We’re supposed to be getting a new student soon. I can’t remember where I heard that, or who I heard it from. Maybe I never really heard it, and it was something I remember from a dream. I have so many dreams, but I remember so few of them. My life is full of moments like these, a sudden flash of déjà vu here or there, with nothing to connect them too.
        I surface from sleep in my bed, in the girls’ dormitory. Was I here when I slipped away? I try to remember, but like always, I cannot remember the moment of transition. I was walking, I’m quite sure of that, but walking from where?
        Class, of course. We had finished another of Mutou’s science lectures (I managed to stay awake this time, but I learned little.) and were dismissed. Somewhere between classroom 3-3 and the dormitory, I must have slipped away. Embarrassing. Awkward. Somebody must have carried me back and placed me on my bed.
        Slowly, I run my hands up and down my body, looking for the inevitable bruise or ache. One cannot collapse in a corridor without some injury, no matter how minor. I find the bruise on my shoulder. A grey smear on my pale skin. My skin is always pale. I have little chance to enjoy the sunlight.
        I check my clock, and realise that I’ve slept though the literature club meeting. Another moment of my life that has passed me by while I dream my foolish, ill-remembered dreams. My room is cluttered with books and papers. The books I have taken from the library, and I need to return many of them. I tell myself that I will do it tomorrow, but I know that I will break my own promise.
        My room is safe. I have seen many of the other dormitory rooms, and their occupants have made them into their own homes. My room is less of a home, and more of a shelter. Within these walls, I can slip in and out of consciousness and nobody will know but me. I spend a lot of time here. Aside from my classes and the literature club, I only venture outside to get food from the local shops and return my books to the library.
        I should eat. There is still some food left over, but I’m not hungry. Instead, I pull a book from the nearest stack and leaf through the pages. My eyes glide across the page but the words themselves are meaningless. Drowsiness has settled over my mind like a low cloud, leaving my thought sluggish. At least I’m already in bed, I tell myself with a sad smile as I slip away again.
        The night is fitful. Irregular. While all others are sleeping happily, I linger on the threshold. Too tired to be called properly awake, I am nevertheless unable to sleep. My nights are often spent reading by the light of the moon, only for sleep to creep over me as dawn starts to approach. I set my alarm to wake me in time for class and lie back, waiting for the next day to begin.
        The class is busy, and a little noisy. Mutou is late again and I wonder if he has overslept. Sometimes, I feel sympathy for our teacher. He always looks tired. I wonder if I look the same way to the rest of the class. My head rests on my desk as I fight to stay awake. Perhaps this is the day that our new classmate will arrive. There is an empty desk set out near Hakamichi that I don’t remember from yesterday’s class.
        Mutou arrives at last, with the new student in tow. He looks awkward standing in front of the class while Mutou apologises for being late. I suddenly want to sit up and reassure him. I want to give him a smile, or a wave. Anything to take a little of the sadness away from his eyes. I want him to see me and feel welcome.
        I can’t. I can barely lift my head to look at him, let alone give him a wave. I can barely keep my eyes open, let alone give him a smile. As he starts to introduce himself, I can feel my wits drain away and the remaining strength leave my limbs. I suddenly hate my condition, more than I can ever remember hating it. I catch one last sentence of his introduction before sleep claims me.
        He says his name is Hisao Nakai.