The Ten Loves of Nishino

by Hiromi Kawakami

  Take care of yourself, Nishino. I stopped walking.

  You too, Rei, take care. Nishino hurried through the ticket gate and was gone. He didn’t look back.

  I watched Nishino until he disappeared from sight. When I happened to look down at my feet, a cicada was lying there, belly up. I nudged it gently with the tip of my shoe, and the cicada moved slightly.

  Soon it started to buzz.

  As I was watching, the cicada’s drone grew louder. When I nudged it once more with my toe, it quivered its wings and took off in flight.

  The cicada flew up into the sky. The faint hum of its wings lingered in my ears.

  OSAKA TOWER

  Subaru had the softest hair.

  I loved to play with Subaru’s hair. But Subaru told me she hated to have her hair touched. No matter who the one touching it was. Like, she wouldn’t even want the person she loved the most in this world to softly caress her hair, she declared. Subaru tended to make declarations very easily.

  But I knew better. There was one time when Nishino was stroking Subaru’s hair, and I heard a faint sound coming from deep in Subaru’s throat. It sounded like a cat purring with pleasure. And like a cat, Subaru stretched out her back as she sat on the floor. Nishino shifted his caress to her back in one long stroke, even reaching her buttocks. Then he kissed her lightly and heaved himself to his feet.

  “Nishinooo!” Subaru called out. The way she said his name sounded like a word in a foreign language. Whenever she called him, she always drew out the end of his name. Her inflection could have been taken either as an endearment or an insult.

  “You’re leaving?” Subara asked.

  “Uh-huh,” Nishino replied. And then, in the direction of where I was hiding behind the refrigerator, he said, “And you, don’t just sit there, listening attentively—show yourself!”

  For some reason, the refrigerator in the apartment Subaru and I shared was not against a wall. Instead, it was smack in the middle of the room. Subaru had moved it there at one point, saying that it was nice to have the fridge within arm’s reach at all times.

  Nishino soon left. Subaru was still lying on the floor. Dust motes were floating in the sunlight that shone through the window. But you couldn’t see any beyond where the light fell. Subaru faced the sunbeam and, still lying down, reached her hand out to it. She balled her hand into a fist, as if trying to grab the motes.

  “Can’t catch them,” Subaru said from her prone position.

  “They call it the Tyndall effect,” I said in a quiet voice.

  “The ‘tin’ what?”

  “It’s what makes the dust motes look like they’re floating like that.”

  “How do you know these things, Tama?” Subaru asked, lifting herself up sideways on one elbow. “I learned about it from Nishino,” I said even more quietly. Subaru opened the refrigerator door with her foot, stuck her delicate toes inside for a moment, and then closed it. The fridge made a humming sound.

  “That’s great,” Subaru said loudly. She pronounced each syllable with the same emphasis, making the words seem like a sticky orb.

  “Nishino knows about all kinds of things, surprisingly,” I said, to which Subaru uttered her gooey “That’s great” once more. I stood up, and Subaru then did a somersault. A small tumble. Subaru was very flexible, so she could manage to do a somersault in even the tightest spaces. Her face held a sullen expression as she rolled around. She must have been angry that Nishino hadn’t given her a proper kiss goodbye. And maybe also that it had been me and not her who knew about that “tin” whatever it was.

  I had gotten to know Nishino a little while back. That is to say, when Subaru dragged him back here. She had met Nishino in a bar somewhere, and they had talked together for hours. Ultimately she had brought him back to the apartment.

  “She said she was sleee-py,” Nishino had explained to me in a mild tone, that day. As proof of her own words, Subaru was now lying on the floor like a puddle of water, fast asleep.

  “I’ve never heard a girl say that so sleepily,” Nishino said with a laugh.

  “Subaru is nothing if not straightforward,” I replied bluntly. I was annoyed with both Subaru, who had randomly brought home some guy she didn’t know, and with the guy himself, who seemed to have no reservations about coming over to someone’s apartment—particularly when he didn’t seem all that intent on having sex with her. I don’t respond well to unclear situations.

