“It doesn’t really matter to you if I live or die, does it, Ryuji? Sitting there calmly like that, laughing …” Asakawa wailed, knowing as he did that he was becoming shamefully hysterical.
“You’re talking like a woman now. If you’ve got time to bitch and whine like that you ought to use your head a bit more.”
Asakawa still glared at him resentfully.
“I mean, how would you prefer I put it? You’re my best friend. I don’t want you to die. I’m doing my best. I want you to do your best, too. We both have to do our best, for each other. Happy now?” Midway through his speech Ryuji’s tone suddenly became childish, and he finished with an obscene laugh.
As he laughed, the front door opened. Startled, Asakawa leaned over and peered through the kitchen at the entry hall. A young woman was bending over to remove a pair of white pumps. Her hair was cut short, brushing the tops of her ears, and her earrings gleamed white. She took her shoes off and raised her gaze, her eyes meeting Asakawa’s.
“Oh, pardon me. I thought the Professor was alone,” said the woman, covering her mouth with her hand. Her elegant body language and her pure white outfit clashed utterly with the apartment. Her legs below her skirt were slim and willowy, her face slender and intelligent; she looked like a certain female novelist who appeared in TV commercials.
“Come in.” Ryuji’s tone had changed. The vulgarity was concealed beneath a newfound dignity. “Allow me to introduce you. This is Miss Mai Takano from the philosophy department at Fukuzawa University. She’s one of the department’s star pupils, and always pays close attention in my classes. She’s probably the only one who really understands my lectures. This is Kazuyuki Asakawa, from the Daily News. He’s my … best friend.”
Mai Takano looked at Asakawa with some surprise. At this point he still didn’t know why she should be surprised. “Pleased to meet you,” said Mai, with a thrilling little smile and bow. The kind of smile that made any onlooker feel refreshed. Asakawa had never met such a beautiful woman. The fine texture of her skin, the way her eyes glowed, the perfect balance of her figure—not to mention the intelligence, class, and kindness she radiated from within. There was literally nothing to find fault with in this woman. Asakawa shrank back like a frog from a snake. Words failed him.
“Hey, say something.” Ryuji elbowed him in the ribs.
“Hello,” he said finally, awkwardly, but his gaze was still transfixed.
“Professor, were you out last night?” asked Mai, gracefully sliding her stockinged feet two or three steps closer.
“Actually, Takabayashi and Yagi invited me out with them, so …”
Now that they were standing next to each other, Asakawa could see that Mai was a good ten centimeters taller than Ryuji. She probably only weighed half as much as he did, though.
“I wish you’d tell me if you’re not coming home. I waited up for you.”
Asakawa suddenly returned to his senses. This was the voice he’d spoken to last night. This was the woman who’d answered the phone when he’d called.
Meanwhile, Ryuji was hanging his head like a boy scolded by his mother.
“Well, never mind. I’ll forgive you this time. Here, I brought you something.” She held out a paper bag. “I washed your underwear for you. I was going to straighten up here, too, but you get angry when I move your books.”
From this exchange Asakawa couldn’t help but guess the nature of their relationship. It was obvious that they were not only teacher and student, but lovers as well. On top of that, she’d waited here alone for him last night! Were they that close? He felt the kind of annoyance he sometimes felt when he saw a badly mismatched couple, but this went far beyond that. Everything to do with Ryuji was crazy. Then there was the love in Ryuji’s eyes as he gazed at Mai. He was like a chameleon, changing his expression, even his speech patterns. For an instant, Asakawa was mad enough to want to open Mai’s eyes by exposing Ryuji’s crimes.
“It’s nearly lunchtime, Professor. Shall I fix something? Mr Asakawa, you’ll be staying too, won’t you? Have you any requests?”
Asakawa looked at Ryuji, uncertain how to respond.
“Don’t be shy. Mai’s quite the chef.”
“I’ll leave it up to you,” Asakawa finally managed to say.
Mai immediately left for a nearby market to buy ingredients for lunch. Even after she had gone, Asakawa stared dreamily toward the door.
“Man, you look like a deer caught in the headlights of a car,” said Ryuji with an amused leer.
“Oh, sorry.”
“Look, we don’t have time for you to space out like this.” Ryuji slapped Asakawa lightly on the cheek. “We have things to talk about while she’s gone.”
“You haven’t shown Mai the video.”
“What do you think I am?”
“Okay, then. Let’s get through it. I’ll go after we eat.”
“Right, now the first thing you have to find is the antenna.”
“The antenna?”
“You know, the spot where the broadcast originated.”
He couldn’t afford to relax, then. On the way home he’d have to stop by the library and read up on airwaves. Part of him wanted to rush down to South Hakone now, but he knew it would be quicker in the long run to do some background reading first, to get an idea of what he was looking for. The more he knew about the characteristics of airwaves, and about how to track down pirate broadcasts, the more options he’d be able to give himself.
There was a mountain of things to be done. But now Asakawa felt distracted, his thoughts somewhere else. He couldn’t get her face, her body, out of his mind. Why was Mai with a guy like Ryuji? He felt both puzzled and angry.
“Hey, are you listening to me?” Ryuji’s voice brought Asakawa back down to earth. “There was a scene in the video with a baby boy, remember?”
“Yes.” He chased Mai’s image from his mind momentarily and recalled the vision of the newborn, covered in slippery amniotic fluid. But the transition didn’t go well; he ended up imagining Mai wet and naked.
“When I saw that scene I got a strange sensation in my own hands. Almost as if I were holding that boy myself.”
Sensation. Holding someone. In the arms of his imagination he was holding first Mai and then the baby boy, in blinding succession. Then, finally, he had it—the feeling he’d had watching the video, of holding the infant and then throwing both hands up in the air. Ryuji had felt the exact same sensation. This had to be significant.
“I felt it too. I definitely felt something wet and slippery.”
“You too, huh? So what does it mean?”
Ryuji got down on all fours, bringing his face up close to the television screen as he replayed that scene. It lasted about two minutes, the baby boy giving his birth-cry all the while. They could see a pair of graceful hands beneath the child’s head and bottom.
“Wait a minute, what’s this?” Ryuji paused the video and began to advance it a frame at a time. Just for a second the screen went dark. Watching it at normal speed it was so brief as to be hardly noticeable. But watching it over and over, frame by frame, it was possible to pick out moments of total blackness.
“There it is again,” cried Ryuji. For a time he arched his back like a cat and stared at the screen intently, and then he moved his