17

At the Board Meeting that morning, Sukenobu had proposed that Namba be made Manager of the Third Sales Division, with responsibility for the zero-emissions vehicle. All the senior executives bar Noda had agreed, and Noda had returned to his office with a heavy heart. The President had instructed Noda, as Namba’s direct superior, to deliver the bad news. Noda was sure Namba wouldn’t take it lying down.

Ah, so this was Sukenobu’s revenge, Noda thought as he looked out of his window onto the sun-drenched streets below. He gave a wry smile. It was certainly a token revenge, enough for Sukenobu to feel some self-satisfaction. At the meeting, Sukenobu had cunningly presented the proposal to make the President’s nephew Manager of the Development Office, as if it had been his own idea. All in attendance had summarily approved Sukenobu’s next proposal to transfer Namba, a man whose nature made him utterly unsuited to sales. To Noda, the total acquiescence of the Board suggested that Sukenobu had been maneuvering beforehand. The fact that Noda hadn’t even been consulted was typical of Sukenobu. To his infantile mind, even taking a rival by surprise could constitute a sort of revenge.

Only Sukenobu knew that Noda could not oppose the transfer, for it was Noda himself who’d first suggested making Kinichi Manager of the Development Office. And the President would have remembered that very well. The President himself was only too delighted to let his nephew serve in that role, and didn’t appear overly concerned with Noda’s misgivings about how Namba would react.

Serves him right, thought Noda. Namba had brought it on himself. At the same time, Noda regretted having been so hasty in launching his counterattack, without thought for the consequences, the sole purpose being to parry Sukenobu’s offensive. But Noda had suggested the change in the sure knowledge that the President’s nephew would sooner or later be sent to the front line of production, and that Namba would eventually lose his place in the Development Department. What’s more, he firmly believed that it signaled positive progress for the company. There were several other departments where Namba could manifest his talents.

Even so, Noda hadn’t thought of making him Manager of Sales! Sukenobu must have hatched that one, he thought. The Manager of the Development Office was equal in rank to a Deputy Manager, so it was actually a promotion for Namba. Sukenobu and the rest must have been saying, “You’ve developed the zero-emissions vehicle, now go and sell it! And you’ve got your promotion, so what are you moaning about?!” Brilliant! After all, Namba had already made quite a nuisance of himself with his ideas about selling the vehicle. As he looked down on the streets below, Noda smiled and shook his head a number of times.

Noda thought back to the dream he’d had a few days earlier. In the dream, Namba had been selling vegetables. That must have been a premonition that Namba would be transferred to sales. Noda had been concerned about how Sukenobu would strike back, and just as Paprika had said, the solution had appeared in the dream. If Namba had actually grown the vegetables he was selling in the dream, then the dream had even presented the solution – that Namba should be put in charge of selling the zero-emissions vehicle.

Noda suddenly straightened his back and laughed aloud. The code name for the zero-emissions vehicle was “The Vegetable.” He gasped in amazement and shook his head again. The strange power of dreams, the mysterious working of the subconscious had finally come home to him.

This was no time for mere wonderment, nevertheless. Noda had a duty to perform, one that might not be all that pleasant. Remembering Paprika’s instruction to “solve his problems with human relations,” Noda had his secretary call Namba.

However contentious, however stubborn Namba may have been, he would never have been appointed Manager of the Development Office without a basic grasp of business etiquette. He arrived neatly dressed, quite in contrast to his usual slipshod appearance; he’d even combed his hair.

“You wanted me?”

“Yes. Some staff transfers were decided at this morning’s Board Meeting. You’re the new Manager of the Third Sales Division. Take a seat.”

Noda spoke quickly, casually. He avoided looking Namba in the eye until he’d shown him toward the lounge and sat facing him across the low table. When he finally glanced at him, he noticed that Namba’s eyes were glistening and darting about madly. He appeared not quite sure how he should react to the news.

“Did you recommend the move?” Namba said in a stony voice.

“Well – somewhat against my better inclinations …” Noda fended off the question; he hated passing the buck.

“Thank you very much!” Namba lowered his head slightly as an eerie smile spread over his features. He was unusually calm, but it was quite unlike him to use sarcasm. Noda gazed steadily at Namba’s angular face.

“That’s exactly what I was hoping for! I asked you sometime ago, in passing, and I was sure you’d forgotten all about it.” Suddenly, Namba started to sound excited. “If anything, I thought it would be better to transfer to sales straight after the vehicle was completed. But never mind. I’ll be promoted anyway, to compensate for the time it took. Or perhaps it just took time to get promoted. In any case, I could wish for nothing better. Though of course, I understand it’s all thanks to your kind consideration. But I really am so sorry. I thought you’d forgotten all about me asking you for this so long ago. I’ve been making a nuisance of myself lately, partly to get you to remember it. This is something that will affect my whole future, you see. But then I thought I couldn’t keep bothering you about the same thing all the time. So that’s why it all came out in that rather unfortunate way.” Namba spoke with the fast delivery of a skilled tactician, yes, the loquacity of the self-satisfied.

