1q84 by Haruki Murakami
Aomame was confused. She bit her lip and contemplated her next step. Am I supposed to ring the bell? she asked herself.
Or was this some clever trap? Maybe Bobblehead was hiding behind the door, like an evil dwarf in a dark forest, an ominous smile on his face as he waited. He deliberately revealed himself on top of that slide to lure me over here and take me captive. Fully aware that I’m searching for Tengo, he’s using that as bait. A low-down, cunning man who knows exactly what my weak point is. That’s the only way he could ever get me to open my door from the inside.
She checked that no one else was around and pulled the pistol out of her jeans. She flicked off the safety and stuffed the pistol into the pocket of her down jacket so she could get to it easily. She gripped the pistol in her right hand, finger on the trigger, and with her left hand pressed the doorbell.
The doorbell rang inside the apartment. A leisurely chime, out of step with her racing heart. She gripped the pistol tight, waiting for the door to open. But it didn’t. And there didn’t seem to be anyone peering out at her through the peephole. She waited a moment, then rang the bell again. The bell was loud enough to get all the people in Suginami Ward to raise their heads and prick up their ears. Aomame’s right hand on the pistol grip started to sweat a little. But there was no response.
Better leave, she decided. The Kawana who lives in 303, whoever he is, isn’t at home. And that ominous Bobblehead is still lurking somewhere in this building. Too dangerous to stay any longer. She rushed down the stairs, shooting a glance at the mailbox as she passed, and left the building. Head down, she hurried under the yellow light and headed toward the street. She glanced back to make sure no one was following her.
There were lots of things she needed to think about, and an equal number of decisions she had to make. She felt in her pocket and reset the safety on the pistol. Then, away from any possible prying eyes, she shoved the pistol in the back of her jeans. I can’t get my expectations or hopes up too high, she told herself. The Kawana who lived there might be Tengo. And then again he might not. Once you get your hopes up, your mind starts acting on its own. And when your hopes are dashed you get disappointed, and disappointment leads to a feeling of helplessness. You get careless and let your guard down. And right now, she thought, that’s the last thing I can afford.
I have no idea how much Bobblehead knows. But the reality is that he’s getting close to me. Almost close enough to reach out and touch. I need to pull myself together and stay alert. I’m dealing with someone who is totally dangerous. The tiniest mistake could be fatal. First of all, I have to stay away from that old apartment building. He’s hiding in there, scheming how to capture me—like a poisonous, blood-sucking spider who has spun a web in the darkness.
By the time she got back to her apartment Aomame’s mind was made up. There was but one path she could follow.
This time she dialed Tamaru’s entire number. She let it ring twelve times, then hung up. She took off her cap and coat, returned the pistol to the drawer, then gulped down two glasses of water. She filled the kettle and boiled water for tea. She peeked through a gap in the curtain at the park across the street, to make sure no one was there. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror and brushed her hair. Even after that her fingers didn’t work right. The tension remained. She was pouring hot water in the teapot when the phone rang. It was Tamaru, of course.
“I just saw Bobblehead,” she told him.
Silence. “By just saw him you mean he’s not there anymore?”
“That’s right,” Aomame said. “A little while ago he was in the park across from my building. But he’s not there anymore.”
“How long ago do you mean by a little while ago?”
“About forty minutes ago.”
“Why didn’t you call me forty minutes ago?”
“I had to follow him right away and didn’t have the time.”
Tamaru exhaled ever so slowly, as if squeezing out the breath. “Follow him?”
“I didn’t want to lose him.”
“I thought I told you never to go outside.”
Aomame chose her words carefully. “But I can’t just sit by when danger’s approaching me. Even if I had called you, you wouldn’t have been able to get here right away. Right?”
Tamaru made a small sound in the back of his throat. “So you followed Bobblehead.”
“It looks like he had no idea at all he was being followed.”
“A pro can act like that,” Tamaru cautioned.
Tamaru was right. It all might have been an elaborate ruse. Not that she would admit that. “I’m sure you would be able to do that, but as far as I could tell, Bobblehead isn’t on the same level. He may be skilled, but he’s different from you.”
“He might have had backup.”
“No. He was definitely on his own.”
Tamaru paused for a moment. “All right. So did you find out where he was heading?”
Aomame told him the address of the building and described its exterior. She didn’t know which apartment he was in. Tamaru took notes. He asked a few questions, and Aomame answered as accurately as she could.
“You said that when you first saw him he was in the park across the street from you,” Tamaru said.
“Correct.”
“What was he doing there?”
Aomame told him—how the man was sitting on top of the slide and staring at the night sky. She didn’t mention the two moons. That was only to be expected.
“Looking at the sky?” Tamaru asked. Aomame could hear the gears shift in his mind.
“The sky, or the moon, or the stars. One of those.”
“And he let himself be exposed like that, defenseless, on the slide.”
“That’s right.”
