1Q84 (121 page)

“That’s wonderful news,” the vice principal said, beaming. “It’s a great honor for our school, and we will do everything we can to help you.”

“I was hoping to meet and speak directly with the teacher who taught Mr. Kawana,” Ushikawa said.

“I’ll check into that. It’s more than twenty years ago, so she may be retired already.”

“I appreciate that,” Ushikawa said. “If it’s all right, there’s one other thing I would like you to look into, if you would.”

“And what would that be?”

“There was a girl in the same year, I believe, as Mr. Kawana, a Miss Masami Aomame. Would you be able to check into whether she was in the same class as Mr. Kawana?”

The vice principal looked a bit dubious. “Is this Miss Aomame in some way connected with the question of funding for Mr. Kawana?”

“No, it’s not that. In one of the works by Mr. Kawana, there is a character who seems to be modeled on someone like Miss Aomame, and I have a few questions of my own on this topic that I need to clear up. It’s nothing very involved. Basically a formality.”

“I see,” the vice principal said, the corners of her lips rising ever so slightly. “I am sure you understand, however, that in some cases we may not be able to give you information that might touch on a person’s privacy. Grades, for instance, or reports on a pupil’s home environment.”

“Of course, I’m fully aware of that. All we are after is information on whether or not she was actually in the same class as Mr. Kawana. And if she was, I would appreciate it very much if you could give me the name and contact information for the teacher in charge of their class at the time.”

“I understand. That shouldn’t be a problem. Miss Aomame, was it?”

“Correct. It’s written with the characters for green and peas. An uncommon name.”

Ushikawa wrote the name “Masami Aomame” in pen on a page on his pocket notebook and passed the page to the vice principal. She looked at it for a few seconds, then placed it in the pocket of a folder on her desk.

“Could you please wait here for a few minutes? I’ll go check our staff records. I’ll have the person in charge photocopy whatever can be made public.”

“I’m sorry to bother you with this when you are obviously so busy,” Ushikawa said.

The vice principal’s flared skirt swished prettily as she exited the room. She had beautiful posture, and she moved elegantly. Her hairstyle was attractive too. She was clearly aging gracefully. Ushikawa shifted in his seat and killed time by reading a paperback book he had brought along.

The vice principal came back fifteen minutes later, a brown business envelope clutched to her breast.

“It turns out that Mr. Kawana was quite the student. He was always at the top of his class as well as a very successful athlete. He was especially good at arithmetic and mathematics, and even in elementary school he was able to solve high-school-level problems. He won a math contest and was written up in the newspaper as a child prodigy.”

“That’s amazing,” Ushikawa said.

“It’s odd that while he was touted as a math prodigy, today he has distinguished himself in literature.”

“Abundant talent is like a rich vein of water underground that finds all sorts of places to gush forth. Presently he is teaching math while writing novels.”

“I see,” the vice principal said, raising her eyebrows at a lovely angle. “Unlike Tengo, there wasn’t much on Masami Aomame. She transferred to another school in fifth grade. She was taken in by relatives in Adachi Ward in Tokyo and transferred to a school there. She and Tengo Kawana were classmates in third and fourth grades.”

Just as I suspected
, Ushikawa thought.
There
was
some connection between the two of them
.

“A Miss Ota was in charge of their class then. Toshie Ota. Now she’s teaching at a municipal elementary school in Narashino.”

“If I contact that school, perhaps I will be able to get in touch with her?”

“We have already made the call,” the vice principal said, smiling faintly. “When we explained the situation, she said she would be very pleased to meet with you.”

“I really appreciate that,” Ushikawa said.
She wasn’t just a pretty face
, he thought,
but an efficient administrator, too
.

On the back of her business card, the vice principal wrote down the teacher’s name and the phone number of the school, the Tsudanuma elementary school, and handed it to Ushikawa. Ushikawa carefully stashed the card in his billfold.

“I heard that Miss Aomame was raised with some sort of religious background,” Ushikawa said. “We are a bit concerned about this.”

