Tengo looked around without saying a word. Finally, he said, as if impressed, “It’s Metropolitan Expressway No. 3. This is the exit out of this world, isn’t it.”

“That’s right,” Aomame replied. “It’s the entrance and the exit.”

Tengo helped her from behind as she clambered over the fence, her tight skirt riding up to her hips. Beyond the fence was a turnout just big enough for two cars. This was the third time she had been here. The large Esso billboard was right in front of her. Put a Tiger in Your Tank. The same slogan. The same tiger. She stood there in her stocking feet without a word. She inhaled the car exhaust deep into her lungs. This was the most refreshing air she could possibly imagine. I’m back, Aomame thought. We’re back.

The traffic on the expressway was bumper to bumper, just as she had left it. The Shibuya-bound traffic was barely inching along. This surprised her, and she wondered why. Whenever I come here, the traffic’s always backed up. But at this time of day it’s pretty rare for the lanes heading into the city on Expressway No. 3 to be like this. There must be an accident somewhere up ahead. The lanes going the other direction were flowing along nicely but the ones heading into the city were crushingly crowded.

Tengo climbed over the metal fence, lifting one foot up high to nimbly leap over, then came to stand beside her. They stood there together, wordlessly watching the throng of traffic, like people standing beside the Pacific Ocean for the first time in their lives, awestruck at the waves crashing on the shore.

The people in the barely moving cars stared back at them. They seemed confused, uncertain how to react. Their eyes were filled less with curiosity than suspicion. What could this young couple possibly be up to? They had suddenly popped up out of the dark and were standing in a turnout on the expressway. The woman had on a fashionable suit, but her coat was a thin spring one, and she was standing there in stocking feet, with no shoes. The man was stocky, and was wearing a well-worn leather jacket. Both of them had bags slung diagonally across their shoulders. Had their car broken down? Had they been in an accident? There was no sign of any car nearby. And they didn’t look like they were asking for help.

Aomame finally pulled herself together and took her high heels out of her bag. She tugged the hem of her skirt down, put the strap of her bag over one shoulder, and tied the belt on her coat. She licked her dry lips, straightened her hair with her fingers, took out a handkerchief, and wiped away her tears. And she once more nestled close to Tengo.

Just as they had done on that December day twenty years earlier, in a classroom after hours, they stood silently side by side, holding hands. They were the only two people in the world. They watched the leisurely flow of cars before them. But they saw nothing. What they were seeing, what they were hearing—none of it mattered. The sights around them—the sounds, the smells—had all been drained of meaning.

“So, we’re in a different world now?” Tengo managed to say.

“Most likely,” Aomame said.

“Maybe we should make sure.”

There was only one way to make sure, and they didn’t need to put it into words. Silently, Aomame raised her face and looked up at the sky. At nearly the same instant, Tengo did so too. They were searching for the moon. Considering the angle, the moon should be somewhere above the Esso billboard. But they couldn’t find it. It seemed to be hidden behind the clouds. The clouds were flowing toward the south, sedately moving along in the wind. The two of them waited—no need to rush. They had plenty of time. Enough time to recover the time they had lost. The time they shared. No need to panic. A pump in one hand, a knowing smile on his face, the Esso tiger, in profile, watched over the two of them holding hands.

Aomame was struck by a sudden thought. Something was different, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She narrowed her eyes and focused. And then it hit her. The left side of the Esso tiger’s face was toward them. But in her memory it was his right side that had faced the world. The tiger had been reversed. Her face instinctively grimaced, her heart skipped a beat or two. It felt like something inside her had changed course. But could she really say for sure? Is my memory really that accurate? Aomame wasn’t certain. She just had a feeling about it. Sometimes our memory betrays us.

Aomame kept her doubts to herself. She shut her eyes for a moment to let her breathing and heart rate get back to normal, and waited for the clouds to pass.

People continued to stare at the two of them through the car windows. What are these two looking at? And why are they clutching each other’s hand so tightly? A number of them craned their heads, trying to see what the couple was staring at, but all that was visible were white clouds and an Esso billboard. Put a Tiger in Your Tank, the billboard tiger’s profile said, facing to the left, urging those driving by to consume even more gasoline, his orange-striped tail jauntily raised to the sky.

.    .    .

The clouds finally broke and the moon came into view.

There was just one moon. That familiar, yellow, solitary moon. The same moon that silently floated over fields of pampas grass, the moon that rose—a gleaming, round saucer—over the calm surface of lakes, that tranquilly beamed down on the rooftops of fast-asleep houses. The same moon that brought the high tide to shore, that softly shone on the fur of animals and enveloped and protected travelers at night. The moon that, as a crescent, shaved slivers from the soul—or, as a new moon, silently bathed the earth in its own loneliness. That moon. The moon was fixed in the sky right above the Esso billboard, and there was no smaller, misshapen greenish moon beside it. It was hanging there, taciturn, beholden to no one. Simultaneously, the two of them looked at the same scene. Wordlessly Aomame clutched Tengo’s hand. The feeling of an internal backflow had vanished.

We’re back in 1984, Aomame told herself. This isn’t 1Q84 anymore. This is the world of 1984, the world I came from.

But is it? Could the world really go back so easily to what it was? Hadn’t Leader, just before he died, asserted that there was no pathway back to the old world?

Could this be another, altogether different place? Did we move from one world to yet another, third world? Where the Esso tiger shows us the left side of his face, not his right? Where new riddles and new rules await us?

It might well be, Aomame thought. At least at this point I can’t swear that it isn’t. But there is one thing I can say for sure. No matter how you look at it, this isn’t that world, with its two moons in the sky. And I am holding Tengo’s hand. The two of us entered a dangerous place, where logic had no purpose, and we managed to survive some terrible ordeals, found each other, and slipped away. Whether this place we’ve arrived in is the world we started out from or a whole new world, what do I have to be afraid of? If there are new trials ahead for us, we just have to overcome them, like we’ve done before. That’s all. But at least we’re no longer alone.

Believing in what she needed to believe, she relaxed, leaning back against Tengo’s large body. She pressed her ear against his chest and listened to his heartbeat, and gave herself up to his arms. Just like a pea in a pod.

“Where should we go now?” Tengo asked Aomame after some time had passed. They couldn’t stay here forever. That much was clear. But there was no shoulder on the Metropolitan Expressway. The Ikejiri exit was relatively close, but even in a traffic jam like this it was too dangerous for a pedestrian to walk through the backup of cars. They were certain, too, that holding out their thumbs to hitchhike wasn’t likely to get them any rides. They could use the emergency phone to call for help from the Japan Highway Public Corporation, but then they would have to come up with a reasonable explanation for why they were stranded. Even if they were able to make it on foot to the Ikejiri exit, the toll collector would be sure to question them. Going back down the same stairs they had climbed up was out of the question.