“Don’t you find that odd?” Tamaru asked. His voice was hard and dry, reminding her of a desert plant that could survive a whole year on one day’s worth of rain. “That man had run you down. He was one step away from you. Pretty impressive. Yet there he was, on top of a slide, leisurely gazing up at the night sky, not paying any attention to the apartment where you live. It doesn’t add up.”
“I agree—it doesn’t make much sense. Be that as it may, I couldn’t very well let him go.”
Tamaru sighed. “But I still think it was dangerous.”
Aomame didn’t say anything.
“Did following him help you get any closer to solving the riddle?” Tamaru asked.
“No,” Aomame said. “But there was one thing that caught my attention.”
“Which was?”
“When I looked at the mailboxes I saw that a person named Kawana lives on the third floor.”
“So?”
“Have you heard of Air Chrysalis? The bestselling novel this past summer?”
“Even I read newspapers, you know. The author, Eriko Fukada, was the daughter of a follower of Sakigake. She disappeared and they suspected she was abducted by the cult. The police investigated it. I haven’t read the novel yet.”
“Eriko Fukada isn’t just the daughter of a follower. Her father was Leader, the head of Sakigake. She’s the daughter of the man I sent on to the other side. Tengo Kawana was hired by the editor as a ghostwriter, and rewrote Air Chrysalis. In reality the novel is a joint work between the two of them.”
A long silence descended. Long enough to walk to the end of a long, narrow room, look up something in a dictionary, and walk back. Finally Tamaru broke the silence.
“You have no proof that the Kawana who lives in that building is Tengo Kawana.”
“Not yet, no,” Aomame admitted. “But if he is the same person, then this all makes sense.”
“Certain parts do mesh together,” Tamaru said. “But how do you know that this Tengo Kawana ghostwrote Air Chrysalis? That can’t have been made public. It would have caused a major scandal.”
“I heard it from Leader himself. Right before he died, he told me.”
Tamaru’s voice turned a little cold. “Don??
“At the time I didn’t think it was so important.”
There was silence again for a time. Aomame couldn’t tell what Tamaru was thinking, but she knew he didn’t like excuses.
“Okay,” he finally said. “We’ll put that on hold. Let’s cut to the chase. What you’re trying to say is that Bobblehead marked this Tengo Kawana. And using that as a lead, he was tracking down your whereabouts.”
“That’s what I think.”
“I don’t get it,” Tamaru said. “Why would Tengo Kawana be a lead to find you? There isn’t any connection between you and Kawana, is there? Other than that you dealt with Eriko Fukada’s father, and Tengo was the ghostwriter for her novel.”
“There is a connection,” Aomame said, her voice flat.
“There’s a direct relationship between you and Tengo Kawana. Is that what you’re saying?”
“He and I were in the same class in elementary school. And I believe he’s the father of my baby. But I can’t explain any more beyond that. It’s very—how should I put it?—personal.”
On the other end of the phone she heard a ballpoint pen tapping on a desk. That was the only sound she could hear.
“Personal,” Tamaru repeated, in a voice that sounded like he had spied some weird creature on top of a rock in a garden.
“I’m sorry,” Aomame said.
“I understand. It’s a very personal thing. I won’t ask anymore,” Tamaru said. “So, specifically, what do you want from me?”
“Well, the first thing I would like to know is if the Kawana who lives in that building is actually Tengo Kawana. If it were possible, I would like to make sure of that myself, but it’s too risky to go there again.”
“Agreed.”
“And Bobblehead is probably holed up somewhere in that building, planning something. If he’s getting close to locating me, we have to do something about it.”
“He already knows a certain amount about the connection between you and the dowager. He has painstakingly hauled in these various leads and is trying to tie them all together. We can’t ignore him.”
“I have one other request of you,” Aomame said.
“Go ahead.”
“If it is really Tengo Kawana living there, I don’t want any harm to come to him. If it’s unavoidable that he is going to get hurt, then I want to take his place.”
Tamaru was silent again for a time. No more ballpoint pen tapping this time. There were no sounds at all, in fact. He was considering things in a world devoid of sound.
“I think I can take care of the first two requests,” Tamaru said. “That’s part of my job. But I can’t say anything about the third. It involves very personal things, and there’s too much about it I don’t understand. Speaking from experience, taking care of three items at once isn’t easy. Like it or not, you end up prioritizing.”
“I don’t mind. You can prioritize them however you like. I just want you to keep this in mind: while I’m still alive, I have to meet Tengo. There’s something I have to tell him.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Tamaru said. “While there’s still spare room in my mind, that is.”
“Thank you.”
“I have to report what you have told me to the dowager. This is a rather delicate issue, and I can’t decide things on my own. So I’ll hang up for now. Listen—do not go outside anymore. Lock the door and stay put. If you go outside, it could cause problems. Maybe it already has.”
“But it helped me find out a few things about him.”
“All right,” Tamaru said, sounding resigned. “From what you have told me, it sounds like you did an excellent job. I’ll admit that. But don’t let your guard down. We don’t know yet what he’s got up his sleeve. And considering the situation, most likely he has an organization behind him. Do you still have the thing I gave you?”
“Of course.”
“Best to keep it nearby.”
