Map of the Sounds of Tokyo

Do we have to do this?

Do we really have to do this?

Eat hot sushi off a woman's navel?

If we want to seal the deal, yes, we have to do it.

Anyway, it's better if we do it.

You know that they love this place.

They love everything that's vulgar and free of charge.

At any rate, with all the alcohol they've got on board,

they wouldn't care if they were in the zoo eating hot dogs.

We have to fit in with the idea

that they have of us, Nagara-san.

In half an hour, they'll be so drunk

that they won't notice if you leave.

We'll stay with them.

There must be another way of doing business.

There is.

But it isn't so profitable.

Cheers.

Cheers!

Oh, thank you.

Hello?

Hello?

The sea urchin's really good. Try some.

What do you say we take her home with us?

West Coast office, huh, huh?

I'm sure your wife would love that.

Oh, yeah, she would.

Oh, thank you.

Why? Why am I doing this here?

Why nobody told me that?

Why?

What a rubbish job...

We had all jerks today.

So tired of this job.

There is not a day I don't remember Ryu's breathing...

Nor a single day I don't miss her silence.

When I met her,

her name was Ryu.

Later on, I found out she had had other names:

Keiko, Momoyo, Yuri.

But I'm almost sure

Ryu was her real name.

We met one Sunday afternoon

at the Ramen Museum.

I told her I liked the noise she made

when she slurped her soup,

that it reminded me of the noise

that my mother made.

Would you let me record the noise you make?

It's what I do.

That's how I make my living.

You really mean you make a living doing this?

Yes.

I record sounds for a sound studio,

for the radio, the telly, videos,

sometimes...

for a film.

And you also record the sound people make sucking their snot?

Of course she didn't believe me,

but that day, we began being friends.

But then I didn't know

that I was going to be Ryu's only friend.

From then on,

we saw each other often at small places

near the market where she worked.

One day, I asked her why she worked there.

She replied that that was the only thing

that prevented her from thinking too much.

That was the closest thing to a secret

I got out of her.

Most of the time,

we just kept each other company while we ate.

At times, if she was in a good mood,

she'd let me record our long conversations

on nothing in particular.

Are you doing anything on Sunday?

On Sunday?

Yes, on Sunday.

Why are you always making plans?

Well, why do you never make any plans?

What do you know about the plans I make?

You never tell me about any of them.

Why should I have to tell you about them?

She never told me if she was an only child

or had brothers and sisters

or even if her parents were still alive,

if she had gotten good grades at school,

if she had read War and Peace,

if she believed in God or something of the sort,

if when she saw an old lady on the street,

she suddenly asked herself

what she would be like at that age,

if she had suffered,

if she had ever fallen in love.

After a while,

I just stopped asking.

Nagara-san...

Midori was...

My life too.

Today's a kiss day!

A kiss is the best medicine!

3, 2, 1,

kiss!

Dismiss!

She did say a few things, though:

That she had insomnia,

that she was crazy about strawberry mochis,

that she was brave but feared people,

that she always thought she would die young.

One thing we used to do often together

was to visit cemeteries on Sundays.

I would follow her

while she found certain tombs

and would clean the tombstones conscientiously.

She never told me who those tombstones belonged to.

And I didn't ask.

The silence that reigns in a cemetery in summer

is unlike any other silence in the world.

We never broke that silence.

Nagara-san,

do you want me to go to the bathroom and...

No.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU LOvE ME AS I LOvED YOU?"

Are you all right?

I cannot imagine a world in which my daughter is dead...

And this man

remains alive.

It's unbearable for me.

While she is no longer.

The idea of him still breathing,

laughing...

Eating.

I know that I cannot.

Leave it in my hands.

I'll take care of everything.

She liked music,

but she never told me about any group or any singer

or how many versions

of Someone to Watch Over Me

she had in her iPod.

I know that she went in to work at 7:00 in the evening

and finished at 5:30 in the morning.

But I knew nothing

of what she thought about during these hours.

She never told me if at any given time

of those long nights,

at about 4:00 in the morning, at that strange cold hour,

her heart tightened

and she asked herself if there was any point to it all.

Listening to her footsteps and breathing

in the solitude of my room,

I asked myself as well.

Hello?

Murakami-san gave me this telephone number.

Yes.

I have a photograph and his address.

Yes.

All right, the first half in advance.

At 7:00? Where?

Okay, I'll be there.

With the first half? I'll bring it.

Good morning, David.

Hi, morning.

Thank you.

It's good.

Hey, come on. What's wrong?

It's good. I don't need your help.

I can open my own door.

I tell you a million times.

It's okay.

There are three cases missing.

You want me to ring them?

No, I'll do it. I'll do it.

Okay.

Okay, ring them. Ring them.

It'll be better.

Yoshi?

What?

Thank you.

No problem.

Come on, you're gonna catch something.

Let's go inside.

Yes.

Shall we go somewhere else?

Somewhere else? What for?

Excuse me.

This is the first time. I've never...

I've got tickets.

Welcome.

Thank you very much.

It's all there...

The money and the information.

Right.

Don't you want to know why...

Well, the circumstances.

Circumstances?

Yes...

why we want this man.

The circumstances don't bother me.

No?