  Things have to be either black or white for Tama, Subaru liked to say.

  No, they can also be red or green, yellow or purple—there are lots of options, I would reply, and Subaru would laugh out loud. Subaru’s voice was clear and pure. As I thought of her carelessly telling a guy she barely knew in that clear voice, “I’m sleee-py,” I got more and more irritated.

  “Want something to drink?” Nishino had asked me at the time, his gaze fixed on Subaru sleeping on the floor.

  “Nothing for me,” I replied instantly. “And this is our apartment, anyway,” I went on pointedly.

  Nishino narrowed his eyes. “You must be Tama, dear?”

  “Are you the kind of guy who calls every girl ‘dear’?” I spat out, glaring at him.

  Nishino was not the least bit put out; he reached into his bag and pulled out a can of oolong tea.

  “Not all of them,” Nishino said, as he opened the pull tab. “Only girls like you, Tama, dear, whom it seems to suit.” The can was at an angle, so a little of the oolong tea spilled out. I wanted to slap him in the face.

  “It’s almost time for tomorrow. Hurry home now,” I said, pointing toward the front door. It’s bad manners to point, Subaru would have told me. She was oddly old-fashioned about certain things.

  “Time for tomorrow, that’s a nice way of putting it,” Nishino said as he stood and, drinking his oolong tea, put on his shoes by the front door. He pushed open the door with the hand that was holding his bag and, continuing to drink his tea, he went outside. Then he clomped down the stairs.

  The slice of sky carved out in the height of the front door was ever so slightly brightening. A coolness rose from around my feet.

  It’s definitely time for tomorrow, I murmured. Even though tomorrow actually began at midnight, I always felt as though the wee hours, until dawn, still belonged to yesterday. But that, too, was all over once it was daylight. Most people wouldn’t deny that tomorrow arrived with the dawn.

  I hurried to close the front door, and took some apple juice out of the refrigerator. The juice was in a tall plastic container; I poured a glass half full, sipping it slowly.

  Subaru must really like this Nishino fellow, I thought to myself. The refrigerator hummed. Subaru stirred a bit. While I covered her with a blanket, I gently caressed her cheek. She couldn’t complain about it if she was sleeping.

  After that, Nishino started coming by frequently. He would just show up without any notice.

  “Nishino, don’t you have the courtesy to do something like call beforehand?” I asked.

  “I hate the anticipation when I’ve been forewarned,” Subaru interjected. Nishino simply smiled.

  Since he came by without warning, often I would be the only one at the apartment. Subaru had always liked going out to wander.

  “Tama, dear, how come you’re always in a ball?” Nishino asked me once. When I was at home, I was usually curled up on the rug. Subaru would say that I was exhausted from trying to make everything black or white, out in the world.

  “I feel safe when I’m curled up in a ball.”

  “Subaru is always sprawled out.”

  “Because she’s straightforward, like I said before.”

  “Girls who are straightforward sprawl out?”

  “Finicky ones curl up, and straightforward ones stretch out.”

  Tama, dear, you’re kind of strange, Nishino said, seemingly impressed. Say, how o
ld are you, Tama, dear?

  “Same age as Subaru. Twenty-one.”

  Eh? Nishino expressed surprise.

  The year I was born, that truck driver Mr. Onuki found one hundred million yen on the street in Ginza, and when I was four years old, the Mystery Man with Twenty-One Faces was on a crime spree. As I explained this, Nishino was staring fixedly at my face.

  “Think I look old for my age?”

  “No, Tama, dear, you look like you could be ten or twenty or seventy.”

  What’s that supposed to mean? I asked, throwing a cushion at Nishino. He caught it with both hands and then buried his face in it.

  Smells good. Must be your smell, Tama, dear, he said, or something to that effect.

  “When Subaru and I first met, we got all worked up talking about what we would do with a hundred million yen,” I said quickly, averting my gaze from Nishino who was playing with the cushion.

