her slender legs as she walked was novel enough to set his heart pounding again. So svelte…and her hair flows so smoothly. She’s so pretty… She halted. With graceful movements, she picked up one of the slim books stacked on the shelf and slowly began turning its pages. Akio summoned up all his courage to stand next to Eiko. He, too, pulled a book off the shelf at random, opened it, and pretended to read. Of course, his attention was entirely focused on the girl standing next to him. Akio couldn’t even remember what book he had grabbed. He had never been in the habit of reading books, so he didn’t even know how he would choose one. Right now, anything would do. He simply glided his eyes over the words on the page, not bothering to absorb any of them. The side of his face in Eiko’s direction grew hot. It felt as if he were burning up. He didn’t even turn the pages. Moving his eyeballs back and forth frantically, he sneaked peeks at Eiko out of the corner of his eye, marveling that the girl who always cycled past him in a flash was right there beside him. Her pale skin with a light cover of downy hair. Her slim neck. The long eyelashes on her downcast eyes. Her elegant, ladylike nose. Her cherry-colored lips. His eyes drank it all in, and better yet, the sweet scent of her shampoo drifted over to him, too, making his heart leap. It wasn’t just his cheeks and ears anymore that were overheating; now it was his whole head. His heart was pounding wildly, so fast that he worried about whether Eiko could hear it. My breathing—am I panting like a wild animal? Do I stink of sweat, since I came here after practice? Are my hands and legs trembling badly? The longer he stood there, the more nervous he became. He wanted to get away from Eiko, but he also wanted to stay there by her side. This dilemma spiraled round and round in his mind until he felt as if he had been spinning in circles on the teacups ride at the amusement park. It’s hard to breathe. But I’m happy. Akio’s happiness continued until Eiko closed her book, took it to the register, and left the shop. “Oh! Tomb of the Wild Chrysanthemum, I see! Good choice. A perfect selection for a high school girl.” Akio could hear the cheerful voice of the man working the register. “Tomb of the Wild Chrysanthemum”…? That was the title of the book Eiko had been reading, and when he glanced down at the stack of books, he saw that they all had the same title. He returned the book in his hand to the shelf, not having turned a single page, then picked up a copy of Tomb of the Wild Chrysanthemum from the pile and carried it to the register without hesitation. The shopkeeper must have known exactly what was going on after seeing the same book cross the counter twice in a row, and he reacted with a broad grin. “Ah, well, that’s youth!” Realizing how stupid he was being, Akio felt his face grow hot again. But he had already brought the book up to the register. He had the man put a cover on it, then took it back, and when his fingers touched the volume, he recalled Eiko’s profile and felt a sweet sensation. By the time Akio left the shop, Eiko was already gone, but his heart was still pounding against the book clutched tight to his chest. Akio went home and immediately started reading Tomb of the Wild Chrysanthemum. The protagonist, Masao, is in love with his older cousin, Tamiko. She also has feelings for him, so their love is mutual. As the older of the two, Tamiko is bound by family circumstances beyond their control. To Akio’s surprise, Masao was fifteen and Tamiko was seventeen, the same ages as him and Eiko. It was probably a coincidence, but it immediately aroused his empathy. The people in their village gossiped about the fact that Tamiko was two years older and had suggested separating the two cousins. Akio’s whole body was tense as he read because he understood Masao’s emotions all too well. His heart raced as he mentally overlayed the charms of Tamiko and Eiko. “I think I must be a reincarnated chrysanthemum flower. Every time I see one, I love it so much I start shaking.” “You like them that much, Tamiko? …No wonder you’re like a flower.” “Masao…what about me is like a flower?” “Well, it’s not any specific thing, but somehow you do seem like a chrysanthemum blossom.” “So that’s why you like chrysanthemums, Masao…?” “I love them.” Akio’s chest grew unbearably hot as he read their exchange. He had never gotten so absorbed in reading a book before. This was the first time he’d felt as if a book had been written just for him. Even after that, Akio never exchanged words with Eiko, and they never made eye contact again. When she would pass him on her bicycle in the mornings on her way to school, he would remember their miraculous meeting at Koumoto Books and watch her go, spellbound. It had certainly been a moment of joy that day, in that place surrounded by books. He would never forget that precious memory. It made his heart leap with delight. That vibrant, glistening, bittersweet memory. Eventually, Eiko graduated, and he heard she had gone on to university in Kyoto. Akio also graduated high school two years later and went to university in Tokyo. He’d stayed in the city, where he’d found a job