omame recognized the spot as they got out of the taxi. She stood at the intersection looking around and found the gloomy storage area, surrounded by a metal panel fence, down below the expressway. Leading Tengo by the hand, she crossed at the crosswalk and headed toward it.

She couldn’t remember which of the metal panels had the loose bolts, but after patiently testing each one, she found a space that a person could manage to slip through. Aomame bent down and, careful to keep her clothes from getting snagged, slipped inside. Tengo hunched down as much as his large body would allow, and followed behind her. Inside the storage area, everything was exactly as it had been in April, when Aomame had last seen it. Discarded, faded bags of cement, rusty metal pipes, weary weeds, scattered old wastepaper, splotches of hardened white pigeon excrement here and there. In eight months, nothing had changed. During that time, perhaps no one had ever set foot in here. It was like a sandbar on a main highway in the middle of the city—a completely abandoned, forgotten little spot.

“Is this the place?” Tengo asked, looking around.

Aomame nodded. “If there’s no exit here, then we’re not going anywhere.”

In the darkness Aomame searched for the emergency stairway she had climbed down, the narrow stairs linking the expressway and the ground below. The stairway has to be here, she told herself. I have to believe it.

And she found it. It was actually closer to a ladder than a stairway. It was shabbier and more rickety than she remembered. She was amazed that she had managed to clamber down it before. At any rate, though, here it was. All they needed to do now was climb up, step by step, instead of down. She took off her Charles Jourdan high heels, stuffed them into her bag, and slung the bag across her shoulders. She stepped onto the first rung of the ladder in her stocking feet.

“Follow me,” Aomame said, turning around to Tengo.

“Maybe I should go first?” Tengo asked worriedly.

“No, I’ll go first.” This was the path she had come down, and she would have to be the first to climb back up.

The stairway was colder than when she had come down it. Her hands got so numb that she thought she would lose all feeling. The wind whipped between the support columns under the expressway. It was much more sharp and piercing than it had been before. The stairway was aloof and uninviting. It promised her nothing.

At the beginning of September when she had searched for the stairway on the expressway, it had vanished. The route had been blocked. Yet now the route from the storage area, going up, was still here, just as she had predicted. She had had a feeling that if she started from this direction, she would find it. If this little one inside me, she thought, has any special powers, then it will surely protect me and show me the right way to go.

The stairway existed, but whether it really connected up to the expressway, she didn’t know. It might be blocked halfway, a dead end. In this world, anything could happen. The only thing to do was to climb up with her own hands and feet and find out what was there—and what was not.

She cautiously climbed up one step after another. She looked down and saw Tengo right behind her. A fierce wind howled, making her spring coat flutter. It was a cutting wind. The hem of her short skirt had crept up to her thighs. The wind had made a mess of her hair, plastering it against her face and blocking her vision, so much so that she found it hard to breathe. Aomame regretted not having tied her hair back. 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, 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.”

That is, if the stairs aren’t blocked, she thought, but she kept this thought to herself.

“You were planning to climb these stairs from the beginning?” Tengo asked.

“Right. If I could locate them.”

“And you went to the trouble of dressing like that. Tight skirt, high heels. Not exactly the right outfit to wear to climb steep stairs.”

Aomame smiled again. “I had to wear these clothes. Someday I’ll explain it to you.”

“You have beautiful legs,” Tengo said.

“You like them?”

“You bet.”

“Thanks,” Aomame said. On the narrow catwalk she reached up and gently kissed his ear. A crumpled, cauliflower-like ear. His ear was freezing cold.

She turned back, proceeded along the catwalk, and began climbing up the narrow, steep stairs. Her feet were freezing, her fingertips numb. She was careful not to slip. She continued up the stairs, brushing away her hair as the wind whipped by. The freezing wind brought tears to her eyes. She held on tightly to the handrail so she could keep her balance in the swirling wind, and as she took one cautious step after another, she thought of Tengo right behind her. Of his large hand, and his freezing-cold cauliflower ear. Of the little one sleeping inside her. Of the black automatic pistol inside her shoulder bag. And the seven 9mm cartridges in the clip.

We have to get out of this world. To do that I have to believe, from the bottom of my heart, that these stairs will lead to the expressway. I believe, she told herself. She suddenly remembered something Leader had said on the stormy night, before he died. Lyrics to a song. She could recall them all, even now.

No matter what happens, no matter what I have to do, I have to make it real, not make-believe. No—the two of us, Tengo and I, have to do that. We have to make it real. We have to put our strength together, every last ounce of strength we possess. For our sake, and for the sake of this little one.

Aomame stopped on a landing halfway up and turned around. Tengo was still there. She reached out her hand, and Tengo took it. She felt the same warmth as before, and it gave her a certain strength. She reached up again and brought her mouth close to his ear.

