Aomame grimaced.

The fee collector continued. “No, I don’t want to ring the bell. If I do, all you hear is the bell ringing, that’s all. No matter who pushes the bell, it makes the same harmless little sound. Now, a knock—that has personality. You use your physical body to knock on something and there’s a flesh-and-blood emotion behind it. Of course my hand does hurt. I’m not Superman, after all. But it can’t be helped. This is my profession. And every profession, no matter high or low, deserves respect. Don’t you agree, Miss Takai?”

Knocks pounded on the door again. Twenty-seven in all, powerful knocks with a fixed pause between each one. Aomame’s hands grew sweaty as they gripped the bat.

“Miss Takai, people who receive the NHK TV signal have to pay the fee—it’s the law. There are no two ways about it. It is a rule we have to follow. So why don’t you just cheerfully pay the fee? I’m not pounding on your door because I want to, and I know you don’t want this unpleasantness to go on forever. You must be thinking, Why do I have to go through this? So just cheerfully pay up. Then you can go back to your quiet life again.”

The man’s voice echoed loudly down the hallway. This man is enjoying the sound of his own voice, Aomame thought. He’s getting a kick out of insulting people, making fun of them and abusing them. She could sense the perverse pleasure he was getting from this.

“You’re quite the stubborn lady, aren’t you, Miss Takai. I’m impressed. You’re like a shellfish at the bottom of a deep ocean, maintaining a strict silence. But I know you’re in there. You’re there, glaring at me through the door. The tension is making your underarms sweat. Do I have that right?”

Thirteen more knocks. Then he stopped. Aomame realized she was, indeed, sweating under her arms.

“All right. That’s enough for today. But I’ll be back soon. I’m starting to grow fond of this door. There are lots of doors in the world, and this one is not bad at all. It is definitely a door worth knocking on. At this rate I won’t be able to relax unless I drop by here regularly to give it a few good knocks. Good-bye, Miss Takai. I’ll be back.”

Silence reigned. The fee collector had apparently left for good, but she hadn’t heard any footsteps. Maybe he was pretending to have left and was waiting outside the door. Aomame gripped the bat even tighter and waited a couple of minutes.

“I’m still here,” the fee collector suddenly announced. “Ha! You thought I left, didn’t you? But I’m still here. I lied. Sorry about that, Miss Takai. That’s the sort of person I am.”

She heard him cough. An intentionally grating cough.

“I’ve been at this job for a long time. And over the years I’ve become able to picture the people on the other side of the door. This is the truth. Quite a few people hide behind their door and try to get away with not paying the NHK fee. I’ve been dealing with them for decades. Listen, Miss Takai.”

He knocked three times, louder than he ever had.

“Listen, Miss Takai. You’re very clever at hiding, like a flounder on the sea floor covered in sand. Mimicry, they call it. But in the end you won’t be able to escape. Someone will come and open this door. You can count on it. As a veteran NHK fee collector, I guarantee it. You can hide as cleverly as you like, but in the final analysis mimicry is deception, pure and simple. It doesn’t solve a thing. It’s true, Miss Takai. I’ll be on my way soon. Don’t worry, this time for real. But I’ll be back soon. When you hear a knock, you’ll know it’s me. Well, see you, Miss Takai. Take care!”

She couldn’t hear any footsteps this time, either. She waited five minutes, then went up to the door and listened carefully. She squinted through the peephole. No one was outside. This time the fee collector really had left, it seemed.

Aomame leaned the metal bat up against the kitchen counter. She slid the round out of the pistol’s chamber, set the safety, wrapped it back up in a pair of thick tights, and returned it to the drawer. She lay down on the sofa and closed her eyes. The man’s voice still rang in her ears.

But in the end you won’t be able to escape. Someone will come and open this door.

At least this man wasn’t from Sakigake. They would take a quieter, more indirect approach. They would never yell in an apartment hallway, insinuate things like that, putting their target on guard. That was not their MO. Aomame pictured Buzzcut and Ponytail. They would sneak up on you without making a sound. And before you knew it, they would be standing right behind you.

Aomame shook her head, and breathed quietly.

Maybe he really was an NHK fee collector. If so, it was strange that he didn’t notice the sticker that said they paid the subscription fee automatically. Aomame had checked that the sticker was pasted to the side of the door. Maybe the man was a mental patient. But the things he said had a bit too much reality to them for that. The man certainly did seem to sense my presence on the other side of the door. As if he had sniffed out my secret, or a part of it. But he did not have the power to open the door and come in. The door had to be opened from inside. And I’m not planning on opening it.

No, she thought, it’s hard to say that for sure. Someday I might open the door. If Tengo were to show up at the playground, I wouldn’t hesitate to open the door and rush outside. It doesn’t matter what might be waiting for me.

Aomame sank down into the garden chair on the balcony and gazed as usual through the cracks in the screen at the playground. A high school couple were sitting on the bench underneath the zelkova tree, discussing something, serious expressions on their faces. Two young mothers were watching their children, not yet old enough for kindergarten, playing in the sandbox. They were deep in conversation yet kept their eyes glued to their children. A typical afternoon scene in a park. Aomame stared at the top of the slide for a long time.

She brought her hand down to her abdomen, shut her eyes, and listened carefully, trying to pick up the voice. Something was definitely alive inside her. A small, living something. She knew it.

Dohta, she whispered.

Maza, something replied.

CHAPTER 9

Tengo

BEFORE THE EXIT IS BLOCKED

The four of them had yakiniku, then went to another place where they sang karaoke and polished off a bottle of whiskey. It was nearly ten p.m. when their cozy but boisterous little party broke up. After they left the bar, Tengo took Nurse Adachi back to her apartment. The other two women could catch a bus near the station, and they casually let things work out that way. Tengo and the young nurse walked down the deserted streets, side by side, for a quarter of an hour.

“Tengo, Tengo, Tengo,” she sang out. “Such a nice name. Tengo. It’s so easy to say.”

Nurse Adachi had drunk a lot, but her cheeks were normally rosy so it was hard to tell, just by looking at her face, how drunk she really was. Her words weren’t slurred and her footsteps were solid. She didn’t seem drunk. Though people had their own ways of being drunk.

“I always thought it was a weird name,” Tengo said.

“It isn’t at all. Tengo. It has a nice ring to it and it’s easy to remember. It’s a wonderful name.”

“Speaking of which, I don’t know your first name. Everybody calls you Ku.”

“That’s my nickname. My real name is Kumi. Kind of a nothing name.”

“Kumi Adachi,” Tengo said aloud. “Not bad. Compact and simple.”

“Thank you,” Kumi Adachi said. “But putting it like that makes me feel like a Honda Civic or something.”