After the quake blind willow, sleeping woman dance dance dance

He must sweat something awful in the summer
, Tengo 
thought. His gray wool suit smelled of mothballs. He had a narrow forehead, and 
above it an overabundance of thick, luxurious black hair. The combination of the 
obese body and the thick hair didn’t work. His eyelids were heavy and swollen, his 
eyes narrow, but behind them was a friendly glint. 
“Your father entrusted me with his will. The word 
will
implies something 
significant, but this isn’t like one of those wills from a detective novel,” the lawyer 
said, and cleared his throat. “It’s actually closer to a simple memo. Let me start by 
briefly summarizing its contents. The will begins by outlining arrangements for his 
funeral. I believe the gentleman from Zenkosha has explained this to you?” 
“Yes, he did. It’s to be a simple funeral.” 

---

726
“Very good,” the lawyer said. “That was your father’s wish, that everything be 
done as plainly as possible. The funeral expenses will be paid out of a reserve fund he 
set aside, and medical and other expenses will come out of the security deposit your 
father paid when he checked into this facility. There will be nothing you will have to 
pay for out of your own pocket.” 
“He didn’t want to owe anybody, did he?” 
“Exactly. Everything has been prepaid. Also, your father has money in an account 
at the Chikura post office, which you, as his son, will inherit. You will need to take 
care of changing it over to your name. To do that, you’ll need the proof that your 
father has been removed from the family register, and a copy of your family register 
and seal certificate. You should go directly to the Chikura post office and sign the 
necessary documents yourself. The procedures take some time. As you know, 
Japanese banks and the post office are quite particular about filling in all the proper 
forms.” 
The lawyer took a large white handkerchief out of his coat pocket and wiped the 
sweat from his forehead. 
“That’s all I need to tell you about the inheritance. He had no assets other than the 
post office account—no insurance policies, stocks, real estate, jewelry, art objects—
nothing of this sort. Very straightforward, you could say, and fuss free.” 
Tengo nodded silently. It sounded like his father. But taking over his postal 
account made Tengo feel a little depressed. It felt like being handed a pile of damp, 
heavy blankets. If possible, he would rather not have it. But he couldn’t say this. 
“Your father also entrusted an envelope to my care. I have brought it with me and 
would like to give it to you now.” 
The thick brown envelope was sealed tight with packing tape. The obese lawyer 
took it from his black briefcase and laid it on the table. 
“I met Mr. Kawana soon after he came here, and he gave this to me then. He was 
still—conscious then. He would get confused occasionally, but he was generally able 
to function fine. He told me that when he died, he would like me to give this envelope 
to his legal heir.” 
“Legal heir,”
Tengo repeated, a bit surprised. 
“Yes. That was the term he used. Your father didn’t specify anyone in particular, 
but in practical terms you would be the only legal heir.” 
“As far as I know.” 
“Then, as instructed, here you go,” the lawyer said, pointing to the envelope on the 
table. “Could you sign a receipt for it, please?” 
Tengo signed the receipt. The brown office envelope on the table looked 
anonymous and bland. Nothing was written on it, neither on the front nor on the back. 
“There’s one thing I would like to ask you,” Tengo said to the lawyer. “Did my 
father ever mention my name? Or use the word 
son
?” 
As he mulled this over, the lawyer pulled out his handkerchief again and mopped 
his brow. He shook his head slightly. “No, Mr. Kawana always used the term