The moment I opened the door to Shishou's room, I blurted out, "I, I found him. I found him. I really found him." Shishou was reading a newspaper spread out on the floor, looking like he'd just woken up, but he raised his eyes with an annoyed expression. "Calm down. Who did you find? ...And close the door first. It's freezing." I had hurried over so I didn't feel it, but it seemed to be getting quite cold outside. "I found him," I said, slipping off my shoes, closing the door, and sliding down to sit right in front of Shishou. "Found who?" "That unfriendly waitress." "Oh, really." Shishou looked back down and turned a page of the newspaper. I couldn't understand how the person in front of me could remain so calm, and irritation rushed from my feet all the way to my head. "Don't act all calm, it's no use." Looking back, I was saying some pretty unreasonable things, but the truth was I didn't have the luxury to think about the gap between the information I thought I was conveying and what was actually getting across to him. "I found Kyosuke-san's part-time job." "What?" Shishou leaned forward, folding the newspaper as he asked, "Where?" "Well, it's a coffee shop. He was working as a waitress..." Before I could even finish explaining, Shishou stood up with incredible momentum and started pacing around the room. "A coffee shop, you say. Where? Did you go inside?" I explained what had just happened. While walking around town looking for a ramen shop with a good reputation, I spotted someone who looked like Kyosuke in front of a coffee shop I happened to pass by.
Before I knew it, I had hidden myself and watched. He was watering the ornamental plants placed near the entrance of the shop. What's more, he was wearing a skirt and a white apron—something I had never seen him in before. Kyosuke-san, who was working as a freeter, apparently had two part-time jobs, but he wouldn't tell me what either of them was. Even if I knew, I wasn't going to go harass him or anything, so I didn't understand why he wouldn't tell me, but it had always been on my mind. And now, I had finally caught him in the act. As I watched from the shadow of a utility pole with a pounding heart, the entrance door opened, and a middle-aged man who looked like a customer came out. The man raised one hand and called out to Kyosuke, who was holding a watering can outside. Kyosuke gave a slight bow—just barely noticeable if you weren't looking for it—and muttered a reply. The man walked away with a wry smile. Soon after, Kyosuke disappeared back into the shop, and feeling as though I had uncovered some unbelievable secret, I couldn't contain my rushing emotions and flew all the way to Shishou's house. When I explained all this with wild gestures, Shishou's eyes lit up and he said, "I was raised being told this ever since I was a child: 'Work hard at whatever you do. Go out of your way to do the things people hate doing.'" He paused there, flashing a clear, unhesitating smile. "Let's go. To go harass him." Ah, this. In that instant, I understood everything. With the strange, suddenly spiked tension, Shishou started crawling around the room. Moving busily right in front of me as I wondered what he was doing, he flipped over cushions and cleared away bundles of old newspapers in the corner of the room.
Then, he picked up a miniature house made of paper from the kitchen, peered into it, and spat out, "Of course they're not here when I need them!" Hearing that made me feel uneasy. Shishou had been pounding the tatami mats in frustration, but when the sound of rain starting to fall outside caught his attention, he wore a look as if he were plotting something evil, and then shoved his head into the closet. I stood by the window and muttered, "Aw man, I didn't bring an umbrella." Still, thinking that Kyosuke had such bad timing right after watering the plants, I found it slightly amusing. "What do you think, looks like it's still gonna pour?" Shishou said, pulling some bizarre-looking item out of the closet. "Uh, probably." He grunted "Hmph" and started putting it on. It was a garment made of straw that covered his entire body. A mino—a traditional straw raincoat. Complete with a conical straw hat. It was such a bizarre outfit that it made you wonder what era he thought he was living in. "Listen. The moment I enter that shop, I'll take this off. Then, I'll look for somewhere inside to hang this dripping-wet thing. When that guy comes over and says, 'I'm sorry, sir, you can't do that,' you're going to yell, 'Doesn't this shop even have a place to hang rain gear?!'" "No thanks." "I see. Then I shall perform alone." Having briskly finished putting on the straw raincoat and hat, Shishou headed toward the door with a step that looked like he was about to break into a dance. "Hey, you can use my umbrella." I left the room, torn between whether I should stop this man or just join in on the fun. The shop was located a little off the main commercial district. It was an area lined with dingy multi-tenant buildings, and in the rain, the entire surroundings seemed wrapped in a gray monotone.
The sky grew even darker, and the rain looked like it was going to keep on coming. I pointed at the three-story building with the hand not holding the umbrella. The figure standing behind me nodded. Passersby cast hesitant, sideways glances at his eccentric appearance in the straw raincoat and hat. Go ahead, look. And please tell him clearly. That this is weird. The rain grew heavier. The bottoms of my trousers got wet, and an unpleasant damp feeling began to spread. As I quickened my pace, wanting to get inside anywhere just to get out of it, Shishou stopped moving abruptly, as if struck by something. The coffee shop was right under our noses. Wondering what was wrong, I looked at Shishou, and his expression had changed. The feverish, high-pitched excitement seemed to have suddenly cooled. "What's wrong?" It was a change that made me hesitate to even ask. Shishou stared at the facade of the coffee shop, and then gazed up at the entire building. Drawn in, I too raised my umbrella. It was an ordinary multi-tenant building. The coffee shop seemed to be named "Boston," judging by the sign at the entrance. You couldn't see the inside through the door fitted with frosted glass. There was a small window, but a model of a sailing ship was displayed on the inside, blocking the view just the same. On the second-floor window, the name of a consumer finance company was displayed. And on the third floor hung a modest sign reading something like an investigation agency. "Is it here?" Shishou muttered. Rainwater streamed down the rim of his gently conical straw hat. Beyond that stream were eyes that looked deeply sunken. Unable to say a word, the two of us stood side by side in the falling rain. I felt as though the door to a heavy past—one I couldn't ask about yet—was lying just on the other side.
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