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At the very end, just before she killed herself, Tamaki wrote
a long letter to
Aomame. It started by saying that she had been wrong and Aomame had been right
from the start. She closed the letter this way:
I am living in hell from one day to the next. But there is nothing I can do to escape. I
don’t know where I would go if I did. I feel utterly powerless, and that feeling is my
prison. I entered of my own free will, I locked the door, and I threw away the key.
This marriage was of course a mistake, just as you said. But the deepest problem is
not in my husband or in my married life. It is inside me. I deserve all the pain I am
feeling. I can’t blame anyone else. You are my only friend, the
only person in the
world I can trust. But I am beyond saving now. Please remember me always if you
can. If only we could have gone on playing softball together forever!
Aomame felt horribly sick as she read Tamaki’s letter. Her body would not stop
trembling. She called Tamaki’s house several times, but no one took the call. All she
got was the machine. She took the train to Setagaya and walked to Tamaki’s house in
Okusawa. It was on a large plot of land behind a high wall. Aomame rang the
intercom bell, but no one answered this, either. There was only the sound of a dog
barking inside. All she could do was give up and go home. She had no way of
knowing it, but Tamaki had already drawn her last breath. She was hanging alone
from a rope she had tied to the stairway handrail. Inside
the hushed house, the
telephone’s bell and the front-door chime had been ringing in emptiness.
Aomame received the news of Tamaki’s death with little sense of surprise.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she must have been expecting it. She felt no
sadness welling up. She gave the caller a perfunctory answer, hung up, and settled
into a chair. After she had been sitting there for a considerable length of time, she felt
all the liquids in her body pouring out of her. She could not get out of the chair for a
very long time. She telephoned her company to say she felt sick and would not be in
for several days. She stayed in her apartment, not eating, not sleeping, hardly drinking
even water. She did not attend the funeral.
She felt as if, with a distinct click,
something had switched places inside her.
This marks a borderline
, she felt strongly.
From now on, I will no longer be the person I was
.
Aomame resolved in her heart to punish the man for what he had done.
Whatever
happens, I must be sure to present him with the end of the world. Otherwise, he will
do the same thing to someone else
.
Aomame spent a great deal of time formulating a meticulous plan. She had already
learned that a needle thrust into a certain point on the back of the neck at a certain
angle could kill a person instantly. It was not something that just anyone could do, of
course. But she could do it. First, she would have to train herself to find the extremely
subtle point by touch in the shortest possible time. Next she would have to have an
instrument suited to such a task. She obtained the necessary tools and,
over time,
fashioned for herself a special implement that looked like a small, slender ice pick. Its
needle was as sharp and cold and pointed as a merciless idea. She found many ways
to undertake the necessary training, and she did so with great dedication. When she
was satisfied with her preparation, she put her plan into action. Unhesitatingly, coolly,
and precisely, she brought the kingdom down upon the man. And when she was
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finished she even intoned a prayer, its phrases falling from her lips almost as a matter
of reflex:
O Lord in Heaven, may Thy name be praised in utmost purity for ever and ever, and
may Thy kingdom come to us. Please forgive our many sins,
and bestow Thy
blessings upon our humble pathways. Amen.
It was after this that Aomame came to feel an intense periodic craving for men’s
bodies.