The Ten Loves of Nishino

by Hiromi Kawakami

  “Yukihiko, why did you come here with me?” I asked. The tide was coming in. The entire ocean had expanded in the night, and it felt as if the air had become much more condensed and heavy.

  “Why did I . . . ?” Yukihiko replied leisurely.

  I rested my head against Yukihiko’s shoulder. His arm remained where it was, without embracing me. I was the one who put my arm around Yukihiko’s waist and held him.

  “It’s hot,” Yukihiko said.

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “Kanoko, are you happy now?” Yukihiko asked suddenly. Are you lonely or are you happy?—just like the leader of a religious cult.

  “Hey, let’s go back to the inn and have sex,” I said, ignoring Yukihiko’s question.

  “Let’s not,” Yukihiko replied, letting his arm remain limp.

  “Then, why did you come here, Yukihiko?”

  “Kanoko, maybe you’re a nymphomaniac?”

  “Drop dead, Yukihiko.”

  My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and I could now faintly make out the ocean moving in the night. The surface of the water was smooth. That smoothness was inching up the shore.

  Yukihiko put his arm around my shoulder. He held me softly at first, then gradually with more strength. I remembered what Yukihiko’s had body felt like when we were lovers, and the way he used to make love to me. I remembered the way that I had loved Yukihiko. I remembered it very clearly. But in the midst of remembering, I also realized that, here, in the present moment, I had never completely lost the sensation of these things.

  “Yukihiko,” I said softly. How many years had it been since I had called his name like that.

  “Kanoko,” Yukihiko said, his voice deep.

  We stayed like that for a long time, holding each other’s shoulder and waist tightly. The waves had come almost all the way up to our feet.

  Yukihiko’s lips grazed my cheek. I planted a light kiss on his neck.

  “The night seems immense, doesn’t it?”

  “It does.”

  “Yukihiko, you know I love you.”

  “Me too, I’ll always love you, Kanoko.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “It’s no use,” Yukihiko said without hesitation, still holding my shoulder tightly.

  “Huh?”

  “It’s over between us.”

  I made another idiotic sound.

  “It’s over, don’t you know,” Yukihiko said, with warmth in his voice.

  “Is it really over?” I repeated, like an idiot.

  “It is,” Yukihiko reiterated.

  I felt as if my mind had gone completely blank.

  It was true, I thought. Yukihiko and I, we weren’t far apart, but we were each in our respective places, separate from one another.

  And although I was here now, and Yukihiko was here too, that was all it meant.

  That was all. Time had passed, and we were still broken up, here on this beach and everywhere else.

  Time is an idiot, I thought, as I was seized by a tremendous sense of powerlessness.

  Yukihiko and I, we were like idiots. Everyone—we were all idiots, I thought, as I wrapped my arms even tighter around Yukihiko’s waist.

  “Why is it that we can’t make it work, even though we love each other?” I asked, even though I knew that the answer didn’t matter.

  “It’s because I’m helpless,” Yukihiko replied quietly.

  “Helpless?”

  Yukihiko was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Kanoko, I really loved you.”

  The tide had come in, and our legs were wet. I wondered how long the driftwood we were sitting on had been there. It must have always been in the same spot, without being swept away, even when the ocean was rough and the waves were high.

  Yukihiko and I too lingered, unmoving in the night, like something that had been on this beach for a long time. I could feel Yukihiko’s heartbeat reverberating throughout his entire body. I wondered if that tiny crab had made it back to its hole.

  “It’s getting cold, Yukihiko.”

  “Let’s stay like this a little longer.”

  “Nuh-uh, let’s go back to the inn,” I said slowly. My mind was still a blank.

  “Is that a good idea?”

  “Let’s go back to the inn, and go to bed like a good boy and girl.”

  Yukihiko laughed. He patted my head. Yukihiko, I murmured his name. Deep in my heart.

  “Let’s stay like this a little longer,” Yukihiko said.

  Okay, I nodded.