“Will do.”
A short pause, then the phone connection went dead.
Aomame sank back into the bathtub, which she had filled to the brim, and while she warmed up, she thought about Tengo—the Tengo who might or might not be living in an apartment in that old building. She pictured the uninviting steel door, the slot for the name card, the name Kawana printed on the card. What kind of place was beyond that door? And what kind of life was he living?
In the hot water she touched her breasts, rubbing them. Her nipples had grown larger and harder than before, and more sensitive. I wish these were Tengo’s hands instead of mine, she thought. She imagined his hands, large and warm. Strong, but surely gentle. If her breasts were enveloped in his hands—how much joy, and peace, she would feel. Aomame also noticed that her breasts were now slightly larger. It was no illusion. They definitely were swollen, the curves softer. It’s probably due to my pregnancy. Or maybe they just got bigger, unrelated to being pregnant. One aspect of my transformation.
She put her hands on her abdomen. It was still barely swollen, and she didn’t have any morning sickness, for some reason. But there was a little one hidden within. She knew it. Wait a moment, she thought. Maybe they’re not after my life, but after this little one? As revenge for me killing Leader, are they trying to get to it, along with me? The thought made her shudder. Aomame was doubly determined now to see Tengo. Together, the two of them had to protect the little one. I have had so many precious things stolen from me in my life. But this is one I am going to hold on to.
She went to bed and read for a while, but sleep didn’t come. She shut her book, and gently rolled into a ball to protect her abdomen. With her cheek against the pillow, she thought of the winter moon in the sky above the park, and the little green moon beside it. Maza and dohta. The mixed light of the two moons bathing the bare branches of the zelkova tree. At this very moment Tamaru must be figuring out a plan, his mind racing at top speed. She could see him, brows knit, tip of his ballpoint pen tapping furiously on the desktop. Eventually, as if led by that monotonous, ceaseless rhythm, the soft blanket of sleep wrapped itself around her.
CHAPTER 21
Tengo
SOMEWHERE INSIDE HIS HEAD
The phone was ringing. The hands on his alarm clock showed 2:04. Monday, 2:04 a.m. It was still dark out and Tengo had been sound asleep. A peaceful, dreamless sleep.
First he thought it was Fuka-Eri. She would be the only person who would possibly call at this ungodly hour. Or it could be Komatsu. Komatsu didn’t have much common sense when it came to time. But somehow the ring didn’t sound like Komatsu. It was more insistent, and businesslike. And besides, he had just seen Komatsu a few hours earlier.
One option was to ignore the call and go back to sleep—Tengo’s first choice. But the phone kept on ringing. It might go on ringing all night, for that matter. He got out of bed, bumping his shin as he did, and picked up the receiver.
“Hello,” Tengo said, his voice still slurry from sleep. It was like his head was filled with frozen lettuce. There must be some people who don’t know you’re not supposed to freeze lettuce. Once lettuce has been frozen, it loses all its crispness—which for lettuce is surely its best characteristic.
When he held the receiver to his ear, he heard the sound of wind blowing. A capricious wind rushing through a narrow valley, ruffling the fur of beautiful deer bent over to drink from a clear stream. But it wasn’t the sound of wind. It was someone’s breathing, amplified by the phone.
“Hello,” Tengo repeated. Was it a prank call? Or perhaps the connection was bad.
“Hello,” the person on the other end said. A woman’s voice he had heard before. It wasn’t Fuka-Eri. Nor was it his older girlfriend.
“Hello,” Tengo said. “Kawana here.”
“Tengo,” the person said. They were finally on the same page, though he still didn’t know who it was.
“Who’s calling?”
“Kumi Adachi,” the woman said.
“Oh, hi,” Tengo
“Were you asleep?”
“Yes,” Tengo said. “How about you?”
This was a pointless question. People who are sleeping can’t make phone calls. Why did I say such a stupid thing? he wondered. It must be the frozen lettuce in my head.
“I’m on duty now,” she said. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Kawana just passed away.”
“Mr. Kawana just passed away,” Tengo repeated, not comprehending. Was someone telling him he himself had just died?
“Your father just breathed his last breath,” Kumi said, rephrasing.
Tengo pointlessly switched the receiver from his right hand to his left. “Breathed his last breath,” he repeated.
“I was dozing in the nurses’ lounge when the bell rang, just after one. It was the bell for your father’s room. He has been in a coma for so long, and he couldn’t ring the bell by himself, so I thought it was odd, and went to check it out. When I got there his breathing had stopped, as had his heart. I woke up the on-call doctor and we tried to revive him, but couldn’t.”
“Are you saying my father pressed the call button?”
“Probably. There was no one else who could have.”
“What was the cause of death?” Tengo asked.
“I really can’t say, though he didn’t seem to have suffered. His face looked very peaceful. It was like—a windless day at the end of autumn, when a single leaf falls from a tree. But maybe that’s not a good way to put it.”
“No, that’s okay,” Tengo said. “That’s a good way of putting it.”
“Tengo, can you get here today?”