I felt like I wouldn't mind even if those inescapable regrets that we're all left with, that lie buried deep inside every one of us, ended up being nothing more than a bit of color added to the night—as long as I could enjoy the incredible beauty of this quietly blurring, infinitely reflected scenery until morning, when everything would return once again to zero.

“Would you like to go see Haru now?” Mizuo asked suddenly.

“Excuse me?” I said this in a rather jarring tone. I was so taken aback that the other people in the restaurant glanced over at me.

“I know a guy who can do that sort of stuff,” Mizuo said, grinning.

“This sounds extre-e-emely suspect,” I replied, and grinned back.

“Actually, it's pretty impressive. The guy's a midget—I got to know him way back when I was doing a kind of work much more unsavory than what I'm doing now. He lets you talk to dead people. It's kind of like hypnotism, you know, except it's totally real,” Mizuo said.

“And you've tried this?” I asked.

“Yeah. I once killed someone, see, by mistake.”

These words just slipped off his tongue. His casualness indicated how unfathomably deep his remorse was.

“What, in a fight or something?”

“Nope. I lent him my car when it was broken.”

Mizuo seemed unwilling to say more. He changed the topic. “It left a really bad aftertaste, you know, so I went to this midget . . . and then I met the guy and talked things over with him, and even if it was bogus it made me feel better—it totally cleared the air. And I meant it when I said that I think you and Haru were close to each other. If there hadn't been a man standing between you, I'm sure you would have hit it off really well. That guy has turned into a real loser now, and he's living a sleazy life, but back then he had this super-cheery kind of air about him, right? I always thought that since the two of you reacted in the same way to that sort of radiance, you must be pretty similar.”

It occurred to me once again that the coldness of Mizuo's personality was like that of water, just as his name suggested. I realized that the trees and all kinds of other things scattered throughout the gorgeous scene spread beneath the window—a scene that ought to have been perfectly still—were shaking. There must be a strong wind blowing. The headlights of cars kept flowing on, quietly burying the streets.

“Of course you're much more my type. Flat nose, klutzy . . .”

He said this in the same tone he'd use to say that a chipped vase had a certain appeal, and I liked that way of speaking, so I thought again how much I liked Mizuo.

“Okay, let's go see the midget,” I said. “It sounds neat.”

“You bet it is,” Mizuo replied, sipping his wine. “Even if it's a lie, even if it's who knows what, if it clears the air, you know, if it's fun, you might as well try it. As long as it makes you feel better, it's all right.”