  “The lights offshore are pretty,” I said, in a blank voice.

  “They are pretty,” Yukihiko agreed.

  “I wish the night tide would just keep coming in forever.”

  I wished the night tide would come in, and we’d be submerged, and then we’d turn into tiny crabs. And once we became crabs—without knowing about one another—when the tide went out, we’d come out of our holes, and when it came in, we’d return.

  Now I could feel Yukihiko’s heartbeat reverberating throughout my entire body.

  “Yukihiko,” I said out loud. I tried to condense all of the kindness I felt at that moment into my voice.

  “Huh?”

  “Yukihiko,” I said again. This time as quietly as I could, keeping my tone neutral.

  “Huh?”

  Ever so quietly, traces of Yukihiko and of me spread out toward the night tide.

  Yukihiko. I said his name one more time. This time I made no sound at all.

  Yukihiko. It’s a shame we can’t go back. Yukihiko. Time goes on, and I’m lonely. Yukihiko. We were idiots, weren’t we?

  Every so often the waves made a crashing sound, and then would recede. The tide came in even further. In the night, my heart was racing, on and on, forever.

  THE KINGDOM AT SUMMER’S END

  It was summer.

  I’d really like to have sex with him, I thought.

  This always happened. When I looked at a boy (no matter how much older they might be, any man who aroused lust in me would always be considered a “boy”), the first thought that entered my mind was almost never, I could fall in love with someone like him. My first thought was likely to be something much more matter-of-fact—such as, I want him to wrap his arms around the nape of my neck or, I’d like to tear a fresh-baked loaf of bread in half and devour it with him or, I’d like to take his fingers in my mouth.

  In Nishino’s case, frankly, what I thought was, I’d like to have sex with him.

  So I told him.

  “Hey, let’s do it,” I said.

  “Where?” Nishino asked in reply. I thought it was notable that he didn’t ask, Do what?

  Do you live alone, Nishino? I asked.

  I’ve been on my own since I went to university, Nishino replied. All alone, for more than ten years now.

  Before going to Nishino’s apartment, I bought a toothbrush and a pair of underwear at a convenience store. When I came over to where Nishino was standing, flipping through a magazine, he grinned at me.

  “Are you staying over?” Nishino asked.

  “I have what I need to stay over, but if you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

  Hmm, Nishino muttered. But if you don’t stay over, then the toothbrush and underwear will go to waste.

  I can take them home, so it’s fine, I replied. I go through, like, a toothbrush a week. I brush really hard.

  You go through toothbrushes, do you? Nishino had started walking, and he laughed as he spoke. Does that mean you go through underwear as quickly too, Sunaga? Nishino had taken my hand.

  You can call me Reiko, I said, squeezing his hand in return.

  Reiko, dear. Reiko. Rei. Nishino murmured, as though he were testing these out. Rei is good, right? It gives the sense of your whole person, and it su
its you too. Nishino touched the top of my head. My hair was stiff, and the whorl at the back of my head stood straight up. Even though I had done my best to smooth over it with my pixie cut.

  I like the nape of your neck, Rei, Nishino said. And then he quickened his step. Nishino’s entire body exuded a sense of anticipation. That itself made me incredibly happy. Hurry up, I want it, I recited to myself as I broke into a little trot to keep up with him. Beads of sweat trickled down the backs of both my and Nishino’s neck.

  Ah, Nishino said.

  Dressed neatly in a suit, Nishino cut a handsome figure. I see, I thought to myself, impressed. This is a guy who operates squarely within society. I was impressed, because here I was, half-naked, tightly embracing him. Inside his front door. It was the next morning.

  “It must have fallen somewhere,” Nishino said, gently peeling my body off of him.

  “What?” I asked.

  “The key.”

  “Whose key?”

  Nishino didn’t reply. He had stooped down and was fumbling around on the concrete floor of the entryway.

  “The one from my last girlfriend,” Nishino said, after searching for a bit longer.