and gotten married, but his wife had passed away before him. He didn’t have any children, so now, in his midfifties, he was living alone. He had become used to it, and living by himself in the city was pleasant enough. But sometimes, when he felt lonesome, Akio would reread Tomb of the Wild Chrysanthemum. His marriage to his deceased wife had been arranged by his boss at work, and it had been a loving relationship in its own way. Nevertheless, he knew there was always a place in the bottom of his heart for the girl he had known once, back in his first year of high school. “Whenever the last month of the year comes around, I just can’t help but think of her. I know we were young at the time, but somehow I can’t seem to forget about it.” “More than ten years have passed and it’s already ancient history; so many of the details are a blur, but the feelings are as clear as if it happened yesterday. When I recall that time, I’m entirely transported back to what I was feeling then, and my tears won’t stop flowing.” “There were both happy and sad times, so I never thought I would forget them. But the more I think of them, the more desperately I crave to return to those dreamlike days.” The opening monologue of the book touched him even more deeply in his fifties than it had in his teens. Although four decades had passed, the memory of standing next to Eiko in Koumoto Books was still fresh in Akio’s mind. He’d assumed that happy place would always be there. But when he’d spoken on the phone to his parents, who were living with his older brother’s family in their hometown, the news of its closing had shaken him. “Oh yes, the third-generation owner of Koumoto Books passed away. They’re going to close up shop. A shame, since it’s the last bookstore in town.” Koumoto Books is closing? The place that held my memory with her is going to disappear? “Well, you’ve never been one for reading books, so that’s got nothing to do with you, I suppose.” He’d barely heard his mother’s words. When he searched for Koumoto Books online, emotional statements from residents lamenting the closing of the town’s last bookstore came up one after another. He’d found comments from people who had left town as well, expressing their shock that Koumoto Books would be no more. The internet was full of messages from people saying they had always thought it would be there forever. He discovered that the store would be open for one final week before closing at the end of March. There were also postings by the shop itself, encouraging people to come during that time and bring their favorite books to take commemorative photographs or to write about their memories associated with those books on colorful paper signs. Koumoto Books is really going under! Akio couldn’t sit still, so he took leave from work and went home. His parents and brother had been surprised to hear that he had come back to visit the business before it closed. After all, as his mother had said, Akio had lived a life that had nothing to do with bookstores. He made some perfunctory excuse to his family, tucked his worn-out, yellowed copy of Tomb of the Wild Chrysanthemum into his coat pocket, and set off to visit the store for the first time in over forty years. It was already the end of March, but compared with Tokyo, winter in Tohoku was long and harsh. He was still cold despite his thick winter coat, and his breath came out white. Since he’d forgotten how to walk on snowy roads, he slipped and nearly fell down many times along the way. I’ve gotten old. This is totally different from back then, when I was in shape and never missed a kendo practice… Basking in emotional memories, Akio arrived at the slim, three-story bookseller tucked in between buildings on both sides. Despite the passing of the years, the moment he saw the glass door with the name KOUMOTO BOOKS stenciled on it, he could almost see a vision of the girl in a ponytail parking her bike out front, opening the door, and going inside. Without meaning to, he put his hand over his heart and stood stock-still. With his heart pounding just as hard as it had back then, he pushed the door open. “Welcome!” A boy at the first-floor register was wearing large glasses and an apron, and he cheerfully greeted Akio. His soft-looking black hair bounced lightly when he moved. He looked like a high schooler working part-time. The way he clearly and brightly informed the customers about the closing sale was reminiscent of the good-humored, jovial second owner. That man had suddenly taken ill and had passed away young. And now his son, who had inherited the shop after him, had lost his life to an unfortunate accident. The last bookstore in town would soon be closing up shop. Near the entrance, rare titles and books signed by visiting authors were on display. One that stood out among them was A Funeral for Kanoyama Books, a bestseller from about twenty years ago that had been so popular that even Akio, who didn’t read books, knew its title and basic story. The author, Kouichi Tamogami, was from this town, and there was even a signed copy in his parents’ house. Such a famous guy held a signing in a place like this, huh…? I guess books were really booming back