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of the main house drinking green tea and munching on rice crackers；
sharing small talk。 After retirement； he had got a job with an insurance
pany； he said； but he had left that；
too； after a couple of years； and now he was taking it easy。 The house
and land had been in the family for a long time； his children were
grown…up and independent； and he could manage a fortable old
age without working。 Which is why he and his wife were always
travelling together。
〃That's nice；〃 I said。
〃No it's not；〃 he answered。 〃Travelling is no fun。 I'd much rather be
working。〃
He let the garden grow wild； he said； because there were no decent
gardeners in the area and because he had developed allergies that
made it impossible for him to do the work himself。 Cutting grass made
him sneeze。
When we had finished our tea； he showed me a storage shed and told
me I could use anything I found inside； more or less by way of thanks
for my gardening。 〃We don't have any use for any of this stuff；〃 he
said； 〃so feel free。〃
And in fact the place was crammed with all kinds of things … an old
wooden bath； a kids' swimming pool； baseball bats。 I found an old
bike； a handy…sized dining table with two chairs； a mirror； and a
guitar。 〃I'd like to borrow these if you don't mind；〃 I said。
〃Feel free；〃 he said again。
I spent a day working on the bike： cleaning the rust off； oiling the
bearings； pumping up the tyres； adjusting the gears； and taking it to a
bike repair shop to have a new gear cable installed。 It looked like a
different bike by the time I had finished。 I cleaned a thick layer of dust
off the table and gave it a new coat of varnish。 I replaced the strings of
the guitar and glued a section of the body that was ing apart。 I
took a wire brush to the rust on the tuning pegs and adjusted those。 It
wasn't much of a guitar； but at least I got it to stay in tune。 I hadn't had
a guitar in my hands since school； I realized。 I sat on the porch and
picked my way through The Drifters' 〃Up on the Roof〃 as well as I
could。 I was amazed to find I still remembered most of the chords。
Next I took a few planks of wood and made myself a square letterbox。
I painted it red； wrote my name on it； and set it outside my door。 Up
until 3 April； the only post that found its way to my box was
something that had been forwarded from the dorm： a notice from the
reunion mittee of my school。 A class reunion was the last thing I
wanted to have anything to do with。 That was the class I had been in
with Kizuki。 I threw it in the bin。
I found a letter in the box on the afternoon of 4 April。 It said Reiko
Ishida on the back。 I made a nice； clean cut across the seal with my
scissors and went out to the porch to read it。 I had a feeling this was
not going to be good news； and I was right。
First Reiko apologized for making me wait so long for an answer。
Naoko had been struggling to write me a letter； she said； but she could
never seem to write one through to the end。
I offered to send you an answer in her place； but every time I pointed
out how wrong it was of her to keep you waiting； she insisted that it
was far too personal a matter； that she would write to you herself；
which is why I haven't written sooner。 I'm sorry； really。 I hope you can
forgive me。
I know you must have had a difficult month waiting for an answer； but
believe me； the month has been just as difficult for Naoko。 Please try
to understand what she's been going through。 Her condition is not
good； I have to say in all honesty。 She was trying her best to stand on
her own two feet； but so far the results have not been good。
Looking back； I see now that the first symptom of her problem was
her loss of the ability to write letters。 That happened around the end of
November or beginning of December。 Then she started hearing things。
Whenever she would try to write a letter； she would hear people
talking to her； which made it impossible for her to write。 The voices
would interfere with her attempts to choose her words。 It wasn't all
that bad until about the time of your second visit； so I didn't take it too
seriously。 For all of us here； these kinds of symptoms e in cycles；
more or less。 In her case； they got quite serious after you left。 She is
having trouble now just holding an ordinary conversation。 She can't
find the right words to speak； and that puts her into a terribly confused
state … confused and frightened。 Meanwhile； the 〃things〃 she's hearing
are getting worse。
We have a session every day with one of the specialists。 Naoko and
the doctor and I sit around talking and trying to find the exact part of
her that's broken。 I came up with the idea that it would be good to add
you to one of our sessions if possible； and the doctor was in favour of
it； but Naoko was against it。 I can tell you exactly what her reason
was： 〃I want my body to be clean of all this when I meet him。〃 That
was not the problem； I said to her； the problem was to get her well as
quickly as possible； and I pushed as hard as I could； but she wouldn't
change her mind。
I think I once explained to you that this is not a specialized hospital。
We do have medical specialists here； of course； and they provide
effective treatments； but concentrated therapy is another matter。 The
point of this place is to create an effective environment in which the
patient can treat herself or himself； and that does not； pro perly
speaking； include medical treatment。 Which means that if Naoko's
condition grows any worse； they will probably have to transfer her to
some other hospital or medical facility or what have you。 Personally； I
would find this very painful； but we would have to do it。 That isn't to
say that she couldn't e back here for treatment on a kind of
temporary 〃leave of absence〃。 Or； better yet； she could even be cured
and finish with hospitals pletely。 In any case； we're doing
everything we can； and Naoko is doing everything she can。 The best
thing you can do meanwhile is hope for her recovery and keep sending
her those letters。
It was dated 31 March。 After I had read it； I stayed on the porch and
let my eyes wander out to the garden； full now with the freshness of
spring。 An old cherry tree stood there； its blossoms nearing the height
of their glory。 A soft breeze blew； and the light of day lent its
strangely blurred； smoky colours to everything。 Seagull wandered
over from somewhere； and after scratching at the boards of the
veranda for a while； she stretched out next to me and fell asleep。
I knew I should be doing some serious thinking； but I had no idea how
to go about it。 And； to tell the truth； thinking was the last thing I
wanted to do。 The time would e soon enough when I had no
choice in the matter； and when that time came I would take a good；
long while to think things over。 Not now； though。 Not now。
I spent the day staring at the garden； propped against a pillar and
stroking Seagull。 I felt pletely drained。 The
afternoon deepened； twilight approached； and bluish shadows
enveloped the garden。 Seagull disappeared； but I went on staring at the
cherr