“Hey Shibami!” someone called.

I turned toward the voice, and saw that Tanaka was standing nearby.

“Hey, has Ken'ichi said anything about paying you back?” I asked.

I'd heard that Tanaka had lent money to Ken'ichi too.

“No, he hasn't! And it's no joke, either—I lent the jerk thirty thousand yen! I can't believe he'd use my money to run off to Hawaii with some girl!”

He sounded pretty seriously enraged.

“Hawaii?”

“Yeah. He's dating some high school kid.”

“Really? And has he come back?”

“You think I'd know?”

“Oh.”

How like him. I bet he's only planning to pay back the people he likes.

I nodded in agreement with myself as I thought this.

“Why? Have you heard from him?” asked Tanaka.

“Nope, not a word!” I said, shaking my head. I certainly didn't want to make things difficult for Ken'ichi now that he'd said he was going to pay me back.

“By the way, I've been seeing your cousin around a lot lately.”

“What do you mean? Around where?” I asked.

Mari and Tanaka were acquaintances.

“What do you mean, where? That bar by the intersection, the one that's open all night, and over at the side of the road, and at Denny's, you know, in this area basically, usually at night.”

“I see—at night.” I nodded. So the previous night's excursion hadn't just been a onetime affair. Yes . . . come to think of it, she'd lacked the vigor of someone out enjoying the night. She'd been wandering around in a trance, like a sleepwalker.

What did she see on that snow-blanketed night, as she stood gazing up at the light streaming from my window? Perhaps since it was so dark outdoors the interior of my room looked extremely bright, very white. Perhaps it looked like it would be really warm and cozy inside?

These thoughts made me feel a little sad.

I said good-bye to Tanaka, and we walked off in opposite directions.

On my way home from work I stopped by the place Tanaka had mentioned, that dark and rather somber bar, hoping to meet up with Mari. It was pretty dimly lit inside, too, but what got to you most was the gloominess of the neighborhood. The place is directly across from a cemetery.

Mari was there. She had her elbows propped up on her table.

I walked over, calling her name.

“Hey, what luck!” she said.

She pointed at a bag lying on the chair next to her.

I sat down across from her. “What do you mean? What's so lucky?”

“Your shoes are in there.”

“Are they?” I smiled.

“Yup.” Mari smiled back.

Then she held out the bag, a gorgeous one from the expensive department store Isetan. No doubt my scuffed-up shoes were sitting in a beautiful box inside that bag, carefully dried and rubbed until they were clean. It occurred to me that the elegant way Mari had of going about things like this was the lingering effect of certain habits she'd developed in a past that was now lost to her—that those habits were controlling her actions even now. I felt a kind of tenderness as I sat staring at her, the sort of feeling you might have looking at a ghost.