After the quake blind willow, sleeping woman dance dance dance

possible
. It wasn’t like he was hoping 
for revenge. Rather, he felt content to know that he was, unavoidably, an inherent part 
of the world’s structure. 
He sat down on his sofa, plopped his stubby legs up on the table, and, as he sipped 
his beer, a thought suddenly came to him. 
It might not work out
, he thought, 
but it was 
worth trying. It’s so simple—why hadn’t it occurred to me?
he wondered, finding it 
odd. 
Maybe the easiest things are the hardest to come up with. Like they say, people 
miss what’s going on right under their noses
. 
The next morning Ushikawa went to Koenji again. He saw a real estate agency, went 
inside, and asked if there were any apartments available for rent in Tengo’s building. 
But this agency didn’t handle that building. All rentals in that apartment building 
were handled by an agency in front of the station. 
“I sort of doubt there are any units available,” the agent said. “The rent is 
reasonable, and it’s a convenient location, so few people move out.” 
“Well, I’ll ask anyway, just to make sure,” Ushikawa said. 
He stopped by the agency in front of the station. A young man in his early twenties 
was the one who dealt with him. The man had jet-black hair, hardened with gel to the 
consistency of a bird’s nest. He wore a bright white shirt and a brand-new tie. He 
probably hadn’t been working there long. He still had marks from pimples on his 
cheeks. The man flinched a bit when he looked at Ushikawa, but soon recovered and 
gave him a pleasant, professional smile. 

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641
“You’re in luck, sir,” the young man said. “The couple on the first floor had some 
family issues that arose and they had to move out quickly, so one of the units has been 
vacant for a week. We finished cleaning it yesterday but haven’t advertised it yet. It’s 
on the first floor so it might be a bit noisy, and it doesn’t get a lot of sun, but it’s a 
wonderful location. There is one condition of the contract, however: in five or six 
years the owner plans to completely rebuild the place, so when you receive notice of 
that renovation six months ahead of time, you’ll need to move out, with no 
complaints. Plus, there’s no parking lot there.” 
“Not a problem,” Ushikawa replied. He didn’t plan to stay there that long, and he 
didn’t have a car. 
“Excellent. If you agree to those conditions, then you can move in at once. I 
imagine you would like to see the apartment first?” 
“Yes, of course,” Ushikawa replied. The young man took a key out of a desk 
drawer and passed it to him. 
“I’m very sorry, but I have an errand to run, so if you don’t mind, could you check 
out the place by yourself? The apartment is empty, and all you need to do is drop off 
the key on your way back.” 
“That sounds fine,” Ushikawa said, “but what if I’m some evil man who never 
gives the key back, or makes a copy and sneaks in later to ransack the place? What 
would you do then?” 
The young man stared in surprise at Ushikawa for a time. “Yes, good point. I see. 
Just to be on the safe side, could you give me a card?” 
Ushikawa took out one of his New Japan Foundation for the Advancement of 
Scholarship and the Arts business cards and handed it to him. 
“Mr. Ushikawa,” the young man frowned as he read the name. But then he looked 
relieved. “You don’t look to me like someone who would do something bad.” 
“Much appreciated,” Ushikawa replied. And he smiled, a smile as meaningless as 
the title listed on his card. 
No one had ever told him this before. Maybe it meant his looks were too unusual 
for him to ever do anything bad. It would be too easy for anyone to describe him, and 
a simple matter to draw a police sketch. If a warrant were issued for his arrest, he 
wouldn’t last three days. 
The apartment was nicer than he had imagined. Tengo’s third-floor apartment was 
two stories directly above, so it was impossible to observe his place. But the front 
entrance was visible from his window so he could see when Tengo entered and exited 
the building, and spot anyone visiting him. He could just camouflage a telephoto lens 
and take pictures of each person’s face. 
In order to rent this apartment he had to pay two months’ security deposit: one 
month’s rent up front, plus a fee equivalent to the second month’s rent. The rent itself 
wasn’t that high, and the security deposit would be returned when the lease was up, 
but still, this all came to a hefty sum. Having just paid Bat, his resources were 
severely depleted, but he knew he had to rent that apartment. There was no other 
choice. Ushikawa went back to the real estate agency, took out the cash he had 
already prepared in an envelope, and signed the lease. The lease was with the New 
Japan Foundation for the Advancement of Scholarship and the Arts. He told them he 
would mail them a certified copy of the foundation’s registry later. This didn’t seem 

