After the quake blind willow, sleeping woman dance dance dance

Not much I can do about it
, she told herself. 
I’m not even sure if this world with 
two moons in the sky is the
real 
reality or not. So it shouldn’t be so strange, should it? 
That in a world like this, if I fall asleep and dream, I find it hard to distinguish dream 
from reality? And let’s not forget that I’ve killed a few men with my own hands. I’m 
being chased by fanatics who aren’t about to give up, and I’m hiding out. How could 
I
not 
be tense, and afraid? I can still feel the sensation, in my hands, of having 
murdered somebody. Maybe I’ll never be able to sleep soundly the rest of my life. 
Maybe that’s the responsibility I have to bear, the price I have to pay
. 
The dreams she had—at least the ones she could recall—fell into three set categories. 
The first was a dream about thunder. She is in a dark room, with thunder roaring 
continuously. But there is no lightning, just like the night she murdered Leader. There 
is something in the room. Aomame is lying in bed, naked, and something is 
wandering about around her, slowly, deliberately. The carpet is thick, and the air lies 
heavy and still. The windowpane rattles slightly in the thunder. She is afraid. She 
doesn’t know what is there in the room. It might be a person. Maybe it’s an animal. 
Maybe it’s neither one. Finally, though, whatever it is leaves the room. Not through 
the door, nor by the window. But still its presence fades away until it has completely 
disappeared. She is alone now in the room. 
She fumbles for the light near her bed. She gets out of bed, still naked, and looks 
around the room. There is a hole in the wall opposite her bed, a hole big enough for 
one person to barely make it through. The hole isn’t in a set spot. It changes shape and 
moves around. It shakes, it moves, it grows bigger, it shrinks—as if it’s alive. 
Something
left through that hole. She stares into the hole. It seems to be connected to 
something else, but it’s too dark inside to see, a darkness so thick that it’s as if you 
could cut it out and hold it in your hand. She is curious, but at the same time afraid. 
Her heart pounds, a cold, distant beat. The dream ends there. 

---

589
The second dream took place on the shoulder of the Metropolitan Expressway. And 
here, too, she is totally nude. Caught in the traffic jam, people leer at her from their 
cars, shamelessly ogling her naked body. Most are men, but there are a few women, 
too. The people are staring at her less-than-ample breasts and her pubic hair and the 
strange way it grows, all of them evaluating her body. Some are frowning, some 
smiling wryly, others yawning. Others are staring intently at her, their faces blank. 
She wants to cover herself up—at least her breasts and groin, if she can. A scrap of 
cloth would do the trick, or a sheet of newspaper. But there is nothing around her she 
can pick up. And for some reason (she has no idea why) she can’t move her arms. 
From time to time the wind blows, stimulating her nipples, rustling her pubic hair. 
On top of this—as if things couldn’t get any worse—it feels like she is about to get 
her period. Her back feels dull and heavy, her abdomen hot. What should she do if, in 
front of all these people, she starts bleeding? 
Just then the driver’s-side door of a silver Mercedes coupe opens and a very 
refined middle-aged woman steps out. She’s wearing bright-colored high heels, 
sunglasses, and silver earrings. She’s slim, about the same height as Aomame. She 
wends her way through the backed-up cars, and when she comes over she takes off 
her coat and puts it on Aomame. It’s an eggshell-colored spring coat that comes down 
to her knees. It’s light as a feather. It’s simple, but obviously expensive. The coat fits 
her perfectly, like it was made for her. The woman buttons it up for her, all the way to 
the top. 
“I don’t know when I can return it to you. I’m afraid I might bleed on it,” Aomame 
says. 
Without a word, the woman shakes her head, then weaves her way back through 
the cars to the Mercedes coupe. From the driver’s side it looks like she lifts her hand 
in a small wave to Aomame, but it may be an illusion. Wrapped in the light, soft 
spring coat, Aomame knows she is protected. Her body is no longer exposed to 
anyone’s view. And right then, as if it could barely wait, a line of blood drips down 
her thigh. Hot, thick, heavy blood. But as she looks at it she realizes it isn’t blood. It’s 
colorless. 
The third dream was hard to put into words. It was a rambling, incoherent dream 
without any setting. All that was there was a feeling of being in motion. Aomame was 
ceaselessly moving through time and space. It didn’t matter when or where this was. 
All that mattered was this movement. Everything was fluid, and a specific meaning 
was born of that fluidity. But as she gave herself up to it, she found her body growing 
transparent. She could see through her hands to the other side. Her bones, organs, and 
womb became visible. At this rate she might very well no longer exist. After she 
could no longer see herself, Aomame wondered what could possibly come then. She 
had no answer. 
At two p.m. the phone rang and Aomame, dozing on the sofa, leapt to her feet. “Is 
everything going okay?” Tamaru asked. 
“Yes, fine,” Aomame replied. 

