The Briefcase by Hiromi Kawakami Read Free Book Online

glimpse of Sensei’s tweed coat between the trees.
    “Inky cap modashi !” Satoru shouted from further ahead. “A whole colony of them! Lots more than last year!” Satoru’s voice (or was it Toru’s?) was full of excitement as it echoed throughout the forest.

Mushroom Hunting, Part 2
    I WAS SITTING on a large tree stump and looking up at the sky.
    Sensei and Satoru and Toru had all ventured much further into the forest. The ta-ra-ra-ra-ra was now off in the distance and in its place I could hear a high-pitched ru-ru-ru-ru-ru .
    The area where I sat was slick with dampness. It wasn’t just that the ground was moist—all around me, it felt like it was bursting—with the leaves on the trees, the undergrowth, the countless microorganisms under the ground, the flat bugs crawling over the surface, the winged insects flitting through the air, the birds perched on branches, even the breath of the larger animals that inhabited the deeper forest.
    I could only see a small patch of sky, the part that was left open between the treetops of the forest around me. The branches seemed like a network that in some places almost obscured the sky. Once my eyes had adjusted to the faint light, I realized that the undergrowth was alive with all manner of things. Tiny orange mushrooms. Moss. Something that looked like coarse white veins on the underside of a leaf. What must be some kind of fungus. Dead beetles. Various kinds of ants. Centipedes. Moths on the backs of leaves.
    It seemed strange to be surrounded by so many living things. When I was in Tokyo, I couldn’t help but feel like I was always alone,
or occasionally in the company of Sensei. It seemed like the only living things in Tokyo were big like us. But of course, if I really paid attention, there were plenty of other living things surrounding me in the city as well. It was never just the two of us, Sensei and me. Even when we were at the bar, I tended to only take notice of Sensei. But Satoru was always there, along with the usual crowd of familiar faces. And I never really acknowledged that any of them were alive in any way. I never gave any thought to the fact that they were leading the same kind of complicated life as I was.
    Toru came back to where I was sitting.
    “Tsukiko, everything okay?” he asked as he showed me the handfuls of mushrooms he had collected.
    “Totally fine. Really,” I replied.
    “Well, I wish you would have come along with us,”Toru said.
    “Tsukiko can be a tad bit sentimental.” The instant I realized this was Sensei’s voice, he suddenly and unexpectedly emerged from the shade of the trees just behind me. Whether it was because his suit acted as protective coloring or he was particularly surefooted in the forest, until that moment I had been completely unaware of his presence.
    “You were sitting there all alone, lost in your thoughts, weren’t you?” Sensei went on. There were fallen leaves stuck here and there on his tweed jacket.
    “Do you mean to say she’s a girlish romantic?” Toru asked as he roared with laughter.
    “Girlish, indeed!” I replied, deadpan.
    “Well, then, would the young Miss Tsukiko like to help me prepare the soup?” Toru said, reaching into Satoru’s rucksack and taking out an aluminum pot and a portable cooking stove.
    “Could you fetch some water?” he asked, and I hurriedly stood up. He told me there was a stream just ahead, so I walked there to find water springing forth among large rocks. Catching some water in my
palms, I brought it to my lips. The water was icy cold, yet smooth and mellow. I caught more of it with my palms, bringing it to my lips over and over again.
     
     
    “HAVE A TASTE,” Satoru said to Sensei, who was sitting up straight, Japanese-style, his feet tucked under his legs on a newspaper that had been spread over the ground. Sensei sipped the mushroom soup.
    Satoru and Toru had skillfully prepared the mushrooms they had collected. Toru had cleaned the mushrooms of any dirt