“You know, once I almost gave up my life for you,” she said. “Just a little more and I would have died. A couple of millimeters more. Do you believe me?”

“I do,” Tengo said.

“Will you tell me you believe it from the bottom of your heart?”

“I believe it from the bottom of my heart,” Tengo replied.

Aomame nodded, and let go of his hand. She faced forward and began climbing the stairs again.

A few minutes later, she reached the top and came out onto Metropolitan Expressway No. 3. The stairway hadn’t been blocked. Before she scrambled over the metal fence, she reached up with the back of her hand and wiped away the cold tears in her eyes.

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.

“I don’t know,” Aomame said.

She really had no idea what they should do, or where they should go. Once they had climbed the emergency stairway, her role was over. She was too drained to think, or make a judgment call. There wasn’t a drop left in her tank. She could only let some other power take over.

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.

The prayer flowed out from her like a conditioned reflex. She didn’t have to think about it. Each individual word had no meaning. The phrases were nothing more than sounds to her now, a list of signs and nothing more. Still, as she mechanically recited the prayer, a strange feeling came over her, something you might even call reverence. Something deep inside her struck a chord in her heart. Despite all that happened, I never lost myself, she thought. Thank goodness I can be here, as me. Wherever here is.

May Thy kingdom come, Aomame intoned once more, like she had done in elementary school before lunch, so many years ago. Whatever that might mean, she wished it. May Thy kingdom come.

Tengo stroked her hair, as if combing it.

Ten minutes later Tengo was able to flag down a passing taxi. At first they couldn’t believe their eyes. A single taxi, absent of any passengers, was slowly making its way along the traffic jam on the expressway. Tengo raised a skeptical hand, the back door swung open right away, and they climbed aboard, quickly, hurriedly, afraid that this phantom would vanish. The young driver, wearing glasses, turned to face them.

“Because of the traffic jam I would like to get off at the Ikejiri exit coming up, if that’s all right with you?” the driver asked. He had a rather high-pitched voice for a man, but it wasn’t irritating.

“That would be fine,” Aomame replied.

“It’s actually against the law to pick up passengers on the expressway.”

“Which law would that be?” Aomame asked. Her face, reflected in the rearview mirror, wore a slight frown.

The driver couldn’t come up with the name of the law that prohibits picking up passengers on highways. Plus, Aomame’s face in the rearview mirror was starting to frighten him a little.

“Well, whatever,” the driver said, abandoning the topic. “Anyway, where would you like to go?”

“You can let us off near Shibuya Station,” Aomame said.

“I haven’t set the meter,” the driver said. “I’ll just charge you for the distance after we get off the expressway.”

“Why were you on the expressway with no passenger?” Tengo asked him.

“It’s sort of a long story,” the driver said, his voice etched with fatigue. “Would you like to hear it?”

“I would,” Aomame said. Long and boring was fine by her. She wanted to hear people’s stories in this new world. There might be new secrets there, new hints.

“I picked up a fare, a middle-aged man, near Kinuta Park, and he asked me to take him near Aoyama Gakuin University. He wanted me to take the expressway since there would be too much traffic around Shibuya. At this point, there wasn’t any bulletin about a traffic jam on the expressway. Traffic was supposed to be moving along just fine. So I did what he asked and got on the expressway at Yoga. But then there was an accident around Tani, apparently, and you can see the result. Once we were stuck, we couldn’t even get to the Ikejiri exit to get off. Meanwhile, the passenger spied a friend of his. Around Komazawa, when we weren’t moving an inch, there was a silver Mercedes coupe next to us that just happened to be driven by a woman who was a friend of his. They rolled down the windows and chatted and she wound up inviting him to ride with her. The man apologized and asked if he could pay up and go over to her car. Letting a passenger out in the middle of a highway is unheard of, but since we actually weren’t moving, I couldn’t say no. So the man got into the Mercedes. He felt bad about it, so he added a little extra to what he paid to sweeten the deal. But still it was annoying. I mean, I couldn’t move at all. Anyway, bit by bit I made my way here, nearly to the Ikejiri exit. And then I saw you raising your hand. Pretty hard to believe, don’t you think?”

“I can believe it,” Aomame said concisely.

That night the two of them stayed in a high-rise hotel in Akasaka. They turned the lights out, undressed, got into bed, and held each other. There was a lot they needed to talk about, but that could wait till morning. They had other priorities. Without a word passing between them, they leisurely explored each other’s bodies in the dark. With their fingers and palms, one by one, they checked where everything was, what they were shaped like. They felt excited, like little children on a treasure hunt in a secret room. Once they found each part, they kissed it with a seal of approval.

After they had leisurely finished this process, Aomame held Tengo’s hard penis in her hand—just like years before, when she had held his hand in the classroom after school. It felt harder than anything she had ever known, miraculously hard. Aomame spread her legs, moved close, and slowly inserted him inside of her. Straight in, deep inside. She closed her eyes in the darkness and gulped a deep and dark intake of breath. Then, ever so slowly, she exhaled. Tengo felt her hot breath on his chest.

