Sarah Russell

“That was the first time in my life that anyone had rejected me so completely.' Tsukuru said. 'And the ones who did it were the people I trusted the most, my four best friends in the world. I was so close to them that they had been like an extension of my own body. Searching for the reason, or correcting a misunderstanding, was beyond me. I was simply, and utterly, in shock. So much so that I thought I might never recover. It felt like something inside me snapped.'

The bartender brought over the glass of wine and replenished the bowl of nuts. Once he'd left, Sara turned to Tsukuru.

'I've never experienced that myself, but I think I can imagine how stunned you must have been. I understand that you couldn't recover from it quickly. But still, after time had passed and the shock had worn off, wasn't there something you could have done? I mean, it was so unfair. Why didn't you challenge it? I don't see how you could stand it.'

Tsukuru shook his head slightly. 'The next morning I made up some excuse to tell my family and took the bullet train back to Tokyo. I couldn't stand being in Nagoya for one more day. All I could think of was getting away from there.'

'If it had been me, I would have stayed there and not left until I got to the bottom of it,' Sara said.

'I wasn't strong enough for that.' Tsukuru said.

'You didn't want to find out the truth?'

Tsukuru stared at his hands on the tabletop, careful choosing his words. 'I think I was afraid of pursuing it, of whatever facts might come of light. Of actually coming face-to-face with them. Whatever the truth was, I didn't think it would save me. I'm not sure why, but I was certain of it.'

'And you're certain of it now?'

'I don't know,' Tsukuru said. 'But I was then.'

'So you went back to Tokyo, stayed holed up in your apartment, closed your eyes, and covered up your ears.'

'You could say that, yes.”
― Haruki Murakami, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage