After the quake blind willow, sleeping woman dance dance dance

something
held her back. For some reason, she was unable to bring down the 
fist she was holding aloft. 
With this, it will be all over
, Aomame thought. 
With one 
stroke, I can send this man to the “other side.” Then I leave the room looking cool, 
change my face and name, and take on a new personality. I can do it. Without fear, 
without pangs of conscience. This man has repeatedly committed loathsome acts that 
deserve death, there can be no doubt
. But, for some reason, she could not bring 
herself to do it. What held her right hand back was an incoherent yet persistent doubt. 
This is all happening too easily
, her instincts were warning her. 
Reason had nothing to do with it. She simply knew: something was wrong. 
Something was not natural. All her powers and abilities were clashing inside her, their 
disparate elements engaged in a fierce struggle. Her face performed deep contortions 
in the darkness. 
“What is it?” the man called out. “I’m waiting. I’m waiting for you to finish once 
and for all.” 
When she heard this, Aomame finally realized what was holding her back. 
This 
man knows. He knows what I am about to do to him
. 
“There is no need for you to hesitate,” the man said calmly. “It’s all right. What 
you want is also what I want.” 
The thunder continued to rumble, but there was no lightning to be seen, just a roar 
like distant cannons. The battlefield was still far off. The man continued. 
“If there were ever a perfect 
treatment
, that is it. You did a careful job of stretching 
out my muscles. I have only the purest respect for your skill. But as you pointed out 
yourself, it is, ultimately, nothing but a symptomatic treatment. My pain has advanced 
to the point where it can only be resolved by severing my life at the roots, by going 
down to the basement and cutting the main switch. You are about to do that for me.” 
Aomame maintained her pose, the left hand holding the needle against the special 
spot on the back of his neck, the right hand held aloft. She could move neither 
forward nor back. 
“If you want to put a stop to what you are about to do, there are any number of 
ways you can do that. It’s simple,” he said. “Try bringing your right hand down.” 
As directed, Aomame tried to lower her right hand. But it would not budge. It was 
frozen in midair, like the hand of a stone statue. 
“I have the power to do that—not that it was something I ever hoped to obtain. All 
right, you can move your right hand now. Now you are in complete control of my 
life.” 
Aomame became aware that she could now move her right hand freely. She 
clenched her fist and opened it. It felt entirely normal. He must have employed 
something like hypnotism. Whatever it was, it was very powerful. 
“They have granted me these special powers, but in return they have impressed 
certain demands upon me. Their desires have become my desires—implacable desires 
that I have been unable to defy.” 
“
They?
” Aomame asked. “Do you mean the Little People?” 
“So you know about them. Good. That will save time explaining.” 
“All I know is that name. I don’t know who or what the Little People are.” 

---

390
“Probably no one knows for sure who the Little People are,” the man said. “All 
that people are able to learn is that they exist. Have you read Frazer’s 
The Golden 
Bough
?” 
“No, I haven’t.” 
“It is a very interesting book that has much to teach us. In certain periods of history 
in several parts of the world—in ancient times, of course—the king was often killed at 
the end of his reign, usually after a fixed period of ten to twelve years. When the term 
ended, the people would gather together and slaughter him. This was deemed 
necessary for the community, and the kings themselves willingly accepted it. The 
killing had to be cruel and bloody, and it was considered a great honor bestowed upon 
the one who was king. Now, why did the king have to be killed? It was because in 
those days the king was the