The Miracles of the Namiya General Store

by Keigo Higashino

  No way, thought Kosuke. Why’d this have to happen now?

  The various explanations for the breakup were hopelessly tangled. Some said it was because Paul McCartney’s wife and Yoko Ono couldn’t get along, but others blamed George Harrison for sabotaging their final project. There was no telling what was true from what was false.

  “Here’s one,” said one of Kosuke’s friends. “Did you guys know the Beatles really didn’t want to come to Japan? Their label knew it meant big bucks and forced them into it. They were through with concerts and wanted to back out, but they had no choice. Gotta figure, they stopped playing concerts right after that.”

  Kosuke had heard this one before, but he didn’t believe it. Or perhaps more accurately, he didn’t want to believe it.

  “Yeah, but I heard they put on an incredible show, and they looked like they were having a great time.”

  “They weren’t. They weren’t even planning to play a real set. They figured the crowd would be screaming so loud that no one would hear them playing, so they thought they could just come onstage and sing and play whatever, wouldn’t matter. But the audience here was way quieter than they expected, and everyone could hear their performance perfectly fine, so partway through the set, they had to buckle down and do it right.”

  Kosuke shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”

  “You can say that, but it doesn’t change things. Listen, I don’t want to believe it, either. But that’s what happened. The Beatles are human, too. They thought Japan was just some little island, you know, basically the boonies. They figured they’d ham it up onstage and take the first plane back to England.”

  Kosuke shook his head. The broadcast of the Beatles arriving in Japan replayed in his mind’s eye, along with the tear-streaked face of his cousin as he watched the screen. If what this friend had said was true, what was he to make of those tears?

  That day, when he got home from school, he shut himself up in his room and binged on the Beatles, song after song. He could not accept that there would never be another one.

  Time passed insufferably. Summer vacation made no difference to his mood. He was hung up on the Beatles. He heard that they were coming out with Let It Be, the movie, but there was nowhere for it to play in his town. According to rumors, if you saw the movie, you would get why they broke up. Wondering about what the movie was going to say was enough to keep Kosuke awake at night.

  As his generation was being whipped around by the news, Kosuke was about to be backed into a corner by the hardest decision of his life.

  One night, as he was listening to the Beatles, just like any other night, his bedroom door swung open. It was Kimiko. He was going to say she could have at least knocked first, but he couldn’t speak. His mother’s face was graver than he’d ever seen it.

  “Can you come down to the living room? It’s important.”

  Kosuke nodded and switched off his stereo. He had no idea what this was all about, but he had sensed something was coming, and it wasn’t going to be good.

  His father was sitting in an armchair with a glass of brandy. Expensive stuff. He’d brought it home on a trip abroad because it was tax-free.

  When Kosuke sat down, his father began. What he said next turned Kosuke’s world upside down.

  “We’re moving at the end of the month. Start getting your things together. Don’t tell a soul.”

  Kosuke didn’t get it. “What’s happening?” he asked. “What’s the hurry?”

  Sadayuki was ready with an answer. “Son, I’m a businessman. And business is like war. It makes a big difference how much your enemies get from you. You follow me?”

  He was always saying stuff like this. Kosuke nodded. Sadayuki went on.

  “In war, sometimes you have to retreat. If you get killed, it’s over anyway, get me?”

  This time, Kosuke didn’t nod. Maybe that happened in a real war, but did people actually get killed over business?

  Unfazed, Sadayuki continued. “At the end of the month, we’re going to retreat. This house? We’re leaving it to the enemies. But that’s okay. There’s no reason to worry. All you need to do is keep quiet and follow our lead. You’ll have to switch schools, but that won’t be a problem. The timing is perfect with summer vacation and everything. With the first trimester done, it’ll make it easier.”

  Kosuke was horrified. He had to start over, at a totally new school?

  “It’s really no big deal,” his father said. “Kids have to switch schools all the time when their fathers change jobs. It’s not unusual.”

  For the first time in Kosuke’s life, his father’s words left him uneasy. Uneasy about life itself.

  The next day, Kosuke approached his mother as she was cooking in the kitchen.

  “Is this a fly-by-night?”

  Kimiko had been mixing up a stir-fry. Her hands froze. “Who said that to you?”

  “No one. But based on what Dad said, that’s what we’re doing.”

  Kimiko sighed and stirred the pan again. “Don’t repeat that to anyone.”

  He was hoping she would contradict him, but he had hoped in vain. The world went dark.

  “Why do we have to do that? Are we broke or something?”

  There was no response. Kimiko worked her hands in silence.

  “What’s happening? What about high school? Which school am I supposed to go to?”

  Kimiko turned her neck, very slightly. “We’ll figure that out once we get to where we’re going.”

  “Where are we going? Where are we going to live?”

  “Enough, Kosuke.” His mother turned her back on him. “If you want to complain, save it for your father. This was his decision.”

  Kosuke didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know if he should be sad or angry.

  For days on end, he barely left his room. All he did was listen to his Beatles records. Headphones on, volume at full blast, he could drown out the pain.

  But this last remaining solace was soon taken away.

  “We’re getting rid of the stereo,” his father announced one day.

