“I’m so disappointed in myself for creating a distraction at such a busy time.” The professor seemed unable to reconcile himself to the exigencies of old age. “How is The Great Passage coming along?”
Exchanging glances, Majime and Araki said simultaneously, “Fine.” It wouldn’t do to cause the professor any worry. Wild horses couldn’t have dragged the word blood from them.
After the visit, Majime said good-bye to Araki and went home to pick up a change of clothes. Ten or so years before, his landlady Také had died, ushering in a new chapter in the history of the two-story wooden structure. Ownership had passed to Kaguya, Také’s granddaughter. She and Majime were already married by then, and they had continued to live there, carrying out occasional repairs as needed.
Také had always treated Majime like one of the family. As his library grew, gradually taking over the entire downstairs, she never uttered a word of complaint. He was clumsy at work and romance alike, but she always watched over and supported him. When he and Kaguya got married, she’d been overjoyed. Recalling the early days of their marriage, spent in that house with Také, always filled him with pleasant warmth.
One winter morning, Také had failed to wake up. They found her on her futon, dead of what the doctor called heart failure. Plainly speaking, it was old age. In her later years she ate little and spent almost all her time in her room on the second floor; going up and down stairs was hard labor, she used to say. The night before she died, she said she thought she might be coming down with a cold. She had seemed so full of life that the sudden farewell had been most upsetting. She hadn’t suffered; that was their only comfort.
They held the funeral in a daze and returned to a house empty of Také. Only then did they realize that they hadn’t seen any sign of their cat, Tora. They searched the neighborhood and even contacted the public health center. They waited for days and days, but never did find out what had become of Tora. Perhaps, sensing his owner’s death, he had set out on a journey of his own. When they accepted that Tora wasn’t ever coming back, then and only then were Majime and Kaguya able to cry over Také’s death. They held hands and wept aloud with rasping sobs, as if trying to force air into lungs crushed by grief.
Now Majime slid open the lattice front door and called, “I’m home.”
In response, out came their current pet cat, Torao, who had been with them for a number of years. He was a splendid tabby, very similar in appearance to his predecessor. Majime liked to think he was Tora’s son or grandson.
He started up the creaking stairs, with Torao winding around his legs. The entire downstairs—except for the kitchen, bath, and toilet—was still taken up by his books, so he and Kaguya lived upstairs.
“Oh, you’re back!” Still half-asleep, Kaguya poked her head out of the room at the end of the hall. “What are you doing back so early? Feeling okay?”
“That’s not it.”
He went into the middle room, the one that was his, and started to pull clean clothes out of the dresser. “A little glitch came up. I’ll be sleeping at the office for a while.”
Kaguya looked worried, but she didn’t press him for details. She understood his passion for dictionaries and always tried to keep out of his way. Majime, too, tried to avoid being a burden on Kaguya, who was equally committed to her career.
She seemed about to get up and join him, so he hastily said, “It’s okay. Go back to bed.”
Having finished stocking food and making her preparations for the evening, Kaguya was undoubtedly trying to get a bit of needed sleep.
“Mitsu, did you have lunch?”
No, he realized, he hadn’t eaten anything. Unable to come up with an excuse off the top of his head, he stammered. She slipped a cardigan over her pajamas.
“Let me make you something.”
“Yeah, but—”
“You have time to eat, don’t you? I’m hungry, too.”
Torao followed her expectantly down the stairs.
The room at the top of the stairs, their living room, looked exactly as it had when Také was alive. They still hadn’t gotten out the kotatsu table heater for the cold weather. Instead, there was a small, low table. Against the wall was an old wooden dresser. The window looked out on the clothes-drying platform and the autumn sky.
The one thing different from before was a small Buddhist shrine containing the memorial tablets and photographs of Také and her husband, Kaguya’s grandfather, who had died years earlier. Kaguya had never met him. The photograph showed him as a fine-looking man. Majime was of the opinion that Kaguya had his eyes.
He stuffed some clothes and his shaver in a travel bag and, after a short breather, offered incense at the shrine, placing his palms together in respect. Kaguya came in carrying a tray, with Torao right behind her.
“Here you are.”
“Thanks. It looks good.”
“Let’s eat.”
They sat down at the small table and picked up their chopsticks. She had made grilled fish, an omelet, boiled spinach with soy sauce, and miso soup with onion, fried tofu, and silken tofu.
“This is more like breakfast than lunch, I’m afraid,” she said.
“It tastes wonderful. As usual.”
He said this with such feeling that she lowered her head, embarrassed, and ate a little more quickly. Torao mewed softly, his eyes fixed on the salmon.
“Torao, you have food in your dish and you know it!”
Reprimanded by Kaguya, Torao turned away reluctantly and put his face in the dish of cat food in the corner.
“I went to the hospital just now to look in on Professor Matsumoto.”
“You what?” Kaguya set down her chopsticks and swallowed. “What happened?”
“He’s going to be in the hospital for a week of routine tests, he says.”
“Oh. Still, that’s scary.” The memory of Také’s sudden death cast a shadow. “Let me know if there’s anything special he’d like to eat. I could make it and take it to him. Please ask when you get a chance.”
“Sure.”
“He’s getting on now, so make sure he takes his time recovering.”
“That’s just what’s been bothering me.”
“What?”
Majime stopped chewing and sat up straighter. “How old is he? Do you know?”
“No.”
They looked at each other, then laughed.
“I’ve known him going on fifteen years, and he hasn’t changed a bit in all that time,” he said. “He could be in his nineties for all I know, or he could be sixty-eight. Either way, I’d believe it.”
“Lexicographers are a bit otherworldly.” Seeing Majime nod absently, she added, “I mean you, too, Mitsu. But you know, the professor may actually be surprisingly young. You wait and see, he’ll be better in no time.”
“Let’s hope so.”
After eating, Majime set off with his travel bag. After he had walked a short way, he turned around. Kaguya was standing in front of the house, waving. Torao, cradled in her arms, gave a big yawn.
“I forgot to tell you. Miss Kishibe is going out with Miyamoto from Akebono Paper Company.”
“I’m not surprised. I told you when they came to the restaurant, I had a feeling about them, remember?”
“You’re so observant. It always amazes me.”