After the quake blind willow, sleeping woman dance dance dance

your
plan was more or less hijacked by 
Professor Ebisuno.” 
“I suppose you could say that. Ultimately, 
his
agenda trumped mine.” 
Tengo said, “Do you think Professor Ebisuno will be able to make things work his 
way?” 

---

268
“Well, 
he
certainly thinks he can. He knows how to read a situation, and he has 
plenty of self-confidence. It just might go his way. But if this new commotion 
exceeds even Professor Ebisuno’s expectations, he might not be able to control the 
outcome. There’s a limit to what one person can do, even the most outstanding 
individual. So you’d better tighten your seat belt!” 
“Not even the tightest seat belt is going to do you any good if your plane crashes.” 
“No, but at least it makes you feel a little better.” 
Tengo couldn’t help smiling—if somewhat feebly. “Is that the point of this call—
the thing that might not be all that enjoyable but might have a certain amount of 
paradoxical humor about it?” 
“To tell you the truth, I am feeling sorry I got you involved in this,” Komatsu said 
in an expressionless voice. 
“Don’t worry about me. I don’t have a thing to lose—no family, no social position, 
no future to speak of. What I’m worried about is Fuka-Eri. She’s just a seventeen-
year-old girl.” 
“That concerns me, too, of course. There’s no way it couldn’t. But we can rack our 
brains here and it won’t change anything for her. For now, let’s just think about how 
we’re going to tie ourselves down somewhere so this storm doesn’t blow us away. 
We’d better keep a close eye on the papers.” 
“I’ve been making sure I check the papers every day.” 
“Good,” Komatsu said. “Which reminds me, do you have any idea at all where 
Fuka-Eri might be? Nothing comes to mind?” 
“Not a thing,” Tengo said. He was not a good liar. And Komatsu was strangely 
sensitive about such things. But he did not seem to notice the slight quaver in Tengo’s 
voice. His head was probably too full of himself at that point. 
“I’ll get in touch with you if anything else comes up,” Komatsu said, terminating 
the call. 
The first thing Tengo did after hanging up was pour an inch of bourbon into a 
glass. Komatsu had been right: he needed a drink. 
On Friday Tengo’s girlfriend came for her regular visit. The rain had stopped, but 
every inch of the sky was covered in gray cloud. They had a light meal and got into 
bed. Even during sex, Tengo went on thinking one fragmentary thought after another, 
but this did nothing to dull his physical pleasure. As always, she skillfully drew a 
week’s worth of desire out of Tengo and took care of it with great efficiency. She 
experienced full satisfaction, too, like a talented accountant who finds deep pleasure 
in the complex manipulation of figures in a ledger. Still, she seemed to notice that 
something else was on Tengo’s mind. 
“Hmm, your whiskey level seems to be going down,” she said. Her left hand rested 
on Tengo’s thick chest, enjoying the aftertaste of sex. Her third finger bore a smallish 
but sparkling diamond wedding ring. She was referring to the bottle of Wild Turkey 
that had been sitting on the shelf for months. Like most older women in sexual 
relationships with younger men, she was quick to note even tiny changes in his 
surroundings. 
“I’ve been waking up a lot at night,” Tengo said. 

---

269
“You’re not in love, are you?” 
Tengo shook his head. “No, I’m not in love.” 
“Your writing’s not going well, then?” 
“No, it’s moving along—where to, I’m not sure.” 
“But still, something’s bothering you.” 
“I wonder. I just can’t sleep very well. That rarely happens to me. I’ve always been 
a sound sleeper.” 
“Poor Tengo!” she said, caressing his testicles with the palm of the ringless hand. 
“Are you having nightmares?” 
“I almost never dream,” Tengo said, which was true. 
“I dream a lot. Some dreams I have over and over—so much so that I realize in the 
dream, ‘Hey, I’ve had this one before.’ Strange, huh?” 
“What kind of dreams do you have? Tell me one.” 
“Well, there’s my dream of a cottage in a forest.” 
“A cottage in a forest,” Tengo said. He thought about people in forests: the 
Gilyaks, the Little People, and Fuka-Eri. “What kind of cottage?” 
“You really want to know? Don’t you find other people’s dreams boring?” 
“No, not at all. Tell me, if you don’t mind,” Tengo said honestly. 
“I’m walking alone in the forest—not the thick, ominous forest that Hansel and 
Gretel got lost in, but more of a brightish, lightweight sort of forest. It’s a nice, warm 
afternoon, and I’m walking along without a care in the world. So then, up ahead, I see 
this little house. It’s got a chimney and a little porch, and gingham-check curtains in 
the windows. It’s friendly looking. I knock on the door and say, ‘Hello.’ There’s no 
answer. I try knocking again a little harder and the door opens by itself. It wasn’t 
completely closed, you see. I walk in yelling, ‘Hello! Is anybody home? I’m coming 
in!’ ” 
She looked at Tengo, gently stroking his testicles. “Do you get the mood so far?” 
“Sure, I do.” 
“It’s just a one-room cottage. Very simply built. It has a little kitchen, beds, and a 
dining area. There’s a woodstove in the middle, and dinner for four has been neatly 
set out on the table. Steam is rising from the dishes. But there’s nobody inside. It’s as 
if they were all set to start eating when something strange happened—like, a monster 
showed up or something, and everybody ran out. But the chairs are not in disarray. 
Everything is peaceful and almost strangely ordinary. There just aren’t any people 
there.” 
“What kind of food is on the table?” 
She had to think about that for a moment, cocking her head to one side. “I can’t 
remember. Good question: what kind of food is it? I guess the question isn’t so much 
what
they’re eating as that it’s freshly cooked and still hot. So anyhow, I sit in one of 
the chairs and wait for the family that lives there to come back. That’s what I’m 
supposed to do: just wait for them to come home. I don’t know why I’m