  “Your last one?” I asked.

  “The last one. Or rather, the girlfriend I’m in the process of breaking up with.”

  The girlfriend you’re in the process of breaking up with? Sounds complicated, I murmured, and Nishino nodded his head subtly. He kept looking even as he nodded.

  Since we are breaking up, I thought she must have given it back . . . Surely.

  It was the way he said “Surely” that made Nishino seem like he was a square.

  Hey, I can look for it for you. It’s just a regular key, right? I asked. Nishino stood up.

  Okay, if you don’t mind. He hurriedly opened the door and rushed out into the hallway.

  Now that he was gone, I sat down on the ledge by the front door and reflected upon Nishino’s body. Having sex with Nishino had been kind of great. Not fantastic. But still kind of great.

  “He acts cool, but then he also seems like a hard worker,” I muttered. There it was. I had a good feeling about Nishino. This guy who acted cool, but who was a surprisingly hard worker.

  I found the key. It was a pretty key, shiny and silver. Seemed like it had hardly been used. I tried to imagine just what kind of girl would suit Nishino well. What kind of hair. What kind of face. How tall. How she would talk. How she would move. What kind of personality. I considered each of these things.

  It was a habit of mine. This speculation wasn’t because I had fallen in love with Nishino. It was more likely due to the nature of my job. I made a living from writing novels—ones that were not quite for children and not quite for grown-ups. My books didn’t sell all that well, but well enough that I could live on my own without being impoverished.

  Once I had thoroughly worked out all the particulars of “a girl who would suit Nishino,” I put the key on the dining table and slipped back into Nishino’s bed. I pulled a novel from Nishino’s shelves—The Broken Commandment by Toson Shimazaki—and leafed through it. In addition to The Broken Commandment, Nishino’s bookshelves contained Pregnant Fiction by Minako Saito and The World According to Garp by John Irving, along with several new-looking business-related books.

  This boy is not easy to pin down, I thought to myself as I opened The Broken Commandment to the beginning and gazed at the words on the page.

  At some point I fell asleep. Nestled in the sheets that still smelled of Nishino’s and my skin from the night before, and with The Broken Commandment still in my hand, I drifted in and out of a light slumber.

  Nishino didn’t come home from the office until after eleven o’clock that night. When he saw me sitting at the dining table with my laptop computer open, he looked momentarily surprised, but his expression quickly regained its composure. Nothing seemed to disturb Nishino’s placidity.

  “Welcome home,” I ventured.

  He uttered some kind of sound in response. I asked him to clarify what that sound meant—I usually say whatever is in my head.

  “Well, what would you like me to say?” Nishino asked, sounding a little bit baffled.

  “Most people would be upset when a woman they’ve had sex with just once settles in to stay.”

  “Ah.”

  “That’s what I mean—‘Ah’ is not much of a response!”

  “Ah.”

  Now Nishino seemed truly lost. He must have been tired. If I had to leave the house before eight in the morning and work all day, not getting home until eleven at night, I’d collapse after a day or two. It was understandable.

  “If I’m bothering you—really, just say so,” I shut off my computer and closed it. A light breeze billowed the curtains, ever so slightly. You would think that by this time it would have cooled off a bit but, even late at night, the Tokyo summer air was still heavy, laden with humidity.

  “Should I turn on the air conditioning?” I ventured.

  Ah, Nishino replied with the same tone. I shut the window, firmly adjusting the curtain, and switched it on, using the remote control. The hum of the air conditioner started up abruptly. Nishino stared idly at the ceiling as he loosened his tie with one hand, took off his shirt, neatly hung his pants on a hanger, and then headed for the bathroom. He moved as if he were an automated doll.

  “I’ll take a bath with you,” I said, and Nishino nodded mildly.

  “It’s not bothersome to go in together?” I hazarded to ask, since Nishino’s expression was as vague as ever.

  “What do you mean, ‘bothersome?’”

  “What do you mean, ‘what do you mean?’”

