*thud*
"Ah!.."
My body jolted awake as the bus hit a bump in the road.
I had been dozing against the window, lulled by the low rumble of the engine. The sudden shake snapped me back to consciousness. It was already past seven in the evening.
As I straightened up, I noticed the top button of my crisp white blouse had come undone. I quietly refastened it, smoothing the fabric beneath the neat line of my charcoal-gray vest.
My navy blazer felt stiff after the fall, so I slipped it off and folded it carefully over my arm. The narrow ribbon tie at my collar had come loose—I tucked it into my work bag along with my ID holder.
I adjusted the hem of my knee-length skirt and steadied my posture, holding both my bag and blazer close against me.
I glanced around the nearly empty bus. A few high school students in uniform, a couple of sleepy salarymen, and some elderly passengers scrolling on their phones. No one was paying me any attention.
Letting out a quiet breath, I turned back to the window.
My name is Ishika Fujikuro. I'm half-Japanese, half-Indian, and I work as a civil servant in the prefectural government of Japan, handling regional revitalization for Shizuoka and Yamanashi.
(A.n:地域活性化 (chiiki kasseika) or 地域振興 (chiiki shinkō)]
Reviving shrinking towns, repairing neglected infrastructure, trying to bring people and life back to these quiet places — that was my job.
The bus rattled over another rough patch.
"Damn… can't the government act any faster?"
The complaint drifted from somewhere behind me. I flinched inwardly, even though I knew it wasn't aimed at me personally. Still, it stung. I was on my way to a small village near Mt. Fuji that had filed repeated reports about misused funds and abandoned roadwork. Nothing had been fixed despite the paperwork.
After months of mostly desk work — meetings, grant applications, and campaigns to attract new residents — this field investigation felt like a rare chance, actually, to get something done. Complaints like this were unusual in these two prefectures; most "dying towns" here had already been stabilized. So when this one landed on my desk, I jumped at the opportunity.
I'd spent the last two days signing off on repairs, clearing stalled construction sites, and coordinating with local officials. Job mostly done, I'd boarded the evening bus toward Yamanashi to catch my connection home.
Outside, the night sky stretched wide and clear. The bus plunged into a long mountain tunnel.
Halfway through, the tunnel lights disappeared. And darkness covered the bus along with everyone in the bus. The phone lights also disappeared.
Complete darkness swallowed the bus. Every phone screen went black at the same moment, as if someone had flipped a master switch. Gasps erupted all around me.
"W-what happened?"
"Hey, my phone's dead—"
Then—
A blinding white light exploded through the tunnel.
*HONK*
For a moment, there was only ringing noises in my ear, and the white light blinded my vision.
Then—
Cold.
My eyes snapped open.
I was lying on something impossibly smooth — like polished glass, faintly cool beneath my palms. It stretched endlessly under a pale, empty sky. I pushed myself up on unsteady arms.
"Where am I?" I asked myself. My eyes were still blurry. Though there was one thing I understood.
The bus was gone. The windows were replaced by a huge horizon. Unlike the moving sensation of the body, I felt like I was standing still on the ground.
"An accident?" I checked for any injury or blood on my body. There were none.
I was surprised and looked at my surroundings. I noticed my bag and blazer lying on the ground beside me. I picked up my blazer and wore it. Grabbed my bag and held it by my shoulder. I noticed this after looking left and right.
I wasn't alone. There were people. Some were still lying on the ground...some were already recovered and panicking. I recognized most of them—they had all been on the bus before we entered the tunnel.
There were at least fifty people here.
Not just the passengers from the bus—there were others too.
They all looked Japanese, and it made me nervous. I had a very bad feeling about this.
"Where are we?" one of the youth asks his companion.
At that question, I look around myself. My eyes widen at the moon- not only the moon, but at the ground we are standing on.
a vast, ancient-looking platform floating among drifting clouds, broken pillars rising like the ruins of some long-forgotten temple.
"…Where am I?"
Murmurs of confusion and rising panic echoed around her. She wasn't alone. Faces she recognized from the bus — the high school students, the elderly couple, the tired salarymen — were scattered across the quartz expanse, all looking just as lost and terrified as I was.
"This… this isn't Japan," one of the youth answered.
"Hey, kids! Stop playing jokes", one of the adults with a straw hat shouted at the high-schoolers.
"If it is Japan...then why are we on some ancient-temple-like structure?" The kid makes a point.The architecture of the temple isn't that of Japan.
"Not to mention where this structure is located on.."
My eyes flinch at the realization...clouds stretching endlessly from the cliff...
Just where are we?
Just… where are we?
Then—
A voice echoed across the large pillars in front of us.
"Yokoso."
welcome.
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