1Q84 (58 page)

“I am sure that you are very busy, Mr. Kawana, so with your permission I will abbreviate any preliminary background and proceed directly to the heart of the matter,” Ushikawa said.

Tengo answered with a little nod.

Ushikawa took a sip of tea and launched into the business at hand. “You have probably never heard of the New Japan Foundation for the Advancement of Scholarship and the Arts, Mr. Kawana.” Tengo nodded. “We are a relatively new foundation that concentrates on selecting and supporting young people—especially those young people who are not yet widely known—who are engaged in original activity in the fields of scholarship and the arts. In other words, our aim is to nourish the budding youth who will carry the next generation on their shoulders in all fields of Japan’s contemporary culture. We contract with specialists to propose candidates for us in each category. We choose five artists and scholars each year and provide them with grants. They can do anything they like for one year, no strings attached. All we ask is that they submit a simple report at the end of their year—a mere formality—outlining their activities and results, to be included in the foundation’s magazine. Nothing more burdensome than that. We have just begun this activity, so the important thing for us is to produce tangible results. We are, in other words, still in the seed-planting stage. In concrete terms, what this means is that we will provide each recipient with an annual stipend of three million yen.”

“Very generous,” Tengo said.

“It takes both time and money to build up or discover something important. Of course, time and money are not in themselves a guarantee of great results, but they can’t hurt. The total amount of time available is especially limited. The clock is ticking as we speak. Time rushes past. Opportunities are lost right and left. If you have money, you can buy time. You can even buy freedom if you want. Time and freedom: those are the most important things that people can buy with money.”

Hearing this, Tengo almost reflexively glanced at his watch. True, time was ticking past without a letup.

“Sorry for taking so much of your time,” Ushikawa added, obviously interpreting Tengo’s gesture as a demonstration of his own argument. “Let me be quick about this. These days, of course, a mere three million yen is not going to enable a lavish lifestyle, but it ought to help a young person pay the bills very nicely. Which is our basic purpose: to make it possible for recipients to spend a full year concentrating on their research or creative projects without struggling to support themselves. And if the governing board determines at the end-of-year evaluation that the person produced noteworthy results during the period, the possibility remains for the stipend to be extended beyond the single year.”

Tengo said nothing but waited for Ushikawa to continue.

“The other day I took the liberty of listening to you lecture for a full hour here at the cram school, Mr. Kawana. Believe me, I found it
very
interesting. I am a total outsider when it comes to mathematics, or should I say I’ve always been terrible at it and absolutely hated math class in school. I just had to hear the word ‘mathematics’ to start writhing in agony and to run away as far as I could. But your lecture, Mr. Kawana, was utterly enjoyable. Of course, I didn’t understand a thing about the logic of calculus, but just listening to you speak about it, I thought, if it’s really so interesting, I ought to start studying math. You can be proud of yourself. You have a special talent—a talent for drawing people in, should I say. I had heard that you were a popular teacher, and I could see why.”

Tengo had no idea when or where Ushikawa could have heard him lecture. He always paid close attention to who was in the room when he was teaching, and though he had not memorized every student’s face, he could never have missed anyone as strange-looking as Ushikawa, who would have stood out like a centipede in a sugar bowl. He decided not to pursue the matter, however, which would only have prolonged a conversation that was already too long.

“As you must know, Mr. Ushikawa, I’m just an employee here, somebody the cram school hires to teach a few courses,” Tengo began, anxious to waste as little time as possible. “I don’t do any original research in mathematics. I just take knowledge that is already out there and explain it to students as simply and entertainingly as I can. All I’m doing is teaching them more effective methods for solving problems on college placement tests. I may have a certain talent for that, but I gave up the idea of being a professional researcher in the field a long time ago. For one thing, I couldn’t afford to stay in school any longer, and I never thought I had the aptitude or the ability to make a name for myself in the academic world. In that sense, I’m just not the kind of person you’re looking for.”

