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Resigning herself to the worst, Aomame cautiously stepped out of the bathroom
with the gym bag in her left hand, right hand ready to reach for the gun, but there was
no sign of anything unusual in the room.
Buzzcut stood in the center, his arms folded,
eyes narrowed in thought. Ponytail was still in the chair by the door, coolly observing
the room. He had the calm eyes of a bomber’s tail gunner, accustomed to sitting there
all alone, looking at the blue sky, eyes taking on the sky’s tint.
“You must be worn out,” Buzzcut said. “How about a cup of coffee? We have
sandwiches, too.”
“Thanks, but I’ll have to pass on that. I can’t eat right after work. My appetite
starts to come back after an hour or so.”
Buzzcut nodded. Then he pulled a thick envelope from his inner jacket pocket.
After
checking its weight, he handed it to Aomame.
The man said, “I believe you will find here something more than the agreed-upon
fee. As I said earlier, we strongly urge you to keep this matter a secret.”
“Hush money?” Aomame said jokingly.
“For the extra effort we have put you through,” the man said, without cracking a
smile.
“I have a policy of strict confidentiality, whatever the fee. That is part of my work.
No word of this will leak out
under any circumstances,” Aomame said. She put the
unopened envelope into her gym bag. “Do you need a receipt?”
Buzzcut shook his head. “That will not be necessary. This is just between us. There
is no need for you to report this as income.”
Aomame nodded silently.
“It must have taken a great deal of strength,” Buzzcut said, as if probing for
information.
“More than usual,” she said.
“Because he is no ordinary person.”
“So it would seem.”
“He is utterly irreplaceable,” he said. “He has suffered terrible physical pain for a
very long time. He has taken all of our suffering
and pain upon himself, as it were.
We can only hope that he can have some small degree of relief.”
“I can’t say for sure because I don’t know the basic cause of his pain,” Aomame
said, choosing her words carefully, “but I
do
think that his pain may have been
reduced somewhat.”
Buzzcut nodded. “As far as I can tell, you seem quite drained.”
“Perhaps I am,” Aomame said.
While Aomame and Buzzcut were speaking, Ponytail remained seated by the door,
wordlessly observing the room. His face was immobile; only his eyes moved. His
expression never changed. She had no idea whether
he was even hearing their
conversation. Isolated, taciturn, attentive, he kept watch for any sign of enemy fighter
planes among the clouds. At first they would be no bigger than poppy seeds.
After some hesitation, Aomame asked Buzzcut, “This may be none of my
business, but
drinking coffee, eating ham sandwiches: are these not violations of your
religion?”
Buzzcut turned to look at the coffeepot and the tray of sandwiches on the table.
Then the faintest possible smile crossed his lips.
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“Our religion doesn’t have such strict precepts. Alcohol and tobacco are generally
forbidden, and there are some prohibitions regarding sexual matters, but we are
relatively free where food is concerned. Most of the time we eat only the simplest
foods, but coffee and ham sandwiches are not especially forbidden.”
Aomame just nodded, offering no opinion on the matter.
“The religion brings many people together, so some degree of discipline is
necessary, of course, but if you focus too much on formalities,
you can lose sight of
your original purpose. Things like precepts and doctrines are, ultimately, just
expedients. The important thing is not the frame itself but what is inside the frame.”
“And your Leader provides the content to fill the frame.”
“Exactly. He can hear the voices that we cannot hear. He is a special person.”
Buzzcut looked into Aomame’s eyes again. Then he said, “Thank you for all your
efforts today. And luckily the rain seems to have stopped.”
“The thunder was terrible,” Aomame said.
“Yes, very,” Buzzcut said, though he himself did not seem particularly interested
in the thunder and rain.
Aomame gave him a little bow and headed for the door, gym bag in hand.
“Wait
a moment,” Buzzcut called from behind. His voice had a sharp edge.
Aomame came to a stop in the center of the room and turned around. Her heart
made a sharp, dry sound. Her right hand casually moved to her hip.
“The yoga mat,” the young man said. “You’re forgetting your yoga mat. It’s still
on the bedroom floor.”
Aomame smiled. “He is lying on top of it, sound asleep. We can’t just shove him
aside and pull it out. I’ll give it to you if you like. It’s not expensive, and it’s had a lot
of use. If you don’t need it, throw it away.”
Buzzcut thought about this for a moment and finally nodded. “Thank you again.
I’m sure you’re very tired.”
As Aomame neared the door, Ponytail stood and opened it for her. Then he bowed
slightly.
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