After breakfast they went to the college swimming pool and swam together for a half hour. It was Sunday morning and they nearly had the pool to themselves, and could enjoy going at their own pace. Tsukuru concentrated on moving the required muscles in a precise, controlled fashion—back muscles, hip muscles, abs. Breathing and kicking were already second nature. Once he got into a rhythm, the rest happened on its own. As always Haida swam ahead and Tsukuru followed. Tsukuru watched as he swam, mesmerized by the subtle white foam rhythmically generated by Haida’s gentle kicks. The scene always left him slightly hypnotized.

By the time they had showered and changed in the locker room, Haida’s eyes no longer had that clear and penetrating light, but had regained their usual gentle look. Exercise had dulled Tsukuru’s earlier confusion. The two of them left the gym and walked to the library. They hardly spoke, but that wasn’t unusual. “I have something I need to look up at the library,” Haida said. And this wasn’t unusual either. Haida liked looking things up at the library. Generally this meant I want to be alone for a while. “I’ll go back and do some laundry,” Tsukuru said.

They came to the library entrance, gave a quick wave to each other, and went their separate ways.

He didn’t hear from Haida for quite a while. Haida was absent from the pool and class. Tsukuru returned to a solitary life, eating alone, swimming alone, taking notes in class, memorizing foreign vocabulary and sentences. Time passed indifferently, barely leaving a trace. Occasionally he would put the record of “Le mal du pays” on the turntable and listen to it.

After the first week with no word from Haida, the thought struck Tsukuru that his friend may have decided not to see him anymore. Without a word, giving no reason, he may have just gone away somewhere. Like his four friends had done back in his hometown.

Tsukuru began to think that his younger friend had left him because of the graphic sexual dream he’d experienced. Maybe something had made it possible for Haida to observe all that had taken place in Tsukuru’s consciousness, and it had disgusted him. Or maybe it angered him.

No, that wasn’t possible—the experience couldn’t have slipped outside his consciousness. There’s no way Haida could have known about it. Still, Tsukuru couldn’t shake the feeling that Haida’s clear eyes had honed in on the twisted aspects that lay buried in Tsukuru’s mind, and the thought left him feeling ashamed.