Free The Briefcase by Hiromi Kawakami Page B

mustn’t use a word like ‘butt.’”
    Before I could say, Well, what the hell word should I use then? Sensei added, “There are various other options such as ‘backside’ or ‘posterior’ and so forth.”
    He went on, “Indeed, it’s a shame what limited vocabularies young people have nowadays.”
    Without replying to him, I laughed, and Sensei laughed too.
    “So then, don’t let’s go to Satoru’s place tonight.”
    Shocked once again, I thought, Huh? Seeing my reaction, Sensei nodded lightly in my direction.
    “If I appear to be in pain, Satoru will worry. I have no intention of causing someone concern while I’m having a drink.”
    I was about to ask, In that case, why bother going for a drink at all?
    “But you know what they say: ‘Even a chance meeting is the result of a karmic connection.’”
    Do you think you and I have a karmic connection? I asked.
    “Tsukiko, do you know what that means, a ‘karmic connection’?” Sensei asked in return.
    Something to do with chance? I ventured after thinking for a moment.
    Sensei shook his head with furrowed brows. “Not chance, but rather, destiny. Transmigration of the soul.”
    I see, I replied. I, uh . . . Japanese class was not my best subject.
    “That’s because you didn’t study hard enough,” Sensei said judgmentally. “Tsukiko, the idea of karmic destiny comes from the Buddhist concept that all living things are reincarnated again and again.”
    Sensei stood in front of the odenya that was next door to Satoru’s
place before we ducked inside. Looking closely, I noticed that Sensei’s torso was indeed slightly off-kilter as he walked. I wondered how much his butt—ahem, his backside—was hurting him. I couldn’t tell anything from his expression.
    “Hot saké, please,” Sensei called out, and I ordered a bottle of beer. We were promptly served, a hot saké bottle and a half-liter bottle of beer, along with a saké cup and a beer glass. We each poured into the appropriate vessels for ourselves and said cheers.
    “So, in other words, a karmic connection refers to a bond from a previous life.”
    A previous life? I said, slightly raising my voice. We were connected in a previous life, you and I?
    “Everyone’s connected somehow, perhaps,” Sensei replied serenely, taking care as he poured saké from the bottle to his cup. A young man seated next to us at the counter was staring at Sensei and me. I had caught his attention when I raised my voice a moment ago. The guy had three piercings in his ear. He wore gold studs in two of the holes and, in the first hole, a dangling earring that swayed with a particular shimmer.
    I’d like hot saké too, I called out my order to the counter and then asked, Sensei, do you believe in past lives? The guy next to us seemed to be eavesdropping.
    “Sort of.” Sensei’s response was unexpected. I thought he would say something like, Tsukiko, what about you, do you believe in past lives? You know, it’s awfully sentimental.
    “Past lives, or fate, that is.”
    Daikon , tsumire , and beef tendons, please, Sensei ordered.
    Not to be outdone, I followed with Chikuwabu , konnyaku noodles, and I’ll also have some daikon . The young man next to us asked for kombu and hanpen . We left off our conversation about fate and past lives while we focused on eating our oden for the moment. Sensei, still off-kilter, brought to his mouth the daikon that he had cut into
bite-size pieces with his chopsticks, while I hunched forward a little to nibble on my piece of daikon.
    The saké and the oden are so delicious, I said. Sensei patted me lightly on the head. Lately, I had noticed that, from time to time, Sensei had taken to this gentle gesture.
    “It’s nice to see someone who enjoys eating,” he said as he patted my head.
    Shall we order a little more, Sensei?
    Good idea.
    We chatted as we ordered. The young man beside us was quite red in the face. What appeared to be three empty saké bottles were lined up in