She reminded Ushikawa of a girl who had been in his class in school. The girl had been pretty, got good grades, was kind and responsible. She was well brought up and good at piano. She was one of the teacher’s favorites. During class Ushikawa spent a lot of time gazing at her, mainly at her back. But he never once talked with her.

“I understand that you’re looking into one of the graduates of our school?” the vice principal asked.

“I’m sorry, I should have given you this before,” Ushikawa said, and passed her his business card. It was the same card he had given Tengo, the one with his title on it: Full-time Director, New Japan Foundation for the Advancement of Scholarship and the Arts. What he told the woman was the same fabricated story he had told Tengo. Tengo Kawana, who had graduated from this school, had become a writer and was on a short list to receive a grant from the foundation. Ushikawa was just running an ordinary background check on him.

“That’s wonderful news,” the vice principal said, beaming. “It’s a great honor for our school, and we will do everything we can to help you.”

“I was hoping to meet and speak directly with the teacher who taught Mr. Kawana,” Ushikawa said.

“I’ll check into that. It’s more than twenty years ago, so she may be retired already.”

“I appreciate that,” Ushikawa said. “If it’s all right, there’s one other thing I would like you to look into, if you would.”

“And what would that be?”

“There was a girl in the same year, I believe, as Mr. Kawana, a Miss Masami Aomame. Would you be able to check into whether she was in the same class as Mr. Kawana?”

The vice principal looked a bit dubious. “Is this Miss Aomame in some way connected with the question of funding for Mr. Kawana?”

“No, it’s not that. In one of the works by Mr. Kawana, there is a character who seems to be modeled on someone like Miss Aomame, and I have a few questions of my own on this topic that I need to clear up. It’s nothing very involved. Basically a formality.”

“I see,” the vice principal said, the corners of her lips rising ever so slightly. “I am sure you understand, however, that in some cases we may not be able to give you information that might touch on a person’s privacy. Grades, for instance, or reports on a pupil’s home environment.”

“Of course, I’m fully aware of that. All we are after is information on whether or not she was actually in the same class as Mr. Kawana. And if she was, I would appreciate it very much if you could give me the name and contact information for the teacher in charge of their class at the time.”

“I understand. That shouldn’t be a problem. Miss Aomame, was it?”

“Correct. It’s written with the characters for green and peas. An uncommon name.”

Ushikawa wrote the name “Masami Aomame” in pen on a page on his pocket notebook and passed the page to the vice principal. She looked at it for a few seconds, then placed it in the pocket of a folder on her desk.

“Could you please wait here for a few minutes? I’ll go check our staff records. I’ll have the person in charge photocopy whatever can be made public.”

“I’m sorry to bother you with this when you are obviously so busy,” Ushikawa said.

The vice principal’s flared skirt swished prettily as she exited the room. She had beautiful posture, and she moved elegantly. Her hairstyle was attractive too. She was clearly aging gracefully. Ushikawa shifted in his seat and killed time by reading a paperback book he had brought along.

The vice principal came back fifteen minutes later, a brown business envelope clutched to her breast.

“It turns out that Mr. Kawana was quite the student. He was always at the top of his class as well as a very successful athlete. He was especially good at arithmetic and mathematics, and even in elementary school he was able to solve high-school-level problems. He won a math contest and was written up in the newspaper as a child prodigy.”

“That’s amazing,” Ushikawa said.

“It’s odd that while he was touted as a math prodigy, today he has distinguished himself in literature.”

“Abundant talent is like a rich vein of water underground that finds all sorts of places to gush forth. Presently he is teaching math while writing novels.”

“I see,” the vice principal said, raising her eyebrows at a lovely angle. “Unlike Tengo, there wasn’t much on Masami Aomame. She transferred to another school in fifth grade. She was taken in by relatives in Adachi Ward in Tokyo and transferred to a school there. She and Tengo Kawana were classmates in third and fourth grades.”

Just as I suspected, Ushikawa thought. There was some connection between the two of them.

“A Miss Ota was in charge of their class then. Toshie Ota. Now she’s teaching at a municipal elementary school in Narashino.”

“If I contact that school, perhaps I will be able to get in touch with her?”

“We have already made the call,” the vice principal said, smiling faintly. “When we explained the situation, she said she would be very pleased to meet with you.”

“I really appreciate that,” Ushikawa said. She wasn’t just a pretty face, he thought, but an efficient administrator, too.

On the back of her business card, the vice principal wrote down the teacher’s name and the phone number of the school, the Tsudanuma elementary school, and handed it to Ushikawa. Ushikawa carefully stashed the card in his billfold.

“I heard that Miss Aomame was raised with some sort of religious background,” Ushikawa said. “We are a bit concerned about this.”

The vice principal frowned, tiny lines forming at the corners of her eyes. The kind of subtle, charming, intelligent lines acquired only by middle-aged women who have taken great care to train themselves.

“I’m sorry, but that is not a subject we can discuss here,” she said.

“It touches on areas of personal privacy, doesn’t it,” Ushikawa asked.

“That’s correct. Especially issues dealing with religion.”

“But if I meet with this Miss Ota, I might be able to ask her about this.”

The vice principal inclined her slender jaw slightly to the left and smiled meaningfully. “If Miss Ota wishes to speak as a private individual, that is no concern of ours.”

Ushikawa stood up and politely thanked her. She handed him the brown business envelope. “The materials we could copy are inside. Documents pertaining to Mr. Kawana. There’s a little bit, too, concerning Miss Aomame. I hope it’s helpful to you.”

“I’m sure it will be. Thank you very much for all you have done. You’ve been very kind.”

“When the results of that grant are decided, you’ll be sure to let us know, won’t you? This will be a great honor for our school.”

“I’m positive there will be a good outcome,” Ushikawa said. “I have met him a number of times and he is a talented young man with a promising future.” Ushikawa stopped at a diner in front of Ichikawa Station, ate a simple lunch, and looked through the material in the envelope. There was a basic record of attendance at the school for both Tengo and Aomame, as well as records of awards given to Tengo for his achievements in academics and sports. He did indeed seem to be an extraordinary student. He probably never once thought of school as a nightmare. There was also a copy of a newspaper article about the math contest he had won. It was an old article and the photo wasn’t very clear, but it was obviously Tengo as a boy.

After lunch Ushikawa phoned the Tsudanuma elementary school. He spoke with Miss Ota, the teacher, and made an appointment to meet her at four at her school. After four I’m free to talk, she had said.

I know it’s my job, Ushikawa sighed, but two elementary schools in one day is a bit much. Just thinking about it made him depressed. But so far it had been worth the effort. He now had proof that Tengo and Aomame were classmates for two years—a huge step forward.