After the quake blind willow, sleeping woman dance dance dance

something
, he felt, had managed to 
work its way in through a tiny opening and was trying to fill a blank space inside him. 
The void was not one that Fuka-Eri had made. It had always been there inside Tengo. 
She had merely managed to shine a special light on it. 
“You’re not interested in writing fiction, and you didn’t enter the new writers’ 
competition,” Tengo said as if confirming what she had told him. 
With her eyes locked on his, Fuka-Eri nodded in agreement. Then she gave a little 
shrug, as if shielding herself from a cold autumn blast. 
“You don’t want to be a writer.” Tengo was shocked to hear himself asking a 
question without a question mark. The style was obviously contagious. 
“No, I don’t,” Fuka-Eri said. 
At that point their meal arrived—a large bowl of salad and a roll for Fuka-Eri, and 
seafood linguine for Tengo. Fuka-Eri used her fork to turn over several lettuce leaves, 
inspecting them as if they were imprinted with newspaper headlines. 
“Well, 
somebody
sent your 
Air Chrysalis
to the publisher for the new writers’ 
competition. I found it when I was screening manuscripts.” 
“
Air Chrysalis
,” Fuka-Eri said, narrowing her eyes. 
“That’s the title of the novella you wrote,” Tengo said. 
Fuka-Eri kept her eyes narrowed, saying nothing. 
“That’s not the title you gave it?” Tengo asked with an uneasy twinge. 
Fuka-Eri gave her head a tiny shake. 
He began to feel confused again, but he decided not to pursue the question of the 
title. The important thing was to make some progress with the discussion at hand. 
“Never mind, then. Anyway, it’s not a bad title. It has real atmosphere, and it’ll 
attract attention, make people wonder what it could possibly be about. Whoever 
thought of it, I have no problem with it as a title. I’m not sure about the distinction 
between ‘chrysalis’ and ‘cocoon,’ but that’s no big deal. What I’m trying to tell you is 
that the work really 
got
to me, which is why I brought it to Mr. Komatsu. He liked it a 
lot, too, but he felt that the writing needed work if it was going to be a serious 
contender for the new writers’ prize. The style doesn’t quite measure up to the 
strength of the story, so what he wants to do is have it rewritten, not by you but by 
me. I haven’t decided whether I want to do it or not, and I haven’t given him my 
answer. I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do.” 
Tengo broke off at that point to see Fuka-Eri’s reaction. There was no reaction. 
“What I’d like to hear from you now is what you think of the idea of me rewriting 
Air Chrysalis
instead of you. Even if I decided to do it, it couldn’t happen without 
your agreement and cooperation.” 
Using her fingers, Fuka-Eri picked a cherry tomato out of her salad and ate it. 
Tengo stabbed a mussel with his fork and ate that. 
“You can do it,” Fuka-Eri said simply. She picked up another tomato. “Fix it any 
way you like.” 

---

51
“Don’t you think you should take a little more time to think it over? This is a pretty 
big decision.” 
Fuka-Eri shook her head. No need. 
“Now, supposing I rewrote your novella,” Tengo continued, “I would be careful 
not to change the story but just strengthen the style. This would probably involve 
some major changes. But finally, you are the author. It would remain a work by the 
seventeen-year-old girl named Fuka-Eri. That would not change. If it won the prize, 
you would get it. Just you. If it were published as a book, you would be the only 
author listed on the title page. We would be a team—the three of us, you, me, and Mr. 
Komatsu, the editor. But the only name on the book would be yours. He and I would 
stay in the background and not say a word, kind of like prop men in a play. Do you 
understand what I am telling you?” 
Fuka-Eri brought a piece of celery to her mouth with her fork. “I understand,” she 
said with a nod. 
“