After the quake blind willow, sleeping woman dance dance dance

No, 
not forgiveness
, Ushikawa decided, rethinking it. Those eyes 
pitied
him. She knew 
how ugly Ushikawa’s actions were, and she felt compassion for him. 
Looking at her eyes, he had felt a sharp stab of pain between his ribs, as if a thick 
knitting needle had been thrust in. He felt like a twisted, ugly person. 
So what?
he 
thought. 
I really am twisted and ugly
. The natural, transparent pity that colored her 
eyes sank deep into his heart. He would have much preferred to be openly accused, 
reviled, denounced, and convicted. Much better even to be beaten senseless with a 
baseball bat. 
That
he could stand. But not 
this
. 

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738
Compared with her, Tengo was much easier to deal with. In the photo he was 
standing at the entrance, also looking in his direction. Like Fuka-Eri, he carefully 
examined his surroundings. But there was nothing in his eyes. Pure, ignorant eyes like 
those couldn’t locate the camera hidden behind the curtains, or Ushikawa. 
Ushikawa turned to the photos of the 
mystery woman
. There were three photos. 
Baseball cap, dark-framed glasses, gray muffler up to her nose. It was impossible to 
make out her features. The lighting was poor in all the photos, and the baseball cap 
cast a shadow over her face. Still, this woman perfectly fit his mental image of 
Aomame. He picked up the photos and, like checking out a poker hand, went through 
them in order, over and over. The more he looked at them, the more convinced he was 
that this had to be Aomame. 
He called the waitress over and asked her about the day’s dessert. Peach pie, she 
replied. Ushikawa ordered a piece and a refill of coffee. 
If this isn’t Aomame
, he thought as he waited for the pie, 
then I might never see her 
as long as I live
. 
The peach pie was much tastier than expected. Juicy peaches inside a crisp, flaky 
crust. Canned peaches, no doubt, but not too bad for a dessert at a chain restaurant. 
Ushikawa ate every last bite, drained the coffee, and left the restaurant feeling 
content. He picked up three days’ worth of food at a supermarket, then went back to 
the apartment and his stakeout in front of the camera. 
As he continued his surveillance of the entrance, he leaned back against the wall, 
in a sunny spot, and dozed off a few times. This didn’t bother him. He felt sure he 
hadn’t missed anything important while he slept. Tengo was away from Tokyo at his 
father’s funeral, and Fuka-Eri wasn’t coming back. She knew he was continuing his 
surveillance. The chances were slim that the 
mystery woman
would visit while it was 
light out. She would be cautious, and wait until dark to make a move. 
But even after sunset the 
mystery woman
didn’t appear. The same old lineup came 
and went—shopping bags in hand, out for an evening stroll, those coming back from 
work looking more beaten and worn out than when they had set off in the morning. 
Ushikawa watched them come and go but didn’t snap any photos. There wasn’t any 
need. Ushikawa was focused on only three people. Everyone else was just a nameless 
pedestrian. But to pass time Ushikawa called out to them, using the nicknames he had 
come up with. 
“Hey, Chairman Mao.” (The man’s hair looked like Mao Tse-tung’s.) “You must 
have worked hard today.” 
“Warm today, isn’t it, Long Ears—perfect for a walk.” 
“Evening, Chinless. Shopping again? What’s for dinner?” 
Ushikawa kept up his surveillance until eleven. He gave a big yawn and called it a 
day. After he brushed his teeth, he stuck out his tongue and looked at it in the mirror. 
It had been a while since he had examined his tongue. Something like moss was 
growing on it, a light green, like real moss. He examined this moss carefully under the 
light. It was disturbing. The moss adhered to his entire tongue and didn’t look like it 

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739
would come off easily.