After the quake blind willow, sleeping woman dance dance dance

And I should have worn gloves, too
, she thought. 
Why didn’t I think of that?
But 
regretting it wasn’t going to be any help. She had only thought to wear exactly the 
same thing as before. She had to cling to the rungs and keep on climbing. 
As she shivered in the cold, patiently climbing upward, she looked over at the 
balcony of the apartment building across the road. A five-story building made of 
brown brick tiles, the same building she had seen when she had climbed down. Lights 
were on in half the rooms. It was so close by she could almost reach out and touch it. 
It might lead to trouble if one of the residents happened to spot them climbing up the 
emergency stairway like this in the middle of the night. The two of them were lit up 
well under the lights from Route 246. 
Fortunately, no one appeared at any of the windows. All the curtains were drawn 
tight. This was only to be expected, really. Who was going to come out on their 
balcony in the middle of a freezing night to watch an emergency stairway on an 
expressway? 
There was a potted rubber plant on one of the balconies, crouching down next to a 
grubby lawn chair. In April when she had climbed down she had seen the same rubber 
plant—a much more pathetic little plant than the one she had left behind at her 
apartment in Jiyugaoka. This little rubber plant must have been there the whole eight 
months, huddled in the same exact spot. It was faded and bedraggled, shoved away 
into the most inconspicuous spot in the world, completely forgotten, probably hardly 
ever watered. Still, that little plant gave Aomame courage and certainty as she 
struggled up the rickety stairway, her hands and legs freezing, her mind anxious and 
confused. 
It’s okay
, she told herself, 
I’m on the right track. At least I’m following the 
same path I took when I came here, from the opposite direction. This little rubber 
plant has been a landmark for me. A sober, solitary landmark
. 
When I climbed down the stairs back then, I came across a few spiderwebs. And I 
thought of Tamaki Otsuka, how during summer break in high school we took a trip 
together, and at night, in bed, we stripped naked and explored each other’s bodies
. 
Why had that memory suddenly come to her then, of all times, while climbing down 
an emergency stairway on the expressway? As she now climbed in the opposite 
direction, Aomame thought again of Tamaki. She remembered her smooth, 

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beautifully shaped breasts. 
So different from my own underdeveloped chest
, she 
thought. 
But those beautiful breasts are now gone forever
. 
She thought of Ayumi Nakano, the lonely policewoman who, one August night, 
wound up in a hotel room in Shibuya, handcuffed, strangled with a bathrobe belt. A 
troubled young woman walking toward the abyss of destruction. She had had 
beautiful breasts as well. 
Aomame mourned the deaths of these two friends deeply. It saddened her to think 
that these women were forever gone from the world. And she mourned their lovely 
breasts—breasts that had vanished without a trace. 
Please
, she pleaded. 
Protect me. I beg you—I need your help
. She believed that her 
voiceless words had reached the ears of her unfortunate friends. 
They’ll protect me. I 
know it
. 
When she finally came to the top of the ladder, she was faced with a catwalk that 
connected up to the side of the road. The catwalk had a low railing, and she would 
have to crouch low to pass through. Beyond the catwalk was a zigzagging stairway. 
Not a proper stairway, really, but certainly a far cry better than the ladder. As 
Aomame recalled, once she ascended the stairs she would come out onto the turnout 
along the expressway. Trucks barreling down the road sent shocks that rocked the 
catwalk, as if it were a small boat hit from the side by a wave. The roar of the traffic 
had increased. 
She checked that Tengo, who had come to the top of the ladder, was right behind 
her, and she reached out and took his hand. His hand was warm. She found it odd that 
his hand could be so warm on such a cold night, after holding on to a freezing ladder. 
“We’re almost there,” Aomame said in his ear. With the traffic noise and the wind 
she had to raise her voice. “Once we get up those stairs we’ll be on the expressway.”