After the quake blind willow, sleeping woman dance dance dance

dare
talk to me about a “normal life,” Mr. Know-it-all. What do 
you
know 
about a “normal life”? Tengo did not try to argue with him. He merely stared back in 
silence, knowing that nothing he said would get through to his father. If that was what 
Tengo wanted, his father continued, that was what he would get. But if 
he
couldn’t 
listen to his father, his father couldn’t go on feeding him anymore. Tengo should get 
the hell out. 
Tengo did as he was told. He packed a bag and left home. He had made up his 
mind. No matter how angry his father got, no matter how much he screamed and 
shouted, Tengo was not going to be afraid—even if his father raised a hand to him 
(which he did not do). Now that Tengo had been given permission to leave his cage, 
he was more relieved than anything else. 
But still, there was no way a ten-year-old boy could live on his own. When class 
was dismissed at the end of the day, he confessed his predicament to his teacher and 
said he had no place to spend the night. He also explained to her what an emotional 
burden it had been for him to make the rounds with his father on Sundays collecting 
NHK subscription fees. The teacher was a single woman in her mid-thirties. She was 
far from beautiful and she wore thick, ugly glasses, but she was a fair-minded, 
warmhearted person. A small woman, she was normally quiet and mild-mannered, but 
she could be surprisingly quick-tempered; once she let her anger out, she became a 
different person, and no one could stop her. The difference shocked people. Tengo, 
however, was fond of her, and her temper tantrums never frightened him. 
She heard Tengo out with understanding and sympathy, and she brought him home 
to spend the night in her house. She spread a blanket on the sofa and had him sleep 
there. She made him breakfast in the morning. That evening she took him to his 
father’s place for a long talk. 

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163
Tengo was told to leave the room, so he was not sure what they said to each other, 
but finally his father had to sheathe his sword. However extreme his anger might be, 
he could not leave a ten-year-old boy to wander the streets alone. The duty of a parent 
to support his child was a matter of law. 
As a result of the teacher’s talk with his father, Tengo was free to spend Sundays 
as he pleased. He was required to devote the morning to housework, but he could do 
anything he wanted after that. This was the first tangible right that Tengo had ever 
won from his father. His father was too angry to talk to Tengo for a while, but this 
was of no great concern to the boy. He had won something far more important than 
that. He had taken his first step toward freedom and independence. 
Tengo did not see his fifth-grade teacher for a long time after he left elementary 
school. He probably could have seen her if he had attended the occasional class 
reunion, to which he was invited, but he had no intention of showing his face at such 
gatherings. He had virtually no happy memories from that school. He did, however, 
think of his teacher now and then and recall what she had done for him. 
The next time he saw her, Tengo was in his second year of high school. He 
belonged to the judo club, but he had injured his calf at the time and was forced to 
take a two-month break from judo matches. Instead, he was recruited to be a 
temporary percussionist in the school’s brass band. The band was only days away 
from a competition, but one of their two percussionists suddenly transferred to 
another school, and the other one came down with a bad case of influenza. All they 
needed was a human being who could hold two sticks, the music teacher said, 
pleading with Tengo to help them out of their predicament since his injury had left 
him with time to kill. There would be several meals in it for Tengo, and the teacher 
promised to go easy on his grade if he would join the rehearsals. 
Tengo had never performed on a percussion instrument nor had any interest in 
doing so, but once he actually tried playing, he was amazed to find that it was 
perfectly suited to the way his mind worked. He felt a natural joy in dividing time into 
small fragments, reassembling them, and transforming them into an effective row of 
tones. All of the sounds mentally appeared to him in the form of a diagram. He 
proceeded to grasp the system of one percussion instrument after another the way a 
sponge soaks up water. His music teacher introduced him to a symphony orchestra’s 
percussionist, from whom he learned the techniques of the timpani. He mastered its 
general structure and performance technique with only a few hours’ lessons. And 
because the score resembled numerical expression, learning how to read it was no 
great challenge for him. 
The music teacher was delighted to discover Tengo’s outstanding musical talent. 
“You seem to have a natural sense for complex rhythms and a marvelous ear for 
music,” he said. “If you continue to study with professionals, you could become one 
yourself.” 
The timpani was a difficult instrument, but it was deep and compelling in its own 
special way, its combination of sounds hinting at infinite possibilities. Tengo and his 
classmates were rehearsing several passages excerpted from Janá
č
ek’s 
Sinfonietta
, as 
arranged for wind instruments. They were to perform it as their “free-choice piece” in 

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164
a competition for high school brass bands. Janá
č
ek’s 
Sinfonietta
was a difficult piece 
for high school musicians, and the timpani figured prominently in the opening 
fanfare. The music teacher, who doubled as the band leader, had chosen 
Sinfonietta
on the assumption that he had two outstanding percussionists to work with, and when 
he suddenly lost them, he was at his wit’s end. Obviously, then, Tengo had a major 
role to fill, but he felt no pressure and wholeheartedly enjoyed the performance. 
The band’s performance was flawless (good enough for a top prize, if not the 
championship), and when it was over, Tengo’s old fifth-grade teacher came over to 
congratulate him on his fine playing. 
“I knew it was you right away, Tengo,” she said. He recognized this small woman 
but couldn’t recall her name. “The timpani sounded so good, I looked to see who 
could be playing—and it was 
you
, of all people! You’re a lot bigger than you used to 
be, but I recognized your face immediately. When did you start playing?” 
Tengo gave her a quick summary of the events that had led up to this performance, 
which made her all the more impressed. “You’re such a talented boy, and in so many 
ways!” 
“Judo is a lot easier for me,” Tengo said, smiling. 
“So, how’s your father?” she asked. 
“He’s fine,” Tengo responded automatically, though he didn’t know—and didn’t 
want to know—how his father was doing. By then Tengo was living in a dormitory 
and hadn’t spoken to his father in a very long time. 
“Why are you here?” he asked the teacher. 
“My niece plays clarinet in another high school’s band. She wanted me to hear her 
play a solo. Are you going to keep up with your music?” 
“I’ll go back to judo when my leg gets better. Judo keeps me fed. My school 
supports judo in a big way. They cover my room and board. The band can’t do that.” 
“I guess you’re trying not to depend on your father?” 
“Well, you know what he’s like,” Tengo said. 
She smiled at him. “It’s too bad, though. With all your talents!” 
Tengo looked down at the small woman and remembered the night she put him up 
at her place. He pictured the plain and practical—but neat and tidy—little apartment 
in which she lived. The lace curtains and potted plants. The ironing board and open 
book. The small pink dress hanging on the wall. The smell of the sofa where he slept. 
And now here she stood before him, he realized, fidgeting like a young girl. He 
realized, too, that he was no longer a powerless ten-year-old boy but a strapping 
seventeen-year-old—broad-chested, with stubble to shave and a sex drive in full 
bloom. He felt strangely calm in the presence of this older woman. 
“I’m glad I ran into you,” she said. 
“I am too,” Tengo replied. He really was glad. But he still couldn’t remember her 
name. 

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