Mitsuyo couldn't get in an answer to this flurry of questions. "Calm down, okay?" she managed to say.

"What do you mean, calm down? calm down? Do you have any idea how panicked I've been? They said you've been taken away by a murderer. Please-tell me you're all right! Is that guy with you?" Do you have any idea how panicked I've been? They said you've been taken away by a murderer. Please-tell me you're all right! Is that guy with you?"

"No, I'm alone right now."

"Good. But you have to run away. Right this instant! Where are you? I'll call the police!"

"Take it easy, all right?"

Tamayo sounded as if she really was going to call the police at any minute. That made sense, Mitsuyo thought. Ever since the night that Yuichi half dragged her away in his car, after she'd told Tamayo not to worry, they had exchanged a few e-mails, but she never answered Tamayo's questions about what was going on. They'd kept this up until her cell-phone battery died.

"Are you really alone?" Tamayo asked again. "If you really are, then I want you to say Call the police right away." Call the police right away."

"What're you talking about?"

"If that murderer isn't with you, say it."

Tamayo was serious, so Mitsuyo gave in and repeated the line. "The guy I'm with," she added. "He really isn't an evil person, you know."

From the other end of the line, she heard a disgusted sigh.

According to Tamayo, detectives had been staking out their parents' house. The police were convinced that Yuichi had forced Mitsuyo to go with him, and after the New Year's TV programs ended and regular programming started up again, the talk shows began showing scenes of Mitsuyo and Tamayo's apartment building, though they blurred out the name, and they didn't give the sisters' names or show their photos. The investigation was progressing better than they'd expected.

As she listened to Tamayo, Mitsuyo thought of Yuichi, back on the logging road. I'm fine going to the convenience store myself, she'd told him, asking him to stay back in the shack, but Yuichi was worried about her going alone and he had accompanied her down the hill, where he was hiding now in the bushes. The snow must be piling up in those bushes, too, she thought.

"But he really didn't force you to go with him, did he?" Tamayo asked.

"No, he didn't," Mitsuyo answered firmly.

"So what are you planning to do? How can you stay with a person like that?"

Mitsuyo had no idea how to respond. Tamayo broke the silence and said, tearfully, "My God, of all people in the world, why did you have to choose a murderer?"

"Tamayo?"

The crow outside had flown off somewhere, its footprints filling with newly fallen snow.

"I did something terrible, didn't I...." Mitsuyo said.

On the other end of the line Mitsuyo could hear her sister gulp. "If you know that," Tamayo said, "then you'd better-"

"But this is the first time in my life I've felt this way. I want to be with him, even if it's just one more day."

"You want to be with him? That's a little self-centered, don't you think?"

"Huh?" Mitsuyo clutched the receiver tighter.

"I hope you're not telling me you want to run away with this guy. No matter how much you love him, you can't tie him down with the way you feel. It'll be painful, but if you really love him you have to take him in to the police. The more you two run away, the more guilty he'll be."

Before she realized it, Mitsuyo pressed the hook with her numb finger. All she heard now was an inorganic whoosh of the dial tone. Tamayo hadn't told her anything she didn't already know. She hadn't expected her sister to understand, but the conversation had only reinforced what she expected-that no one else was on their side.

It had stopped snowing when she left the phone booth.

Leaving footprints behind in the light dusting of snow, she headed for the convenience store across the street. She'd already bought their food, but she'd seen a 480 pair of gloves and she wanted to go back and buy them for Yuichi.

You can't tie him down with the way you feel.

Tamayo's words, and her own footprints, followed her.

The parking lot of the convenience store was empty except for one lone car, its engine running. The exhaust from the tailpipes was as white as cotton. Normally she would have noticed it right away, but perhaps because she'd been unsettled by Tamayo's words, or perhaps because the car blended into the snow, she didn't see right away that it was a patrol car. The moment she did, her legs went weak, and she couldn't move.

