a long while, the rainy wind whipping by my motorbike felt good. * * * “Ms. Natsumi, hey! That place looked like Versailles!” I shouted without thinking. Out of the corner of my eye, I’d spotted an enormous European-style mansion, surrounded by a green lawn. As Natsumi steered the motorbike, she laughed. “God, you’re hilarious, Hodaka! That’s the State Guest House; this area is Akasaka imperial property.” I turned red. “You’re always having a good time, aren’t you?” I gazed at the back of Natsumi’s raincoat, glad she couldn’t see my flushed face. We were headed to the next interview site on her motorbike. Rain-soaked scenery flashed past and flowed away behind us. I still had no idea what part of Tokyo I was in, but no matter where I went or how much I saw, I never got tired of the view. A park like a forest, shining buildings reflecting the sky, old-fashioned shopping streets full of people, a stadium with a shape straight out of science fiction, churches and torii gates in unexpected places, clusters of high-rise apartment buildings that put thousands of rooms in one view—it felt like a box garden crammed with all kinds of different places, and even now, the fact that the rain was falling on me here, in this city, felt unreal. The company was a small editing agency run by Mr. Suga. The first part of the job I’d been told to do consisted of general chores. The office was also where Mr. Suga lived, so I woke up every morning at seven and fixed breakfast. I’d never cooked before, so I really had no idea what I was doing at first, but fortunately, Mr. Suga wasn’t exactly nitpicky about chores. He ate everything I brought him—from my clumsy fried eggs and miso soup to the instant miso soup and side dishes I bought at convenience stores—unenthusiastically but indiscriminately, and without comment. Then came cleaning and tidying up. I cleared away the cups and glasses Page 31 Goldenagato | mp4directs.com