‘Well, you just told me something intriguing. The newspaper reported that he died of heart failure.’

‘Really?’ she asked, looking bewildered. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure. I think I overheard someone talking about it in the office. You know, the usual bankers’ chat. We tend to keep an eye on anything that might remotely affect the stock market. A lot of it is just rumours meant to fuel speculation. If I were you, I wouldn’t read too much into it.’

‘Uh-huh.’

Eri took a sip of her sake. ‘But why do you ask about him?’

Shoji thought hard about what to say next. ‘It’s a long story I don’t want to go into but, in short, I had a nasty brush with his family. An exchange I had with one of his men left me wondering if I’d known them previously, back in Fukuoka.’

She gave him a fleeting smile. ‘If you’re not sure, why would you think I’d know?’

‘Fair question. I’m not in Fukuoka much these days, and I just wondered whether you know if the Katou family has any link to our hometown?’

‘Not that I know of. I’m not home that much either.’

He paused. ‘Do you think you can ask your old man?’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’ll let you know if he knows anything.’

Eri brushed her hair behind her ear, and Shoji caught a glimpse of a vintage man’s watch on her wrist. Silver-rimmed, paired with an aged, brown-leather strap, which emphasised her slim wrist.

‘You’ve changed, Shoji,’ she continued. ‘You’ve become much more assertive now. You surprise me. The last time I saw you, you were just a kid.’

He didn’t say it, but he thought that she too had changed.

Eri had always been attractive, the object of attention of the bookshop’s customers, but she gave off an aura of belonging to a different world. But, seeing her here, he couldn’t detect even a glimpse of that coldness. Perhaps it had been his youthful awkwardness.

Shoji had planned to ask Eri about Kazuhiro Katou and then have a short catch-up, but they ended up talking for a long time, reminiscing about their hometown and their memories of working at the bookshop together. That night, Shoji learned that he and Eri had had the same form teacher, but at different times. She was five years his senior.

‘You look younger than your age,’ he said. ‘If you hadn’t told me, I would’ve thought you were just a couple of years older than me.’

Eri’s cheeks were red. Was she flustered, or was she getting drunk?

‘You haven’t told me what brought you to Tokyo,’ she said. ‘Are you wooing a Tokyo lady?’