After the quake blind willow, sleeping woman dance dance dance

Before the Flood
and expounding on the 
Witnesses’ doctrines. The mother would explain in basic language the many signs of 
coming destruction that were apparent in the present world. She referred to God as 
“the Lord.” At most homes, of course, they would have the door slammed in their 
faces. This was because their doctrines were simply too narrow-minded, too one-
sided, too divorced from reality—or at least from what most people thought of as 
reality. Once in a great while, however, they would find someone who was willing to 
listen to them. There were people in the world who wanted someone to talk to—about 
anything, no matter what. Among these few individuals, there would occasionally be 
the exceedingly rare person who would actually attend one of their meetings. They 
would go from house to house, ringing doorbells, in search of that one person in a 
thousand. They had been entrusted with the sacred duty to guide the world toward an 
awakening, however minimal, through their continued efforts. The more taxing their 
duty, the higher the thresholds, and the more radiant was the bliss that would be 
granted them. 
Whenever Tengo saw her, the girl was making the rounds, proselytizing with her 
mother. In one hand, the mother held a cloth bag stuffed with copies of 
Before the 
Flood
, and the other hand usually held a parasol. The girl followed a few steps 
behind, lips compressed in a straight line as always, face expressionless. Tengo 
passed the girl on the street several times this way while he was making the rounds 
with his father, collecting NHK subscription fees. He would recognize her, and she 
would recognize him. Whenever this happened, he thought he could see some kind of 

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secret gleam in her eye. Of course, they never spoke. No greeting passed between 
them. Tengo’s father was too busy trying to increase his collections, and the girl’s 
mother was too busy preaching the coming end of the world. The boy and girl simply 
rushed past each other on the Sunday street in their parents’ wake, exchanging 
momentary glances. 
All the children in their class knew that the girl was a Witness believer. “For 
religious reasons,” she never participated in the school’s Christmas events or in 
school outings or study tours when these involved visits to Shinto shrines or Buddhist 
temples. Nor did she participate in athletic meets or the singing of the school song or 
the national anthem. Such behavior, which could only be viewed as extreme, served 
increasingly to isolate the girl from her classmates. The girl was also required to 
recite—in a loud, clear voice, so that the other children could hear every word—a 
special prayer before she ate her school lunches. Not surprisingly, her classmates 
found this utterly creepy. She could not have been all that eager to perform in front of 
them. But it had been instilled in her that prayers must be recited before meals, and 
you were not allowed to omit them simply because no other believers were there to 
observe you. The Lord saw everything—every little thing—from on high. 
O Lord in Heaven, may Thy name be praised in utmost purity for ever and ever, and 
may Thy kingdom come to us. Please forgive our many sins, and bestow Thy 
blessings upon our humble pathways. Amen. 
How strange a thing is memory! Tengo could recall every word of her prayer even 
though he hadn’t heard it for twenty years.