The heat inside the store clouded the windows, and she couldn't see inside. Still, she could barely make out a figure at the register that looked like a policeman.

He's coming out. The policeman's coming out.

She tried as hard as she could to walk away, but her legs wouldn't move. As the automatic doors slid open, she finally was able to walk. There was still some distance between her and the policeman. She was just about to glance back when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"Excuse me," a man's voice said, close by.

She turned and found herself face to face with a young patrolman. His hat was lightly covered with snow. His nose was red in the cold, his breath forming a cloud that almost hid his face.

"Is something wrong?" the patrolman asked.

He smiled at her. He seemed to have been watching Mitsuyo from behind and saw how she had stood there, stock-still, on the road.

"No ..."

She turned her face away and strode off. At that instant the patrolman's eyebrows, stiff in the cold, twitched.

"Hold on a minute. You're Miss Magome, aren't you?"

Mitsuyo, about to break into a run, felt these words behind her. A truck drove past. The ruts in the snowy road led straight to where Yuichi was waiting for her on the logging road.

Yuichi... Mitsuyo called out silently.

The ruts in the snowy road led to a narrow alley. The sunlight and shade cut the road neatly in two, with only the snow on the sunny half dazzling in the light.

Fusae bent over and walked straight ahead, so as to stay within the space between the ruts. Once out of the alley there was the pier, and past that the bus stop. She'd checked the bus schedule. Now if the bus would only come on time.

"Do you have a comment for us?"

"How do you feel now? Any feelings for the victim's family?"

"Yuichi really hasn't gotten in touch with you?"

"Do you know the girl he ran away with?"

Fusae stared at her feet, avoiding the cameras and reporters surrounding her. The spot in the snow where she was about to step next had been trampled down, leaving behind a dark footprint.

There'd been only a scattering of reporters up till now, but this morning they suddenly multiplied. Last night she'd talked to Norio on the phone, and he'd said they'd finally released Yuichi's photo. Right after talking with him, the phone rang again. She was sure it was Norio, but it was yet another threatening call from the health-food people. "Listen, old woman, you haven't transferred the money to us yet!" the voice on the other end growled.

Fusae hung up immediately, but the phone rang every fifteen minutes until after midnight. Fusae put the futon over her head to block out the sound. More than anything, she felt frustrated at her own fear spilling over into tears.

That morning when she turned on the TV, the first thing she saw was a talk show reporting on the murder. They didn't show Yuichi's photo, but rather a graphic of Mitsuse Pass straddling the Saga and Fukuoka prefecture border, and the highway in both directions. Symbols indicated the murdered girl's apartment in Hakata, the apartment on the outskirts of Saga City where Yuichi's girl lived, and Yuichi's home here in Nagasaki. One more symbol showed where Yuichi's car had been abandoned, in Arita, and where a witness had seen them in a hotel.

The report said it wasn't clear yet whether Yuichi had forced the girl to go with him, or whether she'd gone along voluntarily. According to the employee of the hotel who had spotted them, "the girl seemed to be pulling him by the hand," to which an ill-tempered commentator added disgustedly: "If they're running away together, the guy's an idiot, and so is she. What I mean is this is the kind of girl who latches on to guys like that. It's disgusting."

Surrounded by reporters and cameras, Fusae finally made it to the bus stop. The microphones thrust at her occasionally brushed against her ears.

Even at the bus stop, the barrage of questions didn't let up. Fusae didn't say a word, which led one irritated reporter to shout, "Does your silence mean that you admit it's true?" trying to force her into making a comment.

Luckily, there was no one else at the bus stop, but along the way, there were local housewives watching Fusae and the reporters, looks of pity on their faces. The bus finally arrived and Fusae, mumbling an apology, stepped forward. The reporters made room for her, though some clucked their tongues in disapproval. She grabbed the handrail and was climbing in when several reporters tried to get on as well. Five or six passengers were already aboard, all of them staring in amazement at the crowd at what was normally a deserted bus stop in a little fishing village.