  “Rei, you’re kind of like an animal, aren’t you?”

  Me, an animal? I thought. But from my perspective, it was Nishino who seemed more like an animal. If he wanted to seem more human, he’d need to exhibit more human actions and statements.

  Nishino ran the hot water, dutifully scrubbing down the tub with a sponge before filling the bath.

  Why don’t you go first, Rei, Nishino said as he sank into the sofa, now wearing only his briefs and undershirt.

  Let’s take one together, I reiterated. We can wash each other, scrub each other’s backs, massage the pressure points on each other’s feet.

  Nishino smiled with a sense of reticence.

  It’s cramped in there, so I think you’ll be more comfortable if you go in alone, Nishino said.

  Bathing alone is boring, I replied. I’ve been here on my own all day long. Now that you’re home, I thought we could take a bath together.

  “No, I prefer to bathe by myself,” Nishino said in a shy voice.

  “See, now, you should have said so before!”

  “Huh?”

  “Things are much easier when you say what you really think.”

  “Just like you do, Rei.”

  Yup, I replied as I opened the door to the bathroom. Most people can’t actually say exactly what they really think—but I still didn’t get why everyone always shied away from speaking even a fraction of what’s in their head. I mean, it’s not as if you’re going to be punished just for saying one or even two percent of what you’re thinking.

  I immersed myself in the hot water, curling my body into a ball. I heated up right away, so I washed myself and my hair perfunctorily, then dunked myself in the tub once more, and hurriedly left the bathroom.

  That was really fast, Nishino said, widening his eyes. I thought all girls took long baths.

  “I’m not such a fan of baths.”

  “Is that so?” Nishino murmured. How old are you again, Rei? Are you about the same age as me, around thirty? He asked, his tone noncommittal.

  “I’m older than you are.”

  Hmm, Nishino said. He didn’t question me any further. Though I wouldn’t have minded if he had
. Maybe he was uninterested. Or maybe he figured that all women were distressed about their age.

  “Do you mind if I have a beer?” I asked.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Should we share it?”

  Ah, Nishino replied, somewhat more forcefully than he had before. This “Ah” contained within it Nishino’s own volition, the first I had heard since he had come home.

  Hurry up and take your bath. I’ll wait for you, I said, unraveling the towel from around my head and waving it like a flag. Nishino headed toward the bathroom, shedding his briefs and undershirt. He let out an audible sigh as he stretched. I heard the bathroom door close.

  Nishino took a long time in the bath. The can of beer I had taken out was gradually losing its chill so I put it back in the refrigerator. I must have fallen asleep, sprawled diagonally on the sofa. The next thing I knew, droplets of water were trickling down onto me from Nishino just above me, as he pulled out the towel that was twisted around my body. My eyes opened and met his, “Come on in,” I said, and he chuckled.

  We had sex, briefly. Not fantastic, but kind of great sex. After we had finished, as promised, we drank a beer together. The can had rechilled, and was nice and frosty. I drank mine down in one go. Nishino stared at me as I tossed it back.

  Are you staying over tonight too, Rei? Nishino asked.

  I’m not sure . . . I don’t have any deadlines at the moment, so I could stay, I said, and Nishino nodded. Then he ruffled my hair, tousling it right at the spot on top of my head where it stood up straight.

  I was at Nishino’s apartment for five days. Friday was usually when I received a fax with corrections to my manuscript, so after I’d seen Nishino off to work, I gathered my things (the underwear that I had washed three times, the toothbrush that was already half frayed, and my laptop that I always carried with me), quickly swept the apartment, and locked the door behind me. I tossed the key back through the newspaper box on the door, and headed for my own apartment.

  Once I boarded the train that I hadn’t ridden for a while, my time at Nishino’s apartment began to feel like something from the distant past. Regardless of how clearly I could recall the days I spent there. Nishino’s body, Nishino’s gaze, Nishino’s words. Yet the moment I was no longer there, all of it became distant somehow.