Noda could no longer hold back a snigger. He’d remembered that when the zero-emissions vehicle was first being developed, Namba had let it slip that he had a plan for marketing the vehicle. He said he wanted to be transferred to sales as soon as the vehicle was commercialized. At the time, Noda had thought it nonsense, assuming it to be nothing more than a momentary whim, and had proceeded to forget all about it. The fact that Namba now challenged virtually everything, and kept sticking his oar into the sales program at every opportunity, obviously came from his dissatisfaction at not getting his own way.

“What’s so funny?” Namba reacted to Noda’s snigger with a laugh of his own. “You’re imagining what kind of blunders I’ll make as a Manager of Sales? Well, you may be right. To an experienced campaigner like yourself, it must seem dangerous to put me in that position.”

“No, no. That’s not true …”

“Yes, it is. I’m well aware of my own weaknesses. But even a fool like me will consider his future, won’t he.”

Not only was he a maverick, but he also had a sharper mind than Noda had previously given him credit for. He had ambition to get ahead in life. He must have realized that if he’d stayed on as Manager of the Development Office, he would never have made it to Senior Director. If a man like him were made Manager of Sales, he would learn the principles and techniques of sales with the same enthusiasm that he’d applied to research and development. He would convince himself that he was now a “sales professional.” Using his loquacity, he would quickly learn the skills of personal relations and other things required of the Manager of Sales. As Namba continued to speak, his eyes glistening with joy and relief and hope, he started to resemble Toratake. He began to look like someone who was very dear to Noda.

“And will Kinichi be my successor?”

“You mean you’d already thought of that?”

“I’m not a complete idiot, you know.” Namba grinned again. It seemed he’d long since foreseen that he would eventually lose his status as Manager of the Development Office to the President’s nephew, and had mentally prepared himself for his new position.

Noda’s dream had been trying to make him remember. It had been trying to remind him that Namba had expressed a wish to sell the zero-emissions vehicle (“vegetable”) that he’d developed (“grown”). After Namba had left the room, Noda gasped in astonishment on realizing the true meaning of the dream for the first time. In the dream, everything had been resolved. Released from his sense of guilt, Noda felt his spirits lifted.

“Right!” he murmured quietly. This was the perfect time to call Shinohara. In spite of Paprika’s advice, he’d hesitated to make the call, partly out of self-consciousness, partly because he was afraid to learn the awful truth about Toratake.

He’d copied Shinohara’s telephone number into his diary from a list of junior-high-school alumni. He hadn’t spoken to him for six months. That was when Shinohara had called to tell him about a reunion to be held in a restaurant in their old village, which had since been upgraded to a town.

Shinohara had inherited his father’s hardware store. He appeared quite taken aback to actually hear from Noda. “What a surprise!” he said, his voice leaping with surprise. “How have you been? Everyone wants to see you again!”

“Yes, I’m sorry I can never make it.” Noda had forgotten his preoccupation with Shinohara’s role in the gang of bullies. “It’s just, well, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh yes? What is it?”

“How long is it since Toratake died?”

“Since Toratake what?”

Noda raised his voice. “You must know he was my best friend at school? I’ve been thinking about him a lot recently. So I wondered when—”

“Hold on, hold on! What are you talking about? Toratake isn’t dead! He’s as alive as you or I! He runs an inn now.”

“What? …” Noda was stunned.

Shinohara laughed. “Who on earth told you he was dead? Someone’s been winding you up!”

“What do you mean?! You called to tell me about it!”

“And why would I do that? Yes, I called while you were at university, to tell you about a class reunion. That’s when I told you that Takao had died.”

Noda was at a loss for words. He’d completely forgotten that Toratake’s given name was “Takao.” Noda and Toratake had been on first name terms. Yet it was not Takao Toratake but Akishige’s crony Takao who had died. Noda had been laboring under a delusion for thirty years.

“I think you must have made some mistake,” said Shinohara.

Noda moved the receiver from his mouth and sighed quietly.

“Yes. I must have.”

“Toratake would go mad if he heard that. He’s always saying how much he wants to see you.”

If that was so, Toratake must no longer have felt any resentment about Noda’s betrayal. As the only one to leave the old village, Noda had continued to harbor bad feelings that had long been forgotten among those who’d stayed. Those old complexes had all been dissolved and resolved as people forged new relationships in the new town.

“What did Takao die of?”

“Tetanus, poor bloke.”

The idea that it was suicide must also have been a trick of Noda’s memory. He probably hadn’t even asked Shinohara what had caused Takao’s death in the first place.

After promising to attend the next reunion without fail, Noda hung up. His dreams had been trying to tell him all along: Toratake’s death had been nothing but an illusion. That was why Toratake had appeared in the old inn, disguised as a tiger. That was why he’d entered Noda’s room, disguised as the boy Torao.

He would see Toratake again at that year’s class reunion. For a moment, Noda smiled as memories of their boyhood friendship came flooding back. He wanted to share this joy with someone. The only possible candidate was Paprika. Ever since they’d parted, he’d longed to see her again, speak to her again. Though he felt a little ashamed of that sentiment, he convinced himself that he would, after all, merely be reporting something to her. He called her apartment. But of course. It was the middle of the day. She wasn’t there.