“I’ve always imagined being held by you like this,” Aomame said, whispering in his ear as she stopped moving.

“Having sex with me?”

“Yes.”

“Since you were ten you’ve been imagining this?” Tengo asked.

Aomame laughed. “No, that came when I was a little older.”

“I’ve been imagining the same thing.”

“Being inside me?”

“That’s right,” Tengo said.

“Is it like you imagined?”

“I still can’t believe it’s real,” Tengo admitted. “I feel like I’m imagining things.”

“But this is real.”

“It feels too good to be real.”

In the darkness Aomame smiled. And she kissed him. They explored each other’s tongues.

“My breasts are kind of small, don’t you think?” Aomame said.

“They’re just right,” Tengo said, cupping them.

“You really think so?”

“Of course,” he said. “If they were any bigger then it wouldn’t be you.”

“Thank you,” Aomame said. “They’re not just small,” she added, “but the right and left are also different sizes.”

“They’re fine the way they are,” Tengo said. “The right one’s the right one, the left one’s the left. No need to change a thing.”

Aomame pressed an ear against his chest. “I’ve been lonely for so long. And I’ve been hurt so deeply. If only I could have met you again a long time ago, then I wouldn’t have had to take all these detours to get here.”

Tengo shook his head. “I don’t think so. This way is just fine. This is exactly the right time. For both of us.”

Aomame started to cry. The tears she had been holding back spilled down her cheeks and there was nothing she could do to stop them. Large teardrops fell audibly onto the sheets like rain. With Tengo buried deep inside her, she trembled slightly as she went on crying. Tengo put his arms around her and held her. He would be holding her close from now on, a thought that made him happier than he could imagine.

“We needed that much time,” Tengo said, “to understand how lonely we really were.”

“Start moving,” Aomame breathed in his ear. “Take your time, and do it slowly.”

Tengo did as he was told. He began pumping slowly. Breathing quietly, listening to his heartbeat. Aomame clung to him like she was drowning. She gave up crying, gave up thinking, distanced herself from the past, from the future, and became one with his movements.

Near dawn they slipped on hotel bathrobes, stood next to the large window, and sipped the red wine they had ordered from room service. Aomame took just a token sip. They didn’t need to sleep yet. From their room on the seventeenth floor they could enjoy watching the moon to their hearts’ content. The clouds had drifted away, and nothing impeded their view. The dawn moon had moved quite a distance, though it still hovered just above the city skyline. The moon was an ashy white, and looked about ready to fall to earth, its job complete.

At the front desk Aomame had asked for a room high up with a view of the moon, even if it cost more. “That’s the most important thing—having a nice view of the moon,” she said.

The clerk was kind to this young couple who had shown up without a reservation. It also helped that the hotel wasn’t busy. She felt kindly toward the couple from the moment she set eyes on them. She had the bellboy go up to look at the room to make sure it had the view they wanted, and only then handed Aomame the key to the junior suite. She gave them a special discount, too.

“Is it a full moon or something tonight?” the woman clerk asked Aomame, her interest aroused. Over the years she had heard every kind of demand, hope, and desire from guests you could imagine. But this was a first, having guests who were looking for a room with a good view of the moon.

“No,” Aomame replied. “The moon’s past full. It’s about two-thirds full. But that doesn’t matter. As long as we can see it.”

“You enjoy watching the moon, then?”

“It’s important to us,” Aomame smiled. “More important than you can know.”

Even as dawn approached, the number of moons didn’t increase. It was just the same old familiar moon. The one and only satellite that has faithfully circled the earth, at the same speed, from before human memory. As she stared at the moon, Aomame softly touched her abdomen, checking one more time that the little one was there, inside her. She could swear her belly had grown from the night before.

I still don’t know what sort of world this is, she thought. But whatever world we’re in now, I’m sure this is where I will stay. Where we will stay. This world must have its own threats, its own dangers, must be filled with its own type of riddles and contradictions. We may have to travel down many dark paths, leading who knows where. But that’s okay. It’s not a problem. I’ll just have to accept it. I’m not going anywhere. Come what may, this is where we’ll remain, in this world with one moon. The three of us—Tengo and me, and the little one.

Put a tiger in your tank, the Esso tiger said, his left profile toward them. But either side was fine. That big grin of his facing Aomame was natural and warm. I’m going to believe in that smile, she told herself. That’s what’s important here. She did her own version of the tiger’s smile. Very naturally, very gently.

She quietly stretched out a hand, and Tengo took it. The two of them stood there, side by side, as one, wordlessly watching the moon over the buildings. Until the newly risen sun shone upon it, robbing it of its nighttime brilliance. Until it was nothing more than a gray paper moon, hanging in the sky.