“Revising a dictionary is just as much work and takes just as much time as making a new one,” Nishioka said. “You know that better than anyone, boss.”
“Regardless, we have to do it.” Araki grimaced. “Making The Great Passage will cost money. They want us to help pay for it. That’s the long and short of it.”
Revised dictionaries sold well. Given the choice between a revised edition and an unrevised edition, most people would choose the one with more up-to-date information.
Gembu Student’s Dictionary of Japanese was a smallish volume that Araki and Professor Matsumoto had put together, with solid sales among elementary and junior high school students. That must be why the company had ordered yet another revision, following on the heels of a major overhaul done just the year before.
“What will Professor Matsumoto say?”
“He’ll probably go along with it. The process of revision is bound to help in making The Great Passage.” Araki sounded as if he were trying to persuade himself of this. “And Majime, since you’re new to dictionary making, instead of plunging right into The Great Passage, you should get your feet wet with the Student’s Dictionary first.”
Araki had knocked himself out planning The Great Passage. Now that a damper had been put on the project, he should have been feeling more frustrated than anyone, yet he was making the best of it. The advice to gain experience made sense, too, so Majime was forced to swallow his words.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” he asked. “What is it?”
Araki made a noncommittal noise and looked away, scratching his chin as if troubled. “Nothing. Nishioka, come with me,” he said, and left the room.
Majime and Nishioka exchanged looks again.
“What’s up?”
“Who knows?”
From the corridor, Araki barked, “Nishioka, are you coming?”
“Coming, boss!” To Majime he said, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ve gotta go. Lock up when you leave.”
Now Majime was alone in the office. He spread out the unfinished love letter on his desk, but all he could think about was Araki and Nishioka. He took his teacup out into the corridor, planning to make himself a cup of hot tea.
The shadowy corridor was empty. He put his ear to the door of the reference room, but he couldn’t hear anything. They must have left the building. He went into the old kitchenette, prepared his tea, and returned to his desk.
With dusk setting in, the room felt quieter than usual. He switched on the fluorescent light overhead. The shadows deepened until the bookshelves lining the walls looked like a black forest.
He patted the cushion on his chair and sat down. Sipping his tea, he thought about what to write next. Everything was up in the air. No telling where either the dictionary or his love life might be headed. He sat in a room overflowing with books and words, but which of them might provide a way out of this impasse? He didn’t know.
But that didn’t mean he should sit back and do nothing, petrified. If he did that, nothing would change. Feeling the weight of the bookcases bearing down on him from behind, he picked up his pen. Slowly and carefully he proceeded to fill in the space on the white sheet of paper in front of him, giving form to his feelings.
By a little after eight he was finished. Nishioka hadn’t come back. Majime laid the missive on Nishioka’s desk, but then hesitated—he certainly didn’t want to create the impression that the love letter was intended for Nishioka. He attached a note: “Please give me your comments.”
He turned out the light and locked the door, then made sure the reference room was locked and the gas was off in the kitchenette. No one knew quite how or when the practice got started, but it had become customary for the last person out to make sure the doors were locked and there was no danger of fire. Nothing in the office had any monetary value, but the materials they had gathered and the words they had accumulated were priceless.
Majime dropped off the key with the custodian on his way out of the building. His breath made a thin, white cloud. Time to get out a warmer coat. Burying his chin in his scarf, he headed home.
When Majime got back to the lodging house, he bumped into Také, just emerging from the bath.
“You’re home. How was work?” Her cheeks were flushed pink.
It occurred to Majime that although he and Kaguya lived under the same roof, they kept such different hours that he had never seen her fresh from the bath. He found this regrettable. Then he felt embarrassed for thinking such a thing and said an inward apology—though whether he owed an apology to Také or to Kaguya, he wasn’t sure.
“Fine, thanks.”
“It’s cold today, isn’t it? Why don’t you come up for tea?”
“Thanks, I will.”
He washed up before going to Také’s room. As he sat down at the kotatsu table heater, he let out a sigh. He felt something soft and heavy on his lap. Tora had been sleeping in the warmth under the kotatsu.
“I guess you two had a nice time at the amusement park,” said Také, deftly setting out tea and a small dish of lightly pickled Chinese cabbage. “Kaguya told me about it. She sounded pleased.”
“Did she? I hope she had a good time.”
Majime reached for some Chinese cabbage with a toothpick. His heart was pounding so loud it was almost embarrassing. Také might not approve of his feelings for Kaguya. Why would she? He and his books had taken over the entire first floor, and now he was trying to get her granddaughter in his clutches, too. “Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile,” she must have been thinking. But he wasn’t trying to get Kaguya in his clutches—he sincerely wanted a relationship with her, that’s all. If she was willing.
“I couldn’t keep up my end of the conversation too well, so I was afraid she might have been bored.”
He spoke with humility, aiming to stay on Také’s good side. Finding his emotions hard to control, he crunched the pickled cabbage rapidly. Little noises like those made by a hamster nibbling leaves filled the room.
“She’s turned chicken,” said Také with a sigh.
“Chicken?”
Majime swallowed and tilted his head, considering this. The Kaguya he knew was always in command of herself. The adjective chicken struck him as inappropriate.
“Yes, ever since she broke up with her old boyfriend. He wanted to marry her, but she turned him down. Wouldn’t go with him on an overseas assignment. Said she wanted to devote herself to becoming a chef.”
“Well, I’ve got no plans to go overseas.” He half-rose from his seat. The statement ended in a yelp when Tora scratched him in protest.
“She’s got such a one-track mind. I don’t suppose many men would find her appealing.” Také sighed again. “And she’s not in the market for anyone, either. All she wants to do is focus on her career. She was seeing someone else in Kyoto, but that didn’t last.”