Yes, I know, said the old man, pursing his lips as though rummaging through the drawers in his mind. It sold last August. They finally got all the mortgage and title and legal problems straightened out and put it on the market. A speculator bought it, to tear down the house and sell the land. Leave a house vacant that long, I don't care how good it is, its not going to sell. Of course, the people who bought it are not local. Nobody local would touch the place. Have you heard some of the stories?
Yes, I have, from my uncle.
Then you know what I'm talking about. I suppose we could have bought it and sold it to somebody who didn't know any better, but we don't do business that way. It just leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
I nodded in agreement. So who did buy it, then?
The old man knit his brow and shook his head, then told me the name of a well-known real estate corporation. They probably didn't do any research, just snapped it up when they saw the location and the price, figured they'd turn a quick profit. But its not going to be so easy.
They haven't been able to sell it? They came close a few times, the old man said, folding his arms. Its not cheap, buying a piece of land. Its a lifetime investment. People are careful. When they start looking into things, any stories come out, and in this case, not one of them is good. You hear stories like that, and the ordinary person is not going to buy. Most of the people who live around here know the stories about that place.
What are they asking?
Asking? The price of the land where the Miyawaki house was. Old Mr. Ichikawa looked at me as if to say I had aroused his curiosity. Well, lets see. The lot is a little over thirty-five hundred square feet. Not quite a hundred tsubo. The market price would be one and a half million yen per tsubo. I mean, thats a first-rate lot-wonderful setting, southern exposure. A million and a half, no problem, even with the market as slow as it is. You might have to wait a little while, but you'd get your price at that location. Ordinarily. But theres nothing ordinary about the Miyawaki place. That's not going to move, no matter how long you wait. So the price has to go down. Its already down to a million ten per tsubo, so with a little more bargaining you could probably get the whole place for an even hundred million.
Do you think the price will continue to fall? The old man gave a sharp nod. Of course its going to fall. To nine hundred thousand per tsubo easy. That's what they bought it for. They're really getting worried now. They'd be thrilled if they could break even. I don't know if they'd go any lower. They might take a loss if they're hurting for cash. Otherwise, they could afford to wait. I just don't know whats going on inside the company. What I do know is that they're sorry they bought the place. Getting mixed up with that piece of land is not going to do anybody any good. He tapped his ashes into the ashtray.
The yard has a well, doesn't it? I asked. Do you know anything about the well?
Hmm, it does have a well, doesn't it, said Mr. Ichikawa. A deep well. But I think they filled it in. It was dry, after all. Useless.
Do you have any idea when it dried up?
The old man glared at the ceiling for a while, with his arms folded. That was a long time ago. I cant remember, really, but I'm sure I heard it had water sometime before the war. It must have dried up after the war. I don't know when, exactly. But I know it was dry when the actress moved in. There was a lot of talk then about whether or not to fill in the well. But nobody ever did anything about it. I guess it was too much bother.
The well in the Kasahara place across the alley still has plenty of water- good water, I'm told.
Maybe so, maybe so. The wells in that area always produced good-tasting water. Its got something to do with the soil. You know, water veins are delicate things. Its not unusual to get water in one place and nothing at all right close by. Is there something about that well that interests you?
To tell you the truth, Id like to buy that piece of land.
The old man raised his eyes and focused them on mine. Then he lifted his teacup and took a silent sip. You want to buy that piece of land?
My only reply was a nod.
The old man took another cigarette from his pack and tapped it against the tabletop. But then, instead of lighting it, he held it between his fingers. His tongue flicked across his lips.
Let me say one more time that thats a place with a lot of problems. No one-and I mean no one- has ever done well there. You do realize that? I don't care how cheap it gets, that place can never be a good buy. But you want it just the same?
Yes, I still want it, knowing what I know. But let me point out one thing: I don't have enough money on hand to buy the place, no matter how far the price falls below market value.
But I intend to raise the money, even if it takes me a while. So I would like to be kept informed of any new developments. Can I count on you to let me know if the price changes or if a buyer shows up?
For a time, the old man just stared at his unlit cigarette, lost in thought. Then, clearing his throat with a little cough, he said, Don't worry, you've got time; that place is not going to sell for a while, I guarantee you. Its not going to move until they're practically giving it away, and that wont happen for a while. So take all the time you need to raise the money. If you really want it.
I told him my phone number. The old man wrote it down in a little sweat-stained black notebook. After returning the notebook to his jacket pocket, he looked me in the eye for a while and then looked at the mark on my cheek.
February came to an end, and March was half gone when the freezing cold began to relent somewhat. Warm winds blew up from the south. Buds appeared on the trees, and new birds showed up in the garden. On warm days I began to spend time sitting on the veranda, looking at the garden. One evening I got a call from Mr. Ichikawa. The Miyawaki land was still unsold, he said, and the price had dropped somewhat.
I told you it wouldn't move for a while, he added, with a touch of pride. Don't worry, from now on its just going to creep down. Meanwhile, how are you doing? Funds coming together?
I was washing my face at eight o'clock that night when I noticed that my mark was beginning to run a slight fever. When I laid my finger against it, I could feel a touch of warmth that had not been there before. The color, too, seemed more intense than usual, almost purplish. Barely breathing, I stared into the mirror for a long time-long enough for me to begin to see my own face as something other than mine. The mark was trying to tell me something: it wanted something from me. I went on staring at my self beyond the mirror, and that self went on staring back at me from beyond the mirror without a word.
I have to have that well. Whatever happens, I have to have that well.
This was the conclusion I had reached.
2 Waking from Hibernation
One More Name Card
The Namelessness of Money
Just wanting the land was not going to make it mine, of course. The amount of money I could realistically raise was close to zero. I still had a little of what my mother had left me, but that would evaporate soon in the course of living. I had no job, nothing I could offer as collateral. And there was no bank in the world that would lend money to someone like me out of sheer kindness. I would have to use magic to produce the money from thin air. And soon.