then… It had been an era when everyone was reading and talking about books, and bookstores had a real sheen to them. The same was true of Akio. It had been a youthful time, when his heart had danced and his cheeks had flushed, and he’d felt love bubbling up inside himself. Back then, he had been really inexperienced and awkward. If I had been who I am now, I bet I could have acted a little slicker around Eiko… Akio had heard that, after graduating from university, she had gotten married in Kyoto. So maybe— But that was nothing more than a pointless daydream. He smiled bitterly at himself for fantasizing as the boy in glasses explained how to write a paper sign for the store’s closing sale. “Did you bring a book with you today?” the boy asked. Feeling awkward, Akio pulled Tomb of the Wild Chrysanthemum from his pocket. “It’s not a book for an old guy like me, but I was young once, too, forty years ago.” Behind his glasses, the boy’s eyes widened slightly. With an expression as if he was straining his ears to hear something, he stared at the image of a chrysanthemum on the cover. What’s going on? He wondered if the boy was surprised to see that a man in his fifties had been holding on dearly to Tomb of the Wild Chrysanthemum. As Akio stood there, regretting showing anyone his book, the boy’s big eyes suddenly shifted and looked up at him, sparkling behind his lenses. “Sir, by any chance, were you in the kendo club?” “Huh? Uh, yeah…in high school.” Why would he ask something like that? And how did he know I was in the kendo club? With an even more cheerful expression than before, the boy shouted happily, “I knew it! Sir, thank you so much for reading this book over and over until it got this worn out! The book is very happy about it.” The boy bowed deeply to him as he said these words of thanks, as if he was a friend of the book itself. “I’m certain this is the book’s way of returning the favor. There’s someone here who has been waiting for you. Please come with me.” As he came out from behind the register, the boy seemed impassioned, as if he might run off at any second. Akio was dumbfounded. What the…? What on earth is happening? “Wait, Enoki!” Startled, the other staff member who had been behind the register shouted after him. “Sorry, Ms. Tsuburaya! The book is saying this can’t wait! I’ll be right back!” With a smile of boundless cheer on his face, the boy answered the clever-looking woman whom he had called Tsuburaya. Still bewildered, Akio quickened his pace at the boy’s urging. Someone waiting? A book returning a favor? I don’t get it at all. What’s this kid talking about? “Hey, kid, who the heck—” —are you? He didn’t get to finish his question, because just then the boy turned around, and with happiness glistening in his eyes behind his glasses, he said— “I am a voice for books!” Akio was even more confused than before, and the small, bespectacled clerk hurried on ahead impatiently, his black hair bouncing softly and the hem of his store apron fluttering. He went straight down the aisle to the literature section on the first floor, then turned and turned again. He was headed for the paperbacks area, where a desk had been set up for people to create their paper signs. Right in front of them was a slim woman bent over the table, writing on her sign. The moment Akio saw her, his heart nearly stopped. Forty-one years had passed, but he knew her at a glance. She had kept her looks—her downturned eyes, her graceful neck, her elegant nose and mouth. And even now, after more than forty years, she still projected an elegance like a blossoming flower. Eiko Outake! The girl on the bike! He tightened his grip on the copy of Tomb of the Wild Chrysanthemum in his hand. The employee with the glasses called out to the woman in a sunny voice. “Ms. Outake!” Eiko lifted her head and looked at Akio. Their eyes met, just as they had years earlier. Back then, Eiko had quickly averted her eyes, but this time she kept them on Akio’s face and opened them wide. She put one pale hand to her mouth and made an expression as if she couldn’t believe what was happening. In Akio’s hand was his battered and yellowed paperback copy of Tomb of the Wild Chrysanthemum. When Eiko saw it, her eyes opened even wider in surprise, and she bit her lip hard, as if trying to keep her emotions from overflowing. She grabbed a book that was sitting on the table and turned the cover toward Akio. That’s Tomb of the Wild Chrysanthemum! It was the same book as the one Akio was holding, in the same size, with the same cover, and it was equally beat-up and yellowed. As if a strong force drew the copy of Tomb of the Wild Chrysanthemum in Akio’s hand to the copy Eiko was holding, he walked right past the boy in the glasses as if in a trance until he was face-to-face with Eiko. She approached him in the same way. And then, for the first time ever— —fifty-six-year-old Akio and fifty-eight-year-old Eiko stood opposite each other and exchanged words. “So those two have been in love with each other this whole time, huh?” Minami had chased after Musubu, and now she was watching in amazement as the pair in their fifties stood in front of the table in the literature corner, conversing