  What would you do? Nishino asked.

  “I would bury it in the ground, and dig it up every so often, just to grin at it.”

  A sound plan.

  “Yup.”

  What did Subaru say she’d do with it?

  “Get this—she said she’d buy a dog and a dog house and a dog collar.”

  That wouldn’t cost a hundred million yen.

  “I guess she would get a really lavish dog collar, encrusted with diamonds and emeralds and rubies.”

  It would get stolen right away.

  “Right. Of course, it being stolen is all part of her plan.”

  What would she do after it was stolen?

  “She said she would hurl abuse at the thief and curse them with everything she’s got.”

  Nishino widened his eyes. Then he gave a little laugh. A hundred million yen’s worth of abuse, huh? That’s rich.

  “And then, she said she would still have the dog and would enjoy her time living with it.”

  Hmm, Nishino said. This time he narrowed his eyes.

  “I’ve already decided where I would bury the hundred million yen, and Subaru knows which shop she would order the lavish dog collar from.”

  So, then, all that’s left is to find the hundred million yen? Nishino chuckled.

  I immediately regretted chattering away to Nishino about our silly fantasy. Sullen now, I stopped talking and curled up again on the rug.

  If I had a hundred million yen . . . Nishino murmured. If I had a hundred million yen, I would spend it on making the girls I know happy, he continued to muse.

  Nishino left a little while after that.

  You know, you can’t buy girls’ happiness, I griped to Nishino once he was gone. The only thing that can make them happy is themselves. Hmph.

  I picked up the cushion that Nishino had buried his face in and smelled it. All I could smell was the scent of cushion. I curled up on the floor, but I couldn’t relax. I tried curling up even tighter, so that my nose reached my knees. Before long, I started to feel tired, so I shifted my nose away from my knees, stretching out my limbs, loosening up a tiny bit. Then I fell asleep.

  Say, how old are you, Nishino? I tried asking the next time he came over. Subaru was watching the television that was in a corner of the apartment. Subaru liked television. She left it on all day long. For Subaru, who didn’t own a cell phone, a television was her only luxury.

  “Thirty-one. The year I was born, the Yodogo hijacking took place, and when I was four years old, that spoon-bending kid, Jun Sekiguchi, made an appearance.”

  What are you, ancient or something? I asked Nishino. What is this “Yodogo” thing?

  “I drove myself crazy trying to bend spoons,” Nishino muttered wistfully, without replying to my question.

  “Sometimes Subaru bends spoons,” I said, and Nishino widened his eyes. When he did this, his brow hung down, and it made his face look kind of goofy.

  “She bends them very easily when she’s angry. She breaks glasses too. And kicks over chairs,” I went on, and Nishino giggled.

  Subaru really is straightforward, isn’t she? Whether Subaru could hear our conversation or not, she kept her back turned and her gaze fixed on the television.

  “You don’t call Subaru ‘dear’?” I asked.

  Nishino shook his head. “It doesn’t suit her.”

  Something about this comment made me indignant. In addition to the fact that I saw nothing good about being a girl who was suited to being called “dear,” it angered me to be told that it did not suit Subaru. Everything in the world suited Subaru. Nishino just didn’t understand. I went over to the rug and curled up on it. The sound of the weather forecast came through muffled. Subaru was especially fond of the weather forecast, so she always turned up the volume when it came on. Heavy snow was falling in the vicinity of Sekigahara. In the northern mountains, an accumulation of thirty to fifty centimeters was expected. Near the coast, the waves would be high. Anyone venturing out in this weather should exercise great caution.

  Nishino gazed at Subaru listening attentively to the weather forecast.

  If it snowed here, we should make a snowman. Just Subaru and me, I thought, pressing my ear hard against the rug.

  How do you two support yourselves? Nishino asked Subaru.

  “We manage,” Subaru replied.

  That’s not an answer, Nishino laughed.

  “Part-time jobs,” I offered instead. “Subaru works at Shima, and I work here and there.”

