Read Kafka on the Shore for Free Online Page B

call. We can go out for a bite or whatever. Don't be a stranger, okay? 'Even chance meetings'...how does the rest of that go?"
    "'Are the result of karma.'"

    "Right, right," she says. "But what does it mean?"
    "That things in life are fated by our previous lives. That even in the smallest events there's no such thing as coincidence."
    She sits there on her yellow suitcase, notebook in hand, giving it some thought.
    "Hmm... that's a kind of philosophy, isn't it. Not such a bad way of thinking about life.
    Sort of a reincarnation, New Age kind of thing. But, Kafka, remember this, okay? I don't go around giving my cell phone number to just anybody. You know what I mean?"
    I appreciate it, I tell her. I fold up the piece of paper and stick it in the pocket of my windbreaker. Thinking better of it, I transfer it to my wallet.
    "So how long'll you be in Takamatsu?" Sakura asks.
    "I don't know yet," I say. "It depends on how things go."
    She gazes intently at me, her head tilted slightly to one side. Okay, whatever, she might be thinking. She climbs into a cab, gives a little wave, and takes off.
    Once again I'm all alone. Sakura, I think—not my sister's name. But names are changed easily enough. Especially when you're trying to try to run away from somebody.
    I have a reservation at a business hotel in Takamatsu. The YMCA in Tokyo had told me about the place, and through them I got a discount on the room. But that's only for the first three days, then it goes back to the normal room rate.
    If I really wanted to save money, I could just sack out on a bench in front of the station, or since it's still warm out, I could sleep in my sleeping bag in a park somewhere.
    But then the cops will come and card me—the one thing I have to avoid at all costs.
    That's why I went for the hotel reservation, at least for three days. After that I'll figure something out.
    At the station I pop into the first little diner that catches my eye, and eat my fill of udon. Born and raised in Tokyo, I haven't had much udon in my life. But now I'm in Udon Central—Shikoku—and confronted with noodles like nothing I've ever seen.
    They're chewy and fresh, and the soup smells great, really fragrant. And talk about cheap. It all tastes so good I order seconds, and for the first time in who knows how long, I'm happily stuffed. Afterward I plop myself down on a bench in the plaza next to the station and gaze up at the sunny sky. I'm free, I remind myself. Like the clouds floating across the sky, I'm all by myself, totally free.
    I decide to kill time till evening at a library. Ever since I was little I've loved to spend time in the reading rooms of libraries, so I've come to Takamatsu armed with info on all the libraries in and around the city. Think about it—a little kid who doesn't want to go home doesn't have many places he can go. Coffee shops and movie theaters are off-limits. That leaves only libraries, and they're perfect—no entrance fee, nobody getting all hot and bothered if a kid comes in. You just sit down and read whatever you want. I always rode my bike to the local public library after school. Even on holidays that's where you'd find me. I'd devour anything and everything—novels, biographies, histories, whatever was lying around. Once I'd gone through all the children's books, I went on to the general stacks and books for adults. I might not always get much out of them, but I forged on to the very last page. When I got tired of reading I'd go into one of those listening booths with headphones and enjoy some music. I had no idea about music so I just went down the row of CDs they had there, giving them all a listen. That's how I got to know about Duke Ellington, the Beatles, and Led Zeppelin.
    The library was like a second home. Or maybe more like a real home, more than the place I lived in. By going every day I got to know all the lady librarians who worked there. They knew my name and always said hi. I was painfully shy, though, and could