secret

There was no premonition before it happened.

At 8:30 that morning, Hirsuke returned home from the night shift. He turned on the television as soon as he entered the bedroom, which was the size of four and a half straw MATS. In fact, there is nothing in particular to watch, just want to know the results of yesterday's sumo wrestling match. Hirsuke, who turns 40 this year, believes today will be just as uneventful as the last 39 years. It's not so much that he believes it, but that it's on track, harder to shake than the pyramids.

Therefore, when he changed the TV channel, he never thought that there would be any surprising news in the picture. Even if there is something that causes a stir in public opinion, it must not be directly related to him.

There is one channel that he watches every night after work. It is a channel that concentrates on scandals in the literary and art world, sports results and yesterday's news. The content is very light, but the scope is very broad. The host of the show is a broadcaster popular among housewives. Hirsuke has no problem with the announcer, who looks like a good-looking uncle.

Today, however, the picture showed a snowy mountain instead of the smiling face of an announcer. It looks like it was taken from a helicopter. The noise of the propeller almost drowned out the male reporter.

What's the matter? An idea flashed through Hirsuke's mind, but he didn't want to get into the details. All he wanted to know was whether the man he was watching had won. He hopes his favorite will be promoted to Yokozuna this year

Hirsuke hangs a work coat hanger with his company's name on his chest on the wall, rubs his hands together and heads into the kitchen next door. Even though it was the middle of March, the wood floor was cold after a day without a fire. He quickly put on his slippers, which were printed with tulips.

Open the refrigerator, in the middle of the floor, there are two plates with chicken nuggets and potato salad. He took both plates out, put the one with the nuggets in it in the microwave, and when he was ready, pressed the heat button. Then he filled the kettle with water and sat down on the fire. While he waited for the water to boil, he dug out a bowl from the sink and a bag of instant miso soup from the cupboard drawer. He pulled the mouth off the miso soup and poured the big powder into the bowl. In addition to these, there are hamburgers and beef stew in the fridge.

We'll just have hamburgers for breakfast tomorrow. He ordered breakfast for the next day.

Hirsuke works on the production floor of an auto parts factory. A year ago, he was promoted to group leader. In his workshop, employees work in groups, each working two weeks of day shifts followed by a week of night shifts, and so on. It's their group's turn to work the night shift this week.

While the night shift disrupts life and makes Hirsuke, who has just turned 40, feel a bit overwhelmed, it's not all bad. On the night shift, you can get a subsidy, and you can eat with your wife and daughter.

That year, 1985, Hirsuke's factories, like many others, were doing surprisingly well, with production rising steadily and investment in facilities booming. Of course, people like Hirsuke on the front lines are getting busy, too. It's normal to leave work at 5:30 p.m., but it's not uncommon to work an hour or two overtime, sometimes up to three hours. As a result, overtime pay can be substantial, sometimes even more than the basic salary.

But more time in the factory means less time at home. He usually gets home around 90 or 10 p.m., making it difficult for Hirsuke to have dinner with his wife Naoko and daughter Masami.

If you work the night shift, you'll be home by 8 a.m., just in time for Munami to have breakfast. It is an irreplaceable joy for Hirsuke to talk with his only child, who is about to enter sixth grade, while enjoying a meal prepared by his wife. The fatigue after the night shift disappeared immediately after seeing her daughter's smile.

And because of that. Eating breakfast alone after the night shift makes him feel tasteless. This boring breakfast will last for 3 days from today, because Naoko took Nani back to Nagano's mother's home. Her cousin died of illness and she had to rush back to attend his funeral. Since he had been told he had terminal cancer and would die soon, it was hardly a sudden obituary. Naoko and her wife had already prepared for this by buying new mourning clothes.

Originally said that she was a person to go to Nagano, but on the verge of departure, algae Nai the United States suddenly shouted to go. She said she wanted to ski there. There are several small ski resorts near Naoko's home, and since she first experienced skiing last winter, she has been completely captivated.

My daughter finally had a spring break, but she was too busy at work to play with her family. So for Hirsuke, it's a chance to make amends. Then he decides a person to endure loneliness, let algae nai the United States and his wife go together. Besides, if he doesn't let her go, his daughter will have to stay at home alone while he works the night shift, which also makes him feel bad.

The water is boiling. With the soo sauce ready, Hirsuke takes the warmed chicken pieces out of the microwave. Then he put the breakfast on a tray and took it to a low table in the next Japanese-style room. The fried chicken and potato salad we eat today, the hamburger we eat tomorrow, and the beef stew we eat the day after tomorrow are all prepared by Naoko before she leaves. Even the rice, which Naoko had made for him before the trip, was served in a thermos and eaten only a portion of it every day. Although rice in a thermos is sure to turn yellow by the third day, Hirsuke is in no position to complain.

After setting the food on the table, Hirsuke sat down cross-legged. He took a sip of miso soup and, after a pause, reached for the fried chicken. Fried chicken nuggets are Naoko's specialty and her favorite.

Enjoying the familiar smell, he turned up the volume on the television. The picture is still the host is saying something, but his face is missing the usual smile. He looked stiff and nervous. Hirsuke didn't care much about it, but thought absent-mindedly that the coverage of yesterday's sports event hadn't started yet. He used to watch the sumo match on TV during the night break, but he didn't see it yesterday.