The vice principal frowned, tiny lines forming at the corners of her eyes. The kind of subtle, charming, intelligent lines acquired only by middle-aged women who have taken great care to train themselves.

“I’m sorry, but that is not a subject we can discuss here,” she said.

“It touches on areas of personal privacy, doesn’t it,” Ushikawa asked.

“That’s correct. Especially issues dealing with religion.”

“But if I meet with this Miss Ota, I might be able to ask her about this.”

The vice principal inclined her slender jaw slightly to the left and smiled meaningfully. “If Miss Ota wishes to speak as a private individual, that is no concern of ours.”

Ushikawa stood up and politely thanked her. She handed him the brown business envelope. “The materials we could copy are inside. Documents pertaining to Mr. Kawana. There’s a little bit, too, concerning Miss Aomame. I hope it’s helpful to you.”

“I’m sure it will be. Thank you very much for all you have done. You’ve been very kind.”

“When the results of that grant are decided, you’ll be sure to let us know, won’t you? This will be a great honor for our school.”

“I’m positive there will be a good outcome,” Ushikawa said. “I have met him a number of times and he is a talented young man with a promising future.” Ushikawa stopped at a diner in front of Ichikawa Station, ate a simple lunch, and looked through the material in the envelope. There was a basic record of attendance at the school for both Tengo and Aomame, as well as records of awards given to Tengo for his achievements in academics and sports. He did indeed seem to be an extraordinary student. He probably never once thought of school as a nightmare. There was also a copy of a newspaper article about the math contest he had won. It was an old article and the photo wasn’t very clear, but it was obviously Tengo as a boy.

After lunch Ushikawa phoned the Tsudanuma elementary school. He spoke with Miss Ota, the teacher, and made an appointment to meet her at four at her school. After four I’m free to talk, she had said.

I know it’s my job
, Ushikawa sighed,
but two elementary schools in one day is a bit much
. Just thinking about it made him depressed. But so far it had been worth the effort. He now had proof that Tengo and Aomame were classmates for two years—a huge step forward.

Tengo had helped Eriko Fukada to revise
Air Chrysalis
into a decent novel, and make it a bestseller. Aomame had secretly murdered Eriko’s father, Tamotsu Fukada, in a suite at the Hotel Okura. It would appear that they shared the goal of attacking, in their own ways, the religious organization Sakigake. Perhaps they were working together. That’s what most people would conclude.

But it wouldn’t do to tell that duo from Sakigake about this—not yet. Ushikawa didn’t like to reveal information in fits and starts. He much preferred gathering as much information as he could, making absolutely sure of all the facts, and then, when he had solid proof, revealing the results with a flourish. It was a theatrical gesture he still retained from his days as a lawyer. He would act self-deprecating so that other people would let down their guard. Then, just when things were drawing to a conclusion, he would bring forth his irrefutable evidence and turn the tables.

As he rode the train to Tsudanuma, Ushikawa mentally assembled a number of hypotheses.

Tengo and Aomame might be lovers. They wouldn’t have been lovers when they were ten, of course, but it was possible to see them, after they graduated from elementary school, running into each other and growing intimate. And for some reason—the reason was still unclear—they decided to work together to destroy Sakigake. This was one hypothesis.

As far as Ushikawa could tell, however, there was no evidence of Tengo and Aomame having a relationship. Tengo had maintained an ongoing affair with a married woman ten years older than himself. If Tengo had been deeply involved with Aomame, he would not then regularly cheat on her with another woman—he wasn’t adroit enough to pull that off. Ushikawa had previously investigated Tengo’s habits over a two-week period. He taught math at a cram school three days a week, and on the other days he was mostly alone in his apartment. Writing novels, most likely. Other than occasionally shopping or going for a walk, he seldom left his place. It was a very monotonous, simple lifestyle, easy to fathom. There was nothing mysterious about it. Somehow Ushikawa just couldn’t picture him involved in a plot that involved murdering someone.