Ushikawa hurriedly raised his hand. “No, that’s not what I’m getting at at all. I’m sorry, I might have made this more complicated than it has to be. It’s true that your math lectures are interesting and unique and original. But I didn’t come here today about that. What we have our eye on, Mr. Kawana, is your activity as a novelist.”

Tengo was so unprepared for this that he was momentarily at a loss for words.

“My activity as a novelist?”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t understand. It’s true, I’ve been writing fiction for several years, but nothing of mine has ever been published. You can’t call someone like that a novelist. How could I have possibly attracted your attention?”

At Tengo’s reaction, Ushikawa smiled in great delight, revealing a mouthful of horribly crooked teeth. Like seaside pilings that had been hit by huge waves, they pointed off in all directions and were befouled in a great many ways.
They were surely beyond help from orthodontia, but someone should at least teach him how to brush his teeth properly
, Tengo thought.

“That’s what makes our foundation unique,” Ushikawa said proudly. “The researchers we contract with take note of things that other people have yet to notice. That is one of our goals. As you say, none of your work has been properly published, and we are quite aware of that. But we also know that, under a penname, you have entered various literary magazines’ new writer’s competitions almost every year. You have not won yet, unfortunately, but a few times your work made it through to the last stage of the screening process, so that, quite naturally, a not inconsiderable number of people got to read them, and several of those people took note of your talent. Our researcher has concluded that you are certain to win a new writer’s award in the near future and make your debut as a writer. ‘Investing in futures’ would be a rather crude way to put it, but as I said before, our aim is to ‘nourish the budding youth who will carry the next generation on their shoulders.’ ”

Tengo picked up his cup and took a drink of his tea, which, by now, was somewhat cool. “So, what you’re saying is that I’m a candidate for a grant as a fledgling novelist, is that it?”

“That is it exactly. Except that you’re not so much a candidate as a finalist. If you say that you are willing to accept the grant, then I am authorized to finalize the arrangements. If you will be so good as to sign the necessary documents, the three million yen will be transferred electronically into your bank account immediately. You will be able to take six months or a year’s leave from this cram school and devote all your energies to writing. We have heard that you are presently writing a long novel. This would be a perfect opportunity, don’t you think?”

“How do you know I’m writing a long novel?” Tengo asked with a frown.

Ushikawa gave him another toothy grin, but upon closer inspection, Tengo realized that his eyes were not smiling at all. The glow from them was icy cold.

“Our researchers are eager and capable. They choose a number of candidates and examine them from every angle. Probably a few people around you know that you are writing a novel. Word gets out …”

Komatsu knew he was writing a novel, and so did his older girlfriend. Was there anyone else? Probably not.

“I’d like to ask a few things about your foundation,” Tengo said.

“Please do. Ask anything at all.”

“Where does it get the money it needs to operate?”

“From a certain individual. Or, you might say, from an organization of his. Realistically speaking—just between us—it also serves as one of his many tax write-offs. Of course, quite aside from that, this individual has a deep interest in scholarship and the arts, and he wants to support members of the younger generation. I can’t go into any more detail here. The person wishes to remain anonymous—and that includes his organization as well. All day-to-day operations are entrusted to the foundation’s committee, of which yours truly is, for now, a member.”

Tengo thought about this for a moment, but there really wasn’t that much to think about. All he did was put the things that Ushikawa had told him in order.

“Would you mind very much if I smoked?” Ushikawa asked.

“Not at all,” Tengo said, pushing a heavy glass ashtray in his direction.

Ushikawa took a box of Seven Stars cigarettes from his breast pocket, put a cigarette in his mouth, and lit it with a gold lighter. The lighter was slim and expensive-looking.

“So, what do you say, Mr. Kawana?” Ushikawa asked. “Will you do us the honor of accepting our grant? Speaking for myself, quite honestly, after having heard your delightful lecture, I am very much looking forward to seeing what kind of world you go on to create in your literature.”

“I am very grateful to you for bringing me this offer,” Tengo said. “It’s far more than I deserve. But I’m afraid I can’t accept it.”

