Free 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami Page A

little more than an extension of Komatsu himself, another arm or leg. If Komatsu was up, Tengo must be up. Tengo normally went to bed at ten o’clock and woke at six, maintaining a generally regular lifestyle. He was a deep sleeper. Once something woke him, though, it was hard for him to get to sleep again. He was high-strung to that extent. He had tried to explain this to Komatsu any number of times, and pleaded with him not to call in the middle of the night, like a farmer begging God not to send swarms of locusts into his fields before harvest time.
    “Got it,” Komatsu declared. “No more nighttime calls.” But his promise had not sunk deep roots in his brain. One rainfall was all it took to wash them out.
    Tengo crawled out of bed and, bumping into things, managed to find his way to the phone in the kitchen. All the while, the phone kept up its merciless ringing.
    “I talked to Fuka-Eri,” Komatsu said. He never bothered with the standard greetings, no “Were you sleeping?” or “Sorry to call so late.” Pretty impressive. Tengo couldn’t help admiring him.
    Tengo frowned in the dark, saying nothing. When roused at night, it took his brain a while to start working.
    “Did you hear what I said?”
    “Yes, I did.”
    “It was just a phone call. But I did talk to her. Or
at
her. She just listened. You couldn’t exactly call it a conversation. She hardly talks. And she’s got an odd way of speaking. You’ll see what I mean. Anyhow, I gave her a general outline of my plan, like, what did she think of the idea of going after the new writers’ prize by having somebody rewrite
Air Chrysalis
to get it into better shape? I couldn’t give her much more than a rough idea on the phone and ask her if she had any interest, assuming we’d meet and talk over the details. I kept it sort of vague. If I got
too
direct about stuff like this, I could put myself in an awkward position.”
    “And so?”
    “No answer.”
    “No answer?”
    Komatsu paused for effect. He put a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a match. Hearing the sounds over the phone, Tengo could imagine the scene vividly. Komatsu never used a lighter.
    “Fuka-Eri says she wants to meet you first,” Komatsu said, exhaling. “She didn’t say whether or not she was interested in the plan, or whether or not she liked the idea. I guess the main thing is to start by meeting you and talking about it face-to-face. She’ll give me her answer after that, she says. The responsibility is all yours, don’t you think?”
    “And so?”
    “Are you free tomorrow evening?”
    His classes started in the morning and ended at four. Fortunately (or unfortunately) he had nothing after that. “I’m free,” he said.
    “Good. I want you to go to the Nakamuraya Cafe in Shinjuku at six o’clock. I’ll reserve a table for you in the back where it’s quiet. It’ll be in my name and on the company’s tab, so eat and drink as much as you like. The two of you can have a nice, long talk.”
    “Without you?”
    “That’s the way Fuka-Eri wants it. She says there’s no point in meeting me yet.”
    Tengo kept silent.
    “So that’s how it is,” Komatsu said cheerily. “Give it your best shot, Tengo. You’re a big lug, but you make a good impression on people. And besides, you teach at a cram school. You’re used to talking to these precocious high school girls. You’re the right guy for the job, not me. Flash her a smile, win her over, get her to trust you. I’ll be looking forward to the good news.”
    “Now, wait just a minute. This was all
your
idea. I still haven’t even told you if I’ll do it. Like I said the other day, this is a tremendously risky plan, and I don’t see it working all that well. It could turn into a real scandal. How am I supposed to convince this girl I’ve never met to go along with it when I myself haven’t decided to take it on?”
    Komatsu remained silent at his end. Then, after a moment’s pause, he said, “Now listen,