---

590
“How about the NHK fee collector?” 
“I haven’t seen him at all. Maybe he was just threatening me, saying he would be 
back.” 
“Could be,” Tamaru said. “We set it up so the NHK subscription fee is 
automatically paid from a bank account, and an up-to-date sticker is on the door. Any 
fee collector would be bound to see it. We called NHK and they said the same thing. 
It must be some kind of clerical error.” 
“I just hope I don’t have to deal with him.” 
“Yes, we need to avoid any kind of attention. And I don’t like it when there are 
mistakes.” 
“But the world is full of mistakes.” 
“The world can be that way, but I have my own way of doing things,” Tamaru 
said. “If there is anything that bothers you—anything at all—make sure you get in 
touch.” 
“Is there anything new with Sakigake?” 
“Everything has been quiet. I imagine something is going on below the surface, but 
we can’t tell from the outside.” 
“I heard you had an informant within the organization.” 
“We’ve gotten some reports, but they’re focused on details, not the big picture. It 
does seem as if they are tightening up control of the faith. The faucet has been shut.” 
“But they are definitely still after me.” 
“Since Leader’s death, there has clearly been a large gap left in the organization. 
They haven’t decided yet who is going to succeed him, or what sort of policies 
Sakigake should take. But when it comes to pursuing you, opinion is unwavering and 
unanimous. Those are the facts we have been able to find out.” 
“Not very heartwarming facts, are they.” 
“Well, with facts what’s important is their weight and accuracy. Warmth is 
secondary.” 
“Any way,” Aomame said, “if they capture me and the truth comes to light, that 
will be a problem for you as well.” 
“That is why we want to get you to a place they can’t reach, as soon as we can.” 
“I know. But I need you to wait a little longer.” 
“
She
said that we would wait until the end of the year. So of course that’s what I’ll 
do.” 
“I appreciate it.” 
“I’m not the one you should be thanking.” 
“Be that as it may,” Aomame said. “There is one item I’d like to add to the list the 
next time you bring over supplies. It’s hard to say this to a man, though.” 
“I’m like a rock wall,” Tamaru said. “Plus, when it comes to being gay, I’m in the 
big leagues.” 
“I would like a home pregnancy test.” 
There was silence. Finally Tamaru spoke. “You believe there’s a need for that kind 
of test.” 
It wasn’t a question, so Aomame didn’t reply. 
“Do you think you might be pregnant?” Tamaru asked. 
“No, that isn’t the reason.” 

---

591
Tamaru quickly turned this over in his mind. If you were quiet, you could actually 
hear the wheels turning. 
“You don’t think you’re pregnant. Yet you need a pregnancy test.” 
“That’s right.” 
“Sounds like a riddle to me.” 
“All I can tell you is that I would like to have the test. The kind of simple home 
test you can pick up in a drugstore is fine. I’d also appreciate a handbook on the 
female body and menstruation.” 
Tamaru was silent once more—a hard, concentrated silence. 
“I think it would be better if I called you back,” he said. “Is that okay?” 
“Of course.” 
He made a small sound in the back of his throat, and hung up the phone. 
. . . 
The phone rang again fifteen minutes later. It had been a long while since Aomame 
had heard the dowager’s voice. She felt like she was back in the greenhouse. That 
humid, warm space where rare butterflies flutter about, and time passes slowly. 
“Are you doing all right there?” 
“I’m trying to keep to a daily routine,” Aomame replied. Since the dowager 
wanted to know, Aomame gave her a summary of her daily schedule, her exercising 
and meals. 
“It must be hard for you,” the dowager said, “not being able to go outside. But you 
have a strong will, so I’m not worried about you. I know you will be able to get 
through it. I would like to have you leave there as soon as possible and get you to a 
safer place, but if you want to stay there longer, I will do what I can to honor your 
wishes.” 
“I am grateful for that.” 
“No, I’m the one who should be grateful to you. You have done a wonderful thing 
for us.” A short silence followed, and then the dowager continued. “Now, I 
understand you have requested a pregnancy test.” 
“My period is nearly three weeks late.” 
“Are your periods usually regular?” 
“Since they began when I was ten, I have had a period every twenty-nine days, 
almost without fail. Like the waxing and waning of the moon. I’ve never skipped 
one.” 
“You are in an unusual situation right now. Your emotional balance and physical 
rhythm will be thrown off. It’s possible your period might stop, or the timing may be 
off.” 
“It has never happened before, but I understand how it could.” 
“According to Tamaru you don’t see how you could be pregnant.” 
“The last time I had sexual relations with a man was the middle of June. After that, 
nothing at all.” 
“Still, you suspect you might be pregnant. Is there any evidence for that? Other 
than your period being late?” 
“I just have a feeling about it.” 

---

592
“A feeling?” 
“A feeling inside me.” 
“A feeling that you have conceived?” 
“Once we talked about eggs, remember? The evening we went to see Tsubasa. 
About how women have a set number of them?” 
“I remember. The average woman has about four hundred eggs. Each month, she 
releases one of them.” 
“Well, I have the distinct sensation that one of those eggs has been fertilized. I 
don’t know if