After the quake blind willow, sleeping woman dance dance dance

His “own clumsy guesswork”? 
How much of what this man is saying can I believe?
“Oh, well, I’ll have to be calling it a day,” Ushikawa said. “It’s such an important 
matter, I’ll give you a little more time. Just a little. The clock is counting off the time. 
Tick-tock, tick-tock, without a break. Please consider our offer carefully once more. 
I’ll probably be getting in touch with you again soon. Good night, then. I’m glad we 
had a chance to talk. I, uh, hope you will be able to sleep well, Mr. Kawana.” 
Ushikawa hung up. Tengo stared at the dead receiver in his hand for a while, the 
way a farmer stares at a withered vegetable he has picked up from his drought-
wracked field. These days, a lot of people were hanging up on Tengo. 
As he had imagined, restful sleep paid Tengo no visits that night. Until the pale 
light of dawn began coloring the curtains and the tough city crows woke to begin their 
day’s work, Tengo sat on the floor, leaning against the wall and thinking about his 
girlfriend and about the long, strong arms reaching toward him from some unknown 
place. Such thoughts, however, carried him nowhere. They merely circled aimlessly 
around the same spot. 
Tengo looked around and heaved a sigh and realized that he was absolutely alone. 
Ushikawa had been right. He had nothing and no one to lean on. 

---

343
CHAPTER 7 
Aomame 
WHERE YOU ARE ABOUT TO SET FOOT 
With its high ceiling and muted lighting, the capacious lobby of the Hotel Okura’s 
main building seemed like a huge, stylish cave. Against the cave walls, like the 
sighing of a disemboweled animal, bounced the muted conversations of people seated 
on the lobby’s sofas. The floor’s thick, soft carpeting could have been primeval moss 
on a far northern island. It absorbed the sound of footsteps into its endless span of 
accumulated time. The men and women crossing and recrossing the lobby looked like 
ghosts tied in place by some ancient curse, doomed to the endless repetition of their 
assigned roles. Men were armored in tight-fitting business suits. Slim young women 
were swathed in chic black dresses, here to attend a ceremony in one of the hotel’s 
many reception rooms. They wore small but expensive accessories, like vampire 
finches in search of blood, longing for a hint of light they could reflect. A large 
foreign couple loomed like an old king and queen past their prime, resting their tired 
bodies on thrones in the corner. 
In this place so full of legend and suggestion, Aomame was truly out of place, with 
her pale blue cotton pants, simple white blouse, white sneakers, and blue Nike gym 
bag. She probably looked like a babysitter sent by her agency to work for a hotel 
guest, she thought, as she killed time sitting in a big easy chair. 
Oh well, I’m not here 
for socializing
. Sitting there, she sensed that someone was watching her, but, try as 
she might to scan the area, she could not find anyone who seemed to be focused on 
her. 
Never mind
, she told herself. 
Let them look all they want
. 
When the hands of her watch hit 6:50, Aomame stood up and went to the ladies’ 
room, carrying her gym bag. She washed her hands with soap and water and checked 
once more to make sure there were no problems with her appearance. Then, facing the 
large, clear mirror, she took several deep breaths. This was a spacious restroom, and 
she was the only one in it. It might be even bigger than her whole apartment. “This is 
going to be my last job,” she said in a low voice to the mirror. 
Once I carry this off, I 
disappear. Poof! Like a ghost. I’m here