  Of course, Kosuke didn’t let it go without a fight. “Like hell you are,” he retorted. But Sadayuki wouldn’t hear any of it.

  “If we tried moving with that bulky thing, we’d barely make it out of town. I’ll buy you a new one once we’ve made it to the next step. Until then, do without.”

  Kosuke exploded. “We’re not moving—we’re running away!”

  Sadayuki glared at him. His look was fatal.

  “One more peep out of you, and you’ll be sorry, kid.” He sounded like a member of the yakuza.

  “Let’s stop. Please. Why do we have to be so sneaky?”

  “Shut up. Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

  “But—”

  “They’ll murder us.” Sadayuki’s eyes were bulging. “If they catch us hightailing it out of here, we’ll each get a bullet in the head. You want that? We’ve got one shot at this, and we can’t afford to let a single thing go wrong. If we blow it, the three of us will have to hang ourselves. We’re this close to being completely screwed, Kosuke. That’s why I need you to cooperate.”

  His father’s eyes were bloodshot. Kosuke was nowhere close to speaking. Something was shaking loose inside him. His world was crumbling apart.

  A few days later, some men he’d never seen before came by the house and carried away every piece of audio equipment in his room. One of the men handed Kimiko some cash. Sadayuki was nowhere in sight.

  The room looked naked without the stereo. Kosuke felt his blood begin to boil. He wished he were dead. There wasn’t anything to live for anymore.

  Since he couldn’t listen to the Beatles, there was no reason to stay home. Kosuke started taking long walks, but he never saw his friends. He felt that if he did, he’d wind up saying something about the escape. And if anyone came over, it would be difficult to hide that his stereo was missing.

  He didn’t have much money in his pocket. That ru
led out the arcade, since he couldn’t stay long anyway. Most of the time, his walks took him to the library. The big library in town was unusually sleepy, except for the private rooms, which were always crowded with students taking refuge in the air-conditioning. Most of them were in high school, or one year out, studying for college entrance exams. As he eyed them studying like crazy, he wondered if he’d ever have the chance.

  He had put a lot of stock in what his parents said, especially Sadayuki. Up until this point, he had been proud to have him for a dad; he thought everything Sadayuki said was right. He’d honestly believed that if he followed in his father’s footsteps, someday he would find himself just as successful.

  But that wasn’t how things played out. Kosuke had overheard enough of his parents’ conversations to piece together the situation. Not only was his father a failed business tycoon, he was a pathetic coward. He was going to scramble off in the moonlight and leave his pile of debt for someone else to clean up.

  Somehow he had bungled things so badly at the company that the damage was irreparable. Next month, the truth would come out. He hadn’t said anything to his employees. His family’s survival was his one concern.

  What was Kosuke supposed to do? Was following his parents the only way? He thought their plan was shit, but he had no other choice.

  At the library, he continued to browse their books on the Beatles, but his worries wouldn’t go away. No book contained the answer.

  3

  The day of the escape was fast approaching, and there was nothing Kosuke could do. He had been told to pack his things, but he’d lost the will to act.

  Then, one night as he was heading to the library, he noticed that the road was closed for construction, and it sent him on a detour.

  The signs led him past a neighborhood store. There was a gaggle of kids outside looking up at something on the wall inside and laughing.

  Kosuke approached the store to get a better look. Taped up all over the wall were what looked like letters.

  Q: How come when Gamera spins around he doesn’t get dizzy?

  —Gamera’s Friend

  A: I believe Gamera used to take ballet. Ballerinas don’t get dizzy, no matter how fast they spin.

  —Namiya General Store

  Q: I’m trying to bat on one leg like Sadaharu Oh, but I’m not hitting any home runs.

  —Topple of the Eighth

  A: Practice hitting home runs on both legs before you try standing on just one. Or if two legs isn’t working, grab another leg and try with three. Regardless, don’t start off with an impossible goal.

  —Namiya General Store

  Oh, this place, thought Kosuke. His friends had talked about this store. The guy who ran it gave advice on anything, no matter what the problem was. Only most of the time, people didn’t ask serious questions. They were just playing with the old man. They wanted to see how he responded. He always came up with something good.

  Looks dumb. Kid’s stuff, he thought and walked away.

  But then an idea struck him.

  He rushed back home. His father was still at work, as usual, and his mother was out.

  He went up to his room, sat at his desk, and pulled out some loose-leaf paper. Writing was not his strong suit, but he sweated over it for half an hour and came up with this:

  My parents want to take me and run off into the night.

  They have a ridiculous amount of debt, and we can’t repay it, so my dad’s company is going under.

  We’re supposed to leave town at the end of the month.

  They’re saying I need to switch schools. I want to make them change their minds.

  They told me the collections man will hunt us down no matter how far we run. I’m scared that we will have to run forever.

  What should I do?

  —Paul Lennon

  He read over the letter several times, then folded the paper twice, slipped it in his back pocket, and left the house.

  Retracing his steps, he found his way to the Namiya General Store. From a distance, across the street, it looked as though everyone was gone. The old man who ran the store was sitting out back, reading the paper. This was his chance.