"Let's take a look at the situation on the ground. Yamamoto, can you hear me?"

After the host finished this sentence, the scene was cut, as if it was the snow-covered mountains just seen. A young male reporter in a ski suit stood stiffly in front of the camera. Behind him, a number of men in black cold suits were busily moving back and forth.

"Ok. This is the scene of the accident. At present, the search and rescue work for the passengers is still underway. So far, 47 passengers and two drivers have been found. According to the coach company, there were 53 passengers on the bus. So six passengers are still unaccounted for."

Hearing this, Hirsuke finally wanted to look at the painting seriously. Coach -- it was the word that gripped him. Even so, there is no intense concern. He continued to pour potato salad into his mouth.

"Yamamoto, how are the passengers now? As you mentioned earlier, many people have died."

"Well, as far as we have been able to confirm, 26 people have died, including the bodies that were found. The remaining passengers have been taken to local hospitals." "But most of the survivors are in critical condition," said a reporter at the scene, looking at the records. Right now, the doctors are trying to save him."

"It's really heart-wrenching." The host said with emotion.

At that moment, the caption "Nagano ski tour bus crashes off a cliff" appeared in the lower right corner of the picture.

At this point, Hirsuke's hand with the salad stopped. He took the TV remote control and changed the channels, only to find that each channel was broadcasting the same thing. Eventually, he tuned in to NHK. The female announcer was about to speak.

"Next, we report on the bus crash. A ski tour bus traveling from Tokyo to the Shiga Plateau plunged off a cliff at around 6 a.m. on a national highway in Nagano, Nagano Prefecture. The bus belonged to the Tokyo-based Okuroku Transportation Company."

At this, Hirsuke's mind was slightly confused. That's because several keywords have been flying into the ear - Shiga Plateau, ski tour bus, Big black traffic...

On this trip to her mother's home, Naoko has been hesitant about one thing, that is, what means of transportation to take. It's a bit inconvenient to go to her mother's house by tram. I used to drive home with Hirsuke in my family car, but Naoko couldn't drive.

It had already been concluded that the tram, though inconvenient, was the only way to go. But it didn't take long for Naoko to come up with an entirely new plan: a ride on one of the ski tour buses commonly used by young people. Because it is high season, ski tour buses depart from Tokyo station every day, sometimes as many as 200 a day.

Naoko happened to have a friend who worked in a travel agency, so he went to ask her. I actually found a ski tour bus with seats on it because a group of guests suddenly canceled their trip just before departure.

"What luck! Then we just have to ask them to pick us up at Shiga Plateau without having to walk a lot with heavy luggage." Naoko clapped his hands in delight to hear that there were still seats available.

Hirsuke began to recall the situation, his mind like going down a flight of stairs in the dark, back to the time with fear.

Yes, she did. It's the Okuroku Transit, the ski tour bus that leaves Tokyo Station at 11:00 for the Shiga Plateau.

At the thought of this, he suddenly warmed up and then began to sweat. He felt his heart beat faster and he could clearly feel the pulse behind his ears.

Usually, a passenger company doesn't send out several buses to the same place on the same night.

Hirsuke slid his knees in front of the television, not wanting to miss any details of the report.

"The list of the dead who have been identified through ID cards is as follows..."

A list of the dead appeared side by side. The female announcer read one by one in a flat intonation. They were strange names to the press.

Hirsuke had completely lost his appetite. I was very thirsty, but I didn't care to drink. He was now gripped by a real sense that he might be involved in the tragedy. While he feared that Naoko Sugita and Nami Sugita's names would be read, he thought with three quarters of his heart: How could this tragedy not happen to him?

The announcer's voice stopped. Which means we've read the names of the victims we've identified. Neither Naoko nor Masami's name appears. Hirsuke let out a long breath, but even then, he was not entirely reassured that more than 10 of the dead had yet to be identified. Hirsuke began to wonder if his wife and daughter had brought anything to prove their identity, but he did not get a clear answer.

Hirsuke reached for the phone on the counter to call Naoko's family. Perhaps they are already there, and their worries are unnecessary. No, I'd say he was praying that it was.

He grabbed the phone and was about to press the number button when he stopped again. For the life of him, he could not recall Naoko's home phone number. He had never called a single time. He remembered only that it was a number that was easy to remember when it was put into rhyme, and though he had once remembered it, he had forgotten it now.

Hirsuke had no choice but to dig out the phone book from the colored organizer nearby. The phone book was buried at the bottom of a mountain of magazines. He quickly turned to the "KA" page, because Naoko's original last name was KASAHARA (Kasahara is pronounced in Japanese).

He finally found the number he was looking for. First, the area code. The last four digits are 7053. After reading Hirsuke still can't think of that phrase.

Hirsuke picks up the phone again and is about to dial when the TV announcer speaks again.

"According to information just received, the names of the suspected mother and daughter who were taken to Central Nagano Hospital should be Sugita. This is based on the handkerchief the girl was carrying, which was embroidered with this name. I repeat, who was taken to Nagano Central Hospital --"

Hirsuke put down the phone and sat up straight.

He could not hear what she said. There was a sound in his ear. It was a long time before he noticed that it was his own voice.

Oh, I remember.

7053 is a homonym for Naoko's name.

After another two seconds he sprang to his feet.