awkwardly. Musubu had filled her in after she’d arrived, and she’d been even more surprised. About thirty minutes earlier, a beautiful woman had come into the shop carrying a copy of Tomb of the Wild Chrysanthemum, and when Musubu had pried for more information about it, Minami had overheard her bashful answer. “This book is a memento of someone I liked when I was in high school. “I passed him frequently in the mornings on my way to school, though I was on my bicycle. He was in the kendo club and always carried a bag with his pads in it on his back. That made him look very manly, and my heart would start pounding every time I passed him. “His name and class were written on his kendo bag, so I knew he was two years younger than me, and I tried desperately to make sure he never became aware of my feelings. Back then, things were different, and I couldn’t have casually dated a boy two years my junior, you see.” She’d spoken happily about the one and only time she’d happened to see him in Koumoto Books. The boy had followed her right after she’d entered the store and had stood next to her for a long time reading a book. “That day, I actually came in to buy some manga on the third floor, but once I knew he had seen me, I tried to show off. I walked over to the literature corner, a section I normally never went to, and the book I happened to pick up was this one, Tomb of the Wild Chrysanthemum. “Just like us, Tamiko was two years older than Masao. I knew the plot already, but that was the first time I had ever read it properly… The exchanges between the characters made me feel bittersweet. “I read it over and over again, and I always felt sad at the ending and cried. “If Tamiko had been the same age as Masao, they might have gotten married…” The woman had once been married, but they had never been able to have children and had divorced ten years ago. Now she operated a nail salon in Tokyo. Even now, she sometimes reread Tomb of the Wild Chrysanthemum and recalled the sweet and wonderful thing that had taken place at Koumoto Books, setting her heart aflutter. “I’m sure that boy got married long ago and probably has children, too. But we’re all free to imagine, after all.” She had smiled gracefully as she said that. Musubu seemed amused when he told the pair, “Come to think of it, it’s interesting that the book Eiko has goes by ‘Masao,’ while the book Akio has is ‘Tamiko.’” She had “Masao.” He had “Tamiko.” Each one of them had taken great care of the book they owned. “Even among books with the same title, each copy has its own gender and a different personality. In your case, the feelings you had for one another probably influenced your books, pushing them toward one role or the other. That’s why I’m sure it was inevitable that the two of you would meet again here at Koumoto Books,” he asserted with a bright smile. Books have personalities, and he can hear their voices? I knew there was something weird about this guy. Minami was getting irritated at how Musubu was speaking as if this all somehow made perfect sense. But the thought of two people who bought the same titles at Koumoto Books being tied together does make me happy… The books pulling toward and calling out for each other. It would be nice if it were true. “I think books have a power to bind people together.” Emon had frequently told that to Minami in his calm, gentle voice as he poured tea in the gray office that smelled of flowers. “People who read the same books empathize with each other and become closer. The books become a starting point for conversation… One person gives a book that is special and important to them to another… “People can make real connections through books like that. I think it’s wonderful to be able to help that happen.” I’m sure the boss would be smiling if he were here now… “I heard Tamiko and Masao calling out bravely to each other over and over again, and my heart was touched. Old romance novels are so naive and adorable, aren’t they?” Musubu’s eyes narrowed happily behind his lenses, almost as if he himself had been linked to somebody by love. He looks a little like the boss when he does that… “I am a voice for books.” Minami had also heard Musubu jovially make this declaration—his tone and words, so much like something Emon would have said, had caused her chest to tighten… Suddenly, Musubu started up again. “Huh! No, you’re wrong—I’m not cheating, Princess Yonaga!” From his apron pocket, he frantically produced a slim volume with a blue cover and started making excuses. “It’s true! I just thought it was kind of cute, that’s all, but not in like a ‘love’ kind of way— Come on, you’re exactly my type, and you know it. An oleander flower excites me way more than a simple chrysanthemum or bellflower— No, I don’t mean to say that you’re a poisonous flower, Princess— I love you, all right, so stop cursing me!” Minami stood beside him, grimacing. Ah, I really can’t stand this guy. I don’t get how someone can actually believe he’s capable of talking with books, much less dating them. Still, Musubu looked funny darting his eyes around and breaking out into a sweat as he groveled to his “girlfriend.” Ever so slightly—just a tiny bit, really—Minami smiled.