After the quake blind willow, sleeping woman dance dance dance

He was almost within reach
. 
Maybe if I hold out my hand the next time, I really will be able to reach him
. In the 
darkness she closed her eyes and immersed herself in that possibility. She gave 
herself up to her longing. 
But if I never do see him again
, she thought, her heart trembling, 
then what?
Things had been a whole lot simpler when there was no actual point of contact 
between them. Meeting the adult Tengo had been a mere dream, an abstract 
hypothesis. But now that she had seen the 
real
him before her very eyes, his presence 
was more concrete, more powerful, than it had ever been before. She 
had
to see him, 
to have him hold her, caress every part of her. Just the very thought that this might not 
come to pass made her feel as if her heart and body were being ripped in two. 
Maybe back there in front of the Esso tiger on the billboard, I should have shot 
that 9mm bullet into my skull. Then I wouldn’t have to live like this, feeling such 
sadness and pain
. But she just couldn’t pull the trigger. She had heard a voice. From 
far off, someone calling her name. 
I might be able to see Tengo again
, she had 
thought—and once this thought had struck her, she had to go on living. Even if what 
Leader had said was true, that doing so would make things dangerous for Tengo, she 
had no other choice. She had felt an unbearably strong surge of the life force, beyond 
the bounds of logic. The upshot was that she was burning with a fierce desire for him. 
It was a thirst that wouldn’t quit, and a premonition of despair. 
A realization struck her. 
This is what it means to live on. When granted hope, a 
person uses it as fuel, as a guidepost to life. It is impossible to live without hope
. 
Aomame’s heart clenched at the thought, as if every bone in her body were suddenly 
creaking and screaming out. 

---

561
She sat at the dining table and picked up the automatic pistol. She pulled back the 
slide, sending a bullet into the chamber, thumbed back the hammer, and stuck the 
muzzle in her mouth. Just a touch more pressure with her trigger finger and all this 
sadness would disappear. 
Just a touch more. One more centimeter. No, if I pull my 
finger just five millimeters toward me, I will shift over to a silent world where there 
are no more worries. The pain will only last an instant. And then there will be a 
merciful nothingness
. She closed her eyes. The Esso tiger from the billboard, gas hose 
in hand, grinned at her. 
Put a Tiger in Your Tank
. 
She pulled the hard muzzle out of her mouth and slowly shook her head. 
I can’t die. In front of the balcony is the playground. The slide is there, and as long 
as I have the hope that Tengo will show up again, I won’t be able to pull this trigger
. 
This possibility drew her back from the brink. One door closed inside her heart and 
another door opened, quietly, without a sound. Aomame pulled the slide again, 
ejecting the bullet, set the safety, and placed the pistol back on the table. When she 
closed her eyes she sensed something in the darkness, a faint light, fading away by the 
moment. What it could be, she had no idea. 
She sat down on the sofa and focused on the pages of 
Swann’s Way
. She imagined 
the scenes depicted in the story, trying hard not to let other thoughts intrude. Outside a 
cold rain had started to fall. The weather report on the radio said a gentle rain would 
continue until the next morning. A weather front was stalled out in the Pacific—like a 
lonely person, lost in thought, oblivious of time.