  Shima was the bar where Subaru helped out about four times a week. It was a Spanish izakaya named after the owner, Mr. Shima, a middle-aged guy who ran it by himself.

  What makes it Spanish? I once asked Subaru.

  Seems like he just throws garlic into every dish, she replied.

  Mr. Shima had been Subaru’s lover at one point. He had even come over to our apartment, but just once.

  Wow, this place is cramped—both of you girls live here? Mr. Shima had said as he surveyed the apartment.

  What do you see in that guy? I had asked Subaru after Mr. Shima left.

  His legs are thick—I like that, she had replied. Me, I like guys with thick arms and legs.

  Not long after that, Subaru broke up with Mr. Shima, and around that time she started helping out at his bar.

  Usually it works the other way, right? I said. You break up, and then you quit working at the guy’s place, or so I thought. Subaru had just stared at me and said, “Never mix business with pleasure, Tama.”

  I want to save up some money. I really should, Subaru said.

  What will you do with it once you save it? Nishino asked.

  I’ll live next to Osaka Tower, Subaru replied as she sipped her tea. Nishino had made black tea for her. Subaru always added plenty of warm milk to her tea.

  Why Osaka Tower? Nishino was also sipping tea.

  “Did you know that, originally, Osaka Tower was meant to combine the designs of both the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe in Paris?” Subaru explained. She was in her element when she told this story.

  “It’s like the Eiffel Tower was stuck right on top of the Arc de Triomphe.”

  That’s amazing, Nishino said, impressed.

  It was amazing, Subaru nodded. But it was destroyed in a fire. The current Osaka Tower is the second one.

  Why do you want to live next to Osaka Tower? Nishino asked.

  “Because it’s awesome!” Subaru replied.

  “Living next to Tokyo Tower would be nice too,” I said in a quiet voice, but Subaru shook her head.

  “There’s something sad about Tokyo Tower.”

  I guess you’re right. It is sad, isn’t it? Nishino said.

  It is not sad. If the two of us lived there—whether it was next to Tokyo Tower or wherever—there wouldn’t be anything sad about it, I chimed in. But just in my head. Without saying a word.

 
Was Nishino Subaru’s lover? This question too was ventured silently, without speaking. There was something elusive about both of them—whereas up until now, I had been able to tell right away which guy was Subaru’s lover, I was stumped when it came to Nishino.

  I can’t stand it when things aren’t black or white. This phrase I mumbled out loud.

  Black and white are the same, you know, Nishino said.

  When I go up Osaka Tower, I’m going to wear a bright white coat, with bright white boots, Subaru spoke these words like a song.

  Subaru, you mean to tell me that you’ve never been up Osaka Tower? Nishino asked.

  Nope. Never even seen it, Subaru replied.

  Guess you’d better start saving up then, Nishino said. I thought he was then going to offer to take her there, but he didn’t. Nishino was gazing at Subaru. Subaru was gazing back at him. I alone was looking out the window.

  I felt a little pang in my chest. It was probably jealousy. But I didn’t know what I was jealous of. It looked like it was going to snow. The black tea that Nishino had made for me was now completely cold.

  The day Nishino told me he wanted me was particularly cold, even for that winter.

  Nishino was a little drunk, which was unusual for him.

  Tama, dear, have you and Subaru ever hooked up? Nishino asked. This was another day when Subaru was out wandering around.

  Don’t ask rude questions, I replied crossly.

  Sorry, Nishino apologized. And then he went on, in a quiet voice, I want you, Tama, dear.

  I was bewildered—I had never heard anyone use that expression before. Boys didn’t say that. They were much more casual about it. I stifled a giggle. There had been a few times when Subaru and I had found ourselves naked and entwined, kissing and touching each other’s bodies. Perhaps if we had known better—about how to proceed as lovers, I mean—Subaru and I might have had a chance at a physical and emotional relationship, but things didn’t go that way. And if they had, I know that it would have frightened me. I wondered how Subaru felt about it.