Fusae hunched over and sat down in the seat behind the driver. The reporters were all scrambling, vying to get aboard. Fusae sat there, staring at her shoes, their tips covered in mud and snow.

"Just a second here. Who do you think you are?" the bus driver growled, his voice booming over his microphone. "You can't do interviews in the bus. You have to get permission!" The reporters all froze.

"It's dangerous. You'd better all get out!" the driver shouted. He looked around to shove the reporters back.

"Yelling at an old lady isn't going to help anything," the driver added, to everyone. Fusae recognized his face in the rearview mirror. This was usually an unfriendly driver, a bit erratic in his driving, the one driver along this route she always hoped to avoid.

"Watch out now, I'm shutting the door!" The driver forced the door closed and the bus slowly pulled away.

Fusae looked back down at her shoes. It wasn't until they reached the next bus stop that she realized she'd been crying, thankful to the driver for his kindness.

The bus left the road along the sea and headed into the city. Fusae felt as if everyone was staring at her and couldn't bring herself to look up, but as new passengers boarded at each stop, the atmosphere inside the bus gradually changed. As they reached Katsuji's hospital, Fusae pressed the button next to the window. "We'll be stopping at the next stop," said the driver curtly.

The bus slowed down. Fusae waited until it came to a complete stop before she grabbed hold of the railing and stood up. She wanted to thank the driver but didn't have the courage, and headed toward the exit at the back.

The door hissed open. No one else was getting off. She glanced toward the driver and was stepping down when he suddenly said, "It's not your fault. You hang in there now, y'hear?"

A stir ran through the bus for a moment after the driver's words echoed through the sound system. Fusae didn't know how to react. The passengers turned to look at her, standing on the steps, and she fled. She turned around, but the door closed and the bus just drove away.

It had all happened so quickly. Left behind, alone at the stop, Fusae could only stare blankly at the receding bus.

You hang in there now, y'hear?

The words echoed again in her mind, and she hastily bowed in the direction of the bus.

It's not your fault.

She repeated the driver's words to herself. Behind her was the hospital and going inside meant taking care of her ill-tempered husband, then back home to the crowd of reporters outside, and a night spent trembling in fear at more threatening phone calls.

"You hang in there now, y'hear?" she murmured again.

Running away won't help anything, she thought. And no help's on the way, no matter how much I wait. It's no different from when they threw those rationed potatoes and I had to scramble around to pick them up. I need to be strong. I'm not going to let them make fun of me anymore. Be strong. Nobody's going to make fun of me anymore. No way. No way am I going to let that happen And no help's on the way, no matter how much I wait. It's no different from when they threw those rationed potatoes and I had to scramble around to pick them up. I need to be strong. I'm not going to let them make fun of me anymore. Be strong. Nobody's going to make fun of me anymore. No way. No way am I going to let that happen.

When Yoshio awoke, he was on a makeshift bed in a hospital. He must have lost consciousness, but his mind was clear now. All he felt was pain.

Yoshio looked around him. His bed was in a hallway, not a room. He tried to sit up, but a man's arm shot out from the bench beside him and rested on his chest. "You better lie down for a while," the man said, but Yoshio pushed back and sat up. A nurse was scurrying away down the long hallway.

"You have a mild concussion.... They're going to put you in a ward soon," the young man beside him said uneasily, glancing back and forth between Yoshio and the retreating nurse. This was the young man who'd helped him up after he'd hit his head, Yoshio recalled, and he was about to thank him, when another memory came and he was silent for a moment.

"You're a friend of Keigo Masuo, aren't you?" he said as he lowered himself from the makeshift bed. The young man's face stiffened and he asked, more hesitantly, "What sort of ... relationship do you have with Keigo?"

Yoshio looked straight at him. The young man was tall and lanky, his eyes somehow lifeless. Trying to avoid Yoshio's wordless stare, the young man said, bowing his head, "My name's Koki Tsuruta. I know Keigo from school."