Personally, Ushikawa liked Tengo. Tengo was an unaffected, straightforward young man, independent and self-reliant. As is often the case with physically large people, he tended to be a bit slow on the uptake at times, but he wasn’t sly or cunning in the least. He was the kind of guy who, once he decided on a course of action, never deviated from it. The kind who would never make it as a lawyer or a stockbroker. Rather, he was more likely to get tripped up and stumble at the most critical juncture. He would make a good math teacher and novelist, though. He wasn’t particularly sociable or eloquent, but he did appeal to a certain type of woman. In a nutshell, he was the polar opposite of Ushikawa.

In contrast to what he knew about Tengo, Ushikawa knew next to nothing about Aomame—other than her background with the Witnesses and that she had later been a star softball player. When it came to her personality—her way of thinking, her strong points and weaknesses, what sort of private life she led—he was clueless. The facts that he had assembled were nothing more than what you would find on a resume.

But while comparing the backgrounds of Tengo and Aomame, some similarities came to light. First of all, both of them must have had unhappy childhoods. Aomame was dragged all over town by her mother to proselytize, slogging from house to house, ringing doorbells. All the Witness children were made to do that. In Tengo’s case, his father was an
NHK
fee collector. This was another job that involved making the rounds from one house to the next. Had Tengo been dragged along with him? Maybe he had. If Ushikawa had been Tengo’s father, he probably would have taken Tengo with him on his rounds. Having a child with you helped you collect more fees, and you saved on babysitting money—two birds with one stone. For Tengo this couldn’t have been much fun. Perhaps these two children even passed each other on the streets of Ichikawa.

Second, as they grew older, Tengo and Aomame worked hard to win athletic scholarships so they could get far away from home as quickly as possible. And both of them turned out to be superb athletes. They both must have been pretty talented to begin with. But there was also a reason they
had to be superb
. Being an athlete was a way to be recognized by others, and having outstanding records in sports was just about the only way they could win their independence. This was the valuable ticket they needed to survive. They thought differently from average teenagers. They confronted the world differently.

When he thought about it, Ushikawa realized his own situation somewhat resembled theirs.

I’m from an affluent family and had no need to get a scholarship. I always had plenty of spending money. But in order to get into a top university, and pass the bar exam, I had to study like mad, just like Tengo and Aomame. I had no time to have fun like my classmates. I had to abstain from all worldly pleasures—not that I had much chance of obtaining them to begin with—and focus solely on my studies. I was always stuck between feelings of inferiority and superiority. I often used to think I was like Raskolnikov, except I never met Sonia
.

Enough about me. Thinking about that won’t change anything. I have to get back to Tengo and Aomame
.

Say Tengo and Aomame did happen to run across each other sometime in their twenties and started talking. They would have been so amazed at all the things they had in common. And there would be so many things they had to talk about. Maybe they found themselves attracted to each other, as a man and a woman. Ushikawa had a vivid mental image of this scene—a fateful meeting, the ultimate romantic moment.

But had such a meeting actually taken place? Had a romance blossomed? Ushikawa didn’t know. But it would make sense if they had actually met. That would explain how they joined forces to attack Sakigake, each of them from a different angle—Tengo with his pen, Aomame no doubt with some special skill she had. Somehow, though, Ushikawa couldn’t warm to this hypothesis. On one level it all made sense, but he wasn’t convinced.

If indeed Tengo and Aomame did have such a deep relationship, there would be evidence. This fateful meeting would have had fateful results, and this would not have passed unnoticed by Ushikawa’s observant eyes. Aomame might have been able to hide it, but not Tengo.

In general, Ushikawa saw things logically. Without proof, he couldn’t go forward. However, he also trusted his natural intuition. When it came to a scenario where Tengo and Aomame had conspired together, his intuition shook its head no. It was just a little shake, but insistent nonetheless. Maybe the two of them weren’t even aware of each other’s existence. Maybe it
just turned out
that they were both simultaneously involved with Sakigake.

Even if it was hard to picture such a coincidence, Ushikawa’s intuition told him that this hypothesis felt more likely than the conspiracy theory. The two of them, driven by different motives, and approaching things from different angles, just happened to simultaneously shake Sakigake to the core. Two story lines at work, with different starting points but running parallel to each other.