Smoke rose from the cigarette between Ushikawa’s fingers. He looked at Tengo with his eyes narrowed. “By which you mean …?”

“First of all, I don’t like the idea of taking money from people I hardly know. Secondly, as things stand now, I don’t really need the money. I have managed well enough so far by teaching three days a week at the cram school and using the other days to concentrate on my writing. I’m not ready to change that lifestyle.”

Thirdly, Mr. Ushikawa, I personally don’t want to have anything to do with you. Fourthly, no matter how you look at it, there’s something fishy about this grant. It just sounds too good to be true. There’s something going on behind the scenes. I certainly don’t have the best intuition in the world, but I can tell that much from the smell
. Tengo, of course, said none of this.

“I see,” Ushikawa said, filling his lungs with cigarette smoke and exhaling with a look of deep satisfaction. “I see. I think, in my own way, I understand your view of the matter. What you say is quite logical. But really, Mr. Kawana, there is no need for you to give me your answer right now. Why don’t you go home and take a good two or three days to think it over? Take more time to reach your conclusion. We’re not in any hurry. It’s not a bad offer.”

Tengo gave his head a decisive shake. “Thank you, that’s very kind, but it will save us both a lot of time and trouble if we reach a final decision today. I am honored to have been nominated for a grant, and I’m sorry to have put you to the trouble of making a special trip here, but I’m afraid I will have to decline. This is my final conclusion, and there is no possibility that I would reconsider.”

Ushikawa nodded a few times and regretfully used the ashtray to crush out the cigarette, from which he had taken only two puffs.

“That’s fine, Mr. Kawana. I see where you are coming from, and I want to respect your wishes. I am sorry for having taken up your time. It’s unfortunate, but I will have to resign myself to it. I will be going now.”

But Ushikawa showed no sign of standing up. He simply treated the back of his head to a thorough scratching and looked at Tengo with narrowed eyes.

“However, Mr. Kawana, you yourself may not be aware of it, but people are expecting great things from you as a writer. You have talent. Mathematics and literature probably have no direct connection, but listening to you lecture on mathematics is like listening to someone tell a story. This is not something that any ordinary person can do. You have something special that needs to be told. That is clear even to the likes of me. So be sure to take care of yourself. Forgive me if I am being oversolicitous, but please try not to become embroiled in extraneous matters, and make up your mind to walk straight down your own path in life.”

“Extraneous matters?” Tengo asked.

“For example, you seem to have—how should I put this?—some sort of connection with Miss Eriko Fukada, the author of
Air Chrysalis
. Or at least you have met her a few times, am I correct? By coincidence, I just happened to read in today’s paper that she has apparently disappeared. The media will have a field day with this delicious item, I’m sure.”

“Assuming I have met Eriko Fukada, is that supposed to mean something?”

Again Ushikawa raised his hand to stop Tengo. It was a small hand, but the fingers were short and stubby. “Now, now, please don’t get worked up over this. I don’t mean any harm. All I am trying to say is that selling off one’s talents and time in dribs and drabs to make ends meet never produces good results. It may sound presumptuous of me to say this, but your talent is a genuine diamond in the rough, and I don’t want to see it wasted and ruined on pointless things. If the relationship between you and Miss Fukada becomes public knowledge, Mr. Kawana, someone is bound to seek you out at home. They’ll start stalking you, and they’ll turn up all kinds of half-truths. They’re a persistent bunch.”

Tengo stared at Ushikawa, saying nothing. Ushikawa narrowed his eyes and started scratching one of his big earlobes. The ears themselves were small, but Ushikawa’s earlobes were strangely big. Ushikawa’s physical oddities were an unending source of fascination.

“Now, don’t get the wrong idea. My lips are sealed,” Ushikawa said, gesturing as if zipping his mouth closed. “I promise you that. I may not look it, but I know how to keep a secret. People say I must have been a clam in a previous life. I’ll keep this matter locked up inside as a sign of my personal regard for you. No one else will know.”