‘When did you find out that it was the same Shoji Itakura?’
‘Oh, I always knew. I could tell right away it was him. The name was his, and I’d grown up seeing his drawings. And they were things I knew. Not just the house, but the streets of Tokyo, the things people were carrying, stuff like that. It’s hard to explain, but only someone who had lived in Tokyo before the war could have drawn those sorts of things. And he did it well, too.’ He removed his glasses and wiped the rim. I don’t think he was crying. He looked amused, showing his dimple.
‘Didn’t you ever get in touch with him?’
‘With who? Mr. Itakura? No, never. It never even occurred to me. What would have been the point?’ This time he laughed quietly.
When he put it like that, I couldn’t think of any good reason.
Mrs. Hirai cam