  Kosuke took a deep breath and walked up to the store. Earlier, he had figured out the system with the box. It was set up where the old man couldn’t see it from his spot out back. On purpose, Kosuke thought.

  He stepped inside. The old man was still reading his newspaper.

  Kosuke pulled out the letter and walked over to the wall, pretending to have a closer look at the posted letters. The box was right in front of him. His heart was pounding in his chest. He was hesitant. Was this really okay?

  He heard voices. Kids playing. Lots of them. Crap. If they come in, there goes my chance.

  Here goes nothing. He dropped the letter in the box. It thwacked against the bottom, louder than he would have liked. Kosuke cringed.

  The kids burst in, clamoring. “Hey, Mr. Namiya! Did you get me the Kitaro pencil case?” The kid who was shouting looked like a fifth grader.

  “Sure did. I checked with a few of my suppliers and had them send me one. Is this the one?”

  The kid wailed. “Wow! That’s exactly the one they had in the magazine. Hold on, I’m gonna run home and get money. Be right back!”

  “Sure, be safe.”

  Listening to this exchange behind him, Kosuke left the shop. It sounded as if this kid had put in a special order for a pencil case featuring a character from GeGeGe no Kitaro, a popular manga series.

  Before walking off, Kosuke couldn’t help but look back at the store again. The old man was looking right at him. The eye contact made Kosuke nervous; he averted his gaze and sped off down the road.

  Almost instantly, he regretted what he’d done. He shouldn’t have left the letter. The old man saw his face. The letter definitely made some noise when he dropped it in. When the old man opened the box to find the letter, he’d know right off the bat that it was Kosuke who had left it.

  This worried him, but another part of him was fine with it. Point being, even if he had been seen, exposure was the goal. He wanted the old man to post the letter from “Paul Lennon” on his wall. He had no idea what kind of advice he would get, but he almost didn’t care. What mattered was that other people saw the letter.

  Rumors would begin to spread that a fly-by-night was planning to skip town. What would happen if the rumor spread as far as the people who lent his father money? They might guess that the writer’s father was Sadayuki Waku. And he was certain they would act.

  His hope was that his parents would hear the rumor first and give up on their plan.

  That was Kosuke’s gamble. An audacious bet. The best he could do as a middle schooler.

  The next afternoon, Kosuke stepped out and went straight for the Namiya General Store. Luckily for him, the old man was nowhere in sight. Maybe he had gone to the bathroom. Kosuke scanned the letters pasted to the wall. There was only one piece of paper that hadn’t been there yesterday. Except it wasn’t a response, but an announcement.

  Mr. Paul Lennon,

  I received your letter asking for advice. You’ll find a response in the milk crate around back, down the alley.

  To all others:

  The letter in the crate is meant only for Paul Lennon. Please leave it be. Opening or stealing someone else’s mail is a crime. Thank you for your understanding.

  —Namiya General Store

  Kosuke was perplexed. The plan had backfired on him. His letter had not been posted. He’d swung for the fences, but instead of a home run, the game was canceled.

  But what about this letter from the old man? He had to admit he was a bit curious. What kind of advice had he given?

  Kosuke stepped outside, made sure the coast was clear, and slipped around into the narrow alley that led along the building. Around the corner, he found a door and, beside it, on the wall, a wooden milk bin.

  Cautiously, he lifted up the lid. Inside were no bottles of milk,
just a single envelope. He took it out and read the front: Paul Lennon.

  Gripping the envelope a little too hard, he went back up the alley and poked his head out to check the street. Someone was coming up the hill; he ducked back in and waited till they passed. Once he was sure no one was there, he stepped into the street and ran.

  Where to? The library. Except this time, he didn’t go inside, but sat down on a bench in the park out front. He looked over the envelope again. The seal was glued shut, an extra precaution against any prying eyes. He tore the seal, making sure not to rip the letter.

  Inside were several folded sheets of stationery, along with the letter Kosuke originally sent. He opened up the message. The lines were packed with neat script, written in black fountain pen.

  Dear Paul Lennon,

  Thank you for your letter. Frankly, it caught me off guard. This all started as a kind of game, with the neighborhood kids poking fun at my name. I told them I’d do my best to answer their life problems, and they started asking questions, most of them ridiculous. But your letter was serious, about a real-life, time-sensitive dilemma. I was sure you must have gotten the wrong idea. You must have heard my store was giving out advice and didn’t know that it was just for fun. If that was the case, I felt like I had a duty to return your letter, at the very least, to tell you that you should ask someone else for better advice. That’s why you’ll find your letter tucked inside this envelope.

  But then I figured simply sending back your letter without attempting to find a solution would be irresponsible on my part. Even if it was just an honest mistake, I felt I should give you the best advice I could muster, since you went out of your way to ask me for help.

  So I started thinking about what you, Paul Lennon, might do in your predicament. These brains aren’t what they used to be, but I’ve thought it through from every angle.

  The best thing would be to get your parents to change their minds. I know several people who have had to run. I’ve never heard what happened to a single one of them, but my guess is they aren’t living happy lives. Even if they found a way to settle down, they’ll always be running away, just like you said. Running from creditors at first, and then whoever else is after them.