"If you're his classmate, you must know where he is now, right?" Yoshio asked. He knew the boy wouldn't answer him. He got up and set off toward the elevators.

"Wait up!" Koki's voice followed him from behind. "Are you ... that girl's ..."

Yoshio halted and turned to face Koki. He realized his jacket was lighter than before and he reached in his pocket. The wrench was gone.

"Is this what you're looking for?" Koki pulled the wrench out of his yellow backpack.

"You saw what happened, didn't you? The guy kicked me, too, and made me lose consciousness. I can't just go back to Kurume like this. I couldn't stand it. But I don't expect you understand how I feel."

Yoshio reached out and grabbed for the wrench from Koki. Koki hesitated for a moment. "All right," he said. "But don't try anything stupid, okay?" And he meekly handed over the wrench.

As I was taking Yoshino Ishibashi's father over to the cafe where Keigo always hung out, I called Keigo on his cell phone. When he answered, he sounded really worked up. "Koki, is that you?" he said. "Where are you? Get over here, okay?" He went on: "Something crazy just happened to me. Guess who I ran into? The father of that girl who died on Mitsuse Pass! Y'all killed mah daughter! Y'all killed mah daughter! the guy said and tried to grab me. God, it was wild! I gave him a good kick." Keigo's voice was loud, and I could picture his entourage around him, egging him on. the guy said and tried to grab me. God, it was wild! I gave him a good kick." Keigo's voice was loud, and I could picture his entourage around him, egging him on.

After we left the hospital, Yoshino's father walked beside me. I hung up the phone and said, "He's in the usual place," and he said "Is that right?" and nodded.

At the time, I didn't understand why I was taking him to meet Keigo. I can't express it well, but when I saw Mr. Ishibashi in the snow, clinging to Keigo's legs, it was like I was smelling the scent of a human being for the first time in my life. I'd never noticed the scent of humans before, but for some reason Mr. Ishibashi's scent came through clearly. Compared to Keigo, he looked so small, so small it made me sad.

I spend most of my time holed up in my room, watching movies, so I've seen tons of people crying, being sad, angry, and full of hatred. But this was the first time I realized that people's emotions have a distinct odor. I wish I could explain it better, but when I saw Mr. Ishibashi clinging to Keigo's legs, it was like, I don't know, like I could really feel this whole crime for the first time....

The feeling of Keigo's foot as it kicked Yoshino out of his car, the cold of the ground as she touched it. The sky Yoshino saw as the criminal strangled her, the feeling of her throat under his hands as he wrung her neck. I could suddenly feel it all, as clear as day.

A person disappearing from this world isn't like the top stone of a pyramid disappearing. It's more like one of the foundation stones at the base. You know what I mean?

Truthfully, I don't think Mr. Ishibashi could ever hurt Keigo. Not then, when they confronted each other, or later on in their lives. Keigo will always come out on top. Still, I wanted Mr. Ishibashi to stand up to him and say something. I didn't want him to silently lose out.

As she walked from the bus stop in front of the hospital, Fusae took her worn purse from the bag hanging heavily on her wrist. Inside was a sheaf of supermarket receipts, four-thousand-yen bills, a large five-hundred-yen coin all by itself, and a handful of other coins.

The only snow left along the seaside road was underneath the trees lining it. On the road itself the snow had melted and the cars splashed muddy water.

Fusae put her purse back in her bag. The bus driver's words were helping her along, but something else had burst within her. She had finally shaken free of the fear that had controlled her these past few weeks. She left the seaside road and headed toward the back road that led to Dutch Slope.

She was trying to recall the time when Katsuji's second cousin Goro visited with his family, from Okayama, on a vacation to Nagasaki. They weren't all that close to them, but Katsuji was enthusiastic about it and showed them all over town, then took them to a Chinese place for dinner. Yuichi must have been in elementary school back then, so it would have to be twenty years ago.