---

642
to faze the young real estate agent. Once the lease was signed, the agent again handed 
him the keys. 
“Mr. Ushikawa, the apartment is ready for you to move in today. The electricity 
and water are on, but you will have to be present when they turn on the gas, so please 
contact Tokyo Gas yourself. What will you do about a phone?” 
“I’ll handle that myself,” Ushikawa said. It took a lot of time and effort to get a 
contract with the phone company, and a workman would have to come to the 
apartment to install it. It was easier to use a nearby pay phone. 
Ushikawa went back to the apartment and drew up a list of items he would be 
needing. Thankfully the previous resident had left the curtains up. They were old, 
flowery curtains, but as long as they were curtains, he felt lucky to have them. 
Curtains of some kind were indispensable to a stakeout. 
The list of necessary items wasn’t all that long. The main things he would need 
were food and drinking water, a camera with a telephoto lens, and a tripod. The rest of 
his list included toilet paper, a heavy-duty sleeping bag, portable kerosene containers, 
a camping stove, a sharp knife, a can opener, garbage bags, basic toiletries, and an 
electric razor, several towels, a flashlight, and a transistor radio. The minimal amount 
of clothes and a carton of cigarettes. That was about it. No need for a fridge, a table, 
or bedding. As long as he had a place to keep out of the weather, he considered 
himself lucky. Ushikawa returned to his own house and put a single reflex and a 
telephoto lens in a camera bag, as well as an ample amount of film. He then stuffed all 
the items on his list into a travel bag. He bought the additional things he still needed 
in the shopping district in front of Koenji Station. 
He set up his tripod next to the window, attached the latest Minolta automatic 
camera to it, screwed on the telephoto lens, aimed it at the level of the faces of anyone 
who came in or exited the building, and set the camera to manual. He made it so he 
could use a remote control to work the shutter and set the motor drive. He fashioned a 
cardboard cone to go around the lens so that light wouldn’t reflect off the lens. From 
the outside, part of a paper tube was visible at one end of the slightly raised curtain, 
but no one would ever notice it. No one would ever imagine that someone was 
secretly photographing the entrance of such a nondescript apartment building. 
Ushikawa took a few test shots of people coming in and out of the building. 
Because of the motor drive he was able to get three quick shots of each person. As a 
precaution he wrapped a towel around the body of the camera to muffle any noise. As 
soon as he finished the first roll, he took it to the photo store next to the station. The 
clerk placed it in a machine that would automatically develop and print the photos. It 
handled great numbers of photos at high speed, so no one ever noticed or cared about 
the images printed on them. 
The photos came out fine—not very artistic, to be sure, but serviceable. The faces 
of the people entering and exiting the building were clear enough to distinguish one 
from another. On the way back from the photo shop, Ushikawa bought some mineral 
water and several cans of food. And he bought a carton of Seven Stars at a smoke 
shop. Holding his bags of purchases in front of him to hide his face, he returned to the 
apartment and sat down again in front of the camera. As he kept watch over the 
entrance he drank some water, ate canned peaches, and smoked a couple of cigarettes. 
The electricity was on, but for some reason not the water. When he turned on the tap 

---

643
there was a rumbling sound in the wall, but nothing came out. Something had to be 
holding them up from turning on the water. He thought of contacting the real estate 
agent, but, wanting to limit his trips in and out of the building, he decided to wait and 
see. No running water meant he couldn’t use the toilet, so instead he peed into an old 
bucket the cleaning company had conveniently forgotten to take away. 
The impatient early-winter twilight came quickly and the room grew totally dark, 
but still he didn’t turn on the lights. Ushikawa rather welcomed the darkness. The 
light came on at the entrance and he continued to survey the faces that passed by 
under the yellowish light. 
As evening came, the foot traffic into and out of the building increased a bit, 
though the number of people was still not that great. It was, after all, a small 
apartment building. Tengo was not among them, and neither was anyone who could 
possibly be Aomame. Tengo was scheduled to teach at the cram school today. He 
would be coming back in the evening. He didn’t usually stop off anywhere on the way 
home after work. He preferred to make his own dinner rather than eat out, and he 
liked to eat alone while reading. Ushikawa knew all this. But Tengo didn’t come 
home. Perhaps he was meeting someone after work. 
A variety of people lived in the building, everyone from young, single working 
people, to college students, to couples with small children, to elderly people living 
alone—people from all walks of life. But all of them entered the frame of the lens, 
unaware they were under surveillance. Despite some differences in age and 
circumstances, every one of them looked worn out, tired of life. They appeared 
hopeless, abandoned by ambition, their emotions worn away, with only resignation 
and numbness filling the void left behind. As if they had just had a tooth pulled, their 
faces were dark, their steps heavy. 
But he may have been mistaken. Some of them may have actually been enjoying 
life to the fullest. Once they opened their doors, there was some breathtaking little 
paradise waiting just for them. Perhaps some of them were pretending to live a 
Spartan life to avoid getting audited by the Tax Bureau. This was possible. But 
through the telephoto lens, they all looked like dead-end city dwellers not going 
anywhere in life, clinging to a cheap apartment scheduled to be torn down. 
That night Tengo didn’t make an appearance and Ushikawa saw no one who could 
be connected to him. When ten thirty rolled around, he decided to call it a day. He 
hadn’t quite settled into a routine and didn’t want to push it.