– Did you notice anything unusual at the scene? Any strange smell or sound-or a light?

[Thinks about it for a while.] No, as I already said, it was very quiet and peaceful. No unusual sounds or light or smells. The only thing unusual was that every single pupil in my class had collapsed and was lying there unconscious. I felt utterly alone, like I was the last person alive on Earth. I can't describe that feeling of total loneliness. I just wanted to disappear into thin air and not think about anything.

Of course I couldn't do that-I had my duty as a teacher. I pulled myself together and raced down the slope as fast as my legs would carry me, to get help at the school.

It's nearly dawn when I wake up. I draw the curtain back and take a look. It must have just stopped raining, since everything is still wet and drippy. Clouds to the east are sharply etched against the sky, each one framed by light. The sky looks ominous one minute, inviting the next. It all depends on the angle.

The bus plows down the highway at a set speed, the tires humming along, never getting any louder or softer. Same with the engine, its monotonous sound like a mortar smoothly grinding down time and the consciousness of the people on board. The other passengers are all sunk back in their seats, asleep, their curtains drawn tight. The driver and I are the only ones awake. We're being carried, efficiently and numbly, toward our destination.

Feeling thirsty, I take a bottle of mineral water from the pocket of my backpack and drink some of the lukewarm water. From the same pocket I pull out a box of soda crackers and munch a few, enjoying that familiar dry taste. According to my watch it's 4:32. I check the date and day of the week, just to be on the safe side. Thirteen hours since I left home. Time hasn't leaped ahead more than it should or done an unexpected about-face. It's still my birthday, still the first day of my brand-new life. I shut my eyes, open them again, again checking the time and date on my watch. Then I switch on the reading light, take out a paperback book, and start reading.

Just after five, without warning, the bus pulls off the highway and comes to a stop in a corner of a roadside rest area. The front door of the bus opens with an airy hiss, lights blink on inside, and the bus driver makes a brief announcement. "Good morning, everybody. Hope you had a good rest. We're on schedule and should arrive in our final stop at Takamatsu Station in about an hour. But we're stopping here for a twenty-minute break. We'll be leaving again at five-thirty, so please be sure to be back on board by then."

The announcement wakes up most of the passengers, and they silently struggle to their feet, yawning as they stumble out of the bus. This is where people make themselves presentable before arriving in Takamatsu. I get off too, take a couple of deep breaths, and do some simple stretching exercises in the fresh morning air. I walk over to the men's room and splash some water on my face. I'm wondering where the heck we are. I go outside and look around. Nothing special, just the typical roadside scenery you find next to a highway. Maybe I'm just imagining things, but the shape of the hills and the color of the trees seem different from those back in Tokyo.

I'm inside the cafeteria sipping a free cup of hot tea when this young girl comes over and plunks herself down on the plastic seat next to me. In her right hand she has a paper cup of hot coffee she bought from a vending machine, the steam rising up from it, and in her left hand she's holding a small container with sandwiches inside-another bit of vending-machine gourmet fare, by the looks of it.

She's kind of funny looking. Her face is out of balance-broad forehead, button nose, freckled cheeks, and pointy ears. A slammed-together, rough sort of face you can't ignore. Still, the whole package isn't so bad. For all I know maybe she's not so wild about her own looks, but she seems comfortable with who she is, and that's the important thing. There's something childish about her that has a calming effect, at least on me. She isn't very tall, but has good-looking legs and a nice bust for such a slim body.

Her thin metal earrings sparkle like duralumin. She wears her dark brown, almost reddish dyed hair down to her shoulders, and has on a long-sleeved crewneck shirt with wide stripes. A small leather backpack hangs from one shoulder, and a light sweater's tied around her neck. A cream-colored miniskirt completes her outfit, with no stockings. She's evidently washed her face, since a few strands of hair, like the thin roots of a plant, are plastered to her broad forehead. Strangely enough, those loose strands of hair draw me to her.

"You were on the bus, weren't you?" she asks me, her voice a little husky.

"Yeah, that's right."

She frowns as she takes a sip of the coffee. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen," I lie.

"So you're in high school."

I nod.

"Where're you headed?"

"Takamatsu."

"Same with me," she says. "Are you visiting, or do you live there?"

"Visiting," I reply.

"Me too. I have a friend there. A girlfriend of mine. How about you?"

"Relatives."

I see, her nod says. No more questions. "I've got a younger brother the same age as you," she suddenly tells me, as if she'd just remembered. "Things happened, and we haven't seen each other for a long time… You know something? You look a lot like that guy. Anybody ever tell you that?"

"What guy?"

"You know, the guy who sings in that band! As soon as I saw you in the bus I thought you looked like him, but I just can't come up with his name. I must have busted a hole in my brain trying to remember. That happens sometimes, right? It's on the tip of your tongue, but you just can't think of it. Hasn't anybody said that to you before-that you remind them of somebody?"

I shake my head. Nobody's ever said that to me. She's still staring at me, eyes narrowed intently. "What kind of person do you mean?" I ask.

"A TV guy."

"A guy who's on TV?"

"Right," she says, picking up her ham sandwich and taking an uninspired bite, washing it down with a sip of coffee. "A guy who sings in some band. Darn-I can't think of the band's name, either. This tall guy who has a Kansai accent. You don't have any idea who I mean?"

"Sorry, I don't watch TV."

The girl frowns and gives me a hard look. "You don't watch at all?"

I shake my head silently. Wait a sec-should I nod or shake my head here? I go with the nod.

"Not very talkative, are you? One line at a time seems your style. Are you always so quiet?"

I blush. I'm sort of a quiet type to begin with, but part of the reason I don't want to say much is that my voice hasn't changed completely. Most of the time I've got kind of a low voice, but all of a sudden it turns on me and lets out a squeak. So I try to keep whatever I say short and sweet.

"Anyway," she goes on, "what I'm trying to say is you look a lot like that singer with the Kansai accent. Not that you have a Kansai accent or anything. It's just-I don't know, there's something about you that's a lot like him. He seems like a real nice guy, that's all."

Her smile steps offstage for a moment, then does an encore, all while I'm dealing with my blushing face. "You'd resemble him even more if you changed your hair," she says. "Let it grow out a little, use some gel to make it flip up a bit. I'd love to give it a try. You'd definitely look good like that. Actually, I'm a hairdresser."

I nod and sip my tea. The cafeteria is dead silent. None of the usual background music, nobody else talking besides the two of us.

"Maybe you don't like talking?" she says, resting her head in one hand and giving me a serious look.