Always enjoy the rush hour when the world is rushing the other way. I get on the Tokyu Toyoko-sen, Limited Express, bound for Yokohama. Empty train car, save a sleeping boy cat-stretched across four seats.

Never mind, off we go.

3 minutes later – Naka-Meguro Station. The sleeping boy remains sacked out, slumbering. Passengers glance and frown at him, but soon take their places and feign ignorance. By Jiyugaoka I begin to worry, the sleeping boy hasn’t moved – not a muscle in 9 minutes.

It’s then I notice, beneath his dangling arm, a mobile on the ground. I get up to retrieve it – and then see blood – trickles of it dried down the side of his mouth. Something’s definitely wrong. I feel the stares of others fixed on me – I’m causing a scene. But I tap the sleeping boy on the shoulder anyway, nudge him and ask if he’s all right. No one bothers to offer assistance and I feel angry as I have to ask, “Someone call a station attendant!”

But no one does. No one moves, except to look the other way.

8 minutes later – Hiyoshi Station. Passengers pouring into the train car, passengers streaming out. Everyone jostling for their favourite positions as furtive looks are cast my way. And then out of the blue, a 20-something female acknowledges me. She apologizes as she makes for the doors, says she can’t be late for work but she’ll call for help.

And I’m left in a moment that almost goes on forever…

Until a handful of station attendants appear like whirling dervishes. They scurry inside and methodically proceed. Passengers are ordered to clear the area, and I’m pushed to the side as they identify the sleeping boy and carry his body onto a stretcher. I remember the mobile and attempt to explain, but it’s ripped from my hand as they all whisk away.

In the end an empty train car, save me. Bloody fucking efficient, I think.

…as I feel the cross stares of those who’ve been delayed, inconvenienced by my interference.

Beware when doing good deeds.

Pleasantly drunk. On my way home. Getting off the Hanzomon-sen, making my way to the Tokyu Toyoko-sen.

Up the steps and just past the JR ticket machines when I hear my name.

I’m scanning the crowd for a familiar face, but at Shibuya Station on a Saturday night -with last trains approaching- everyone and everything’s a blur.

It’s better that way, sometimes, getting lost outside the crowd instead of in it.

But I hear my name again and then there she is, standing directly in front of me shaking dry her umbrella, Mitsuko.

A few pleasantries exchanged and how has it been? Not bad, and you? Same as always. Hey, why don’t you have an umbrella, it’s raining out there! I never use one. Well you should, you’ll catch cold!

Mitsuko asks if I’m drunk. When I tell her I am she laughs. She is too, she says, blows on my face to prove it. She laughs again, I smell shōchū…and laugh back. Then she excitedly takes my hand.

“Let’s go for a drink!” she says.

And I want to. We’ve only ever met once before, but we flirted our way then to now’s exact same proposition.

I want to, but I can’t. Not tonight. And when I say so, Mitsuko sneers, but tells me she understands. And she should, because she should know why.

“Next time, eh?” I offer.

“I could make you promise.”

Without thinking I kiss her forehead. It’s a stupid thing to do but I’m doing it, and then -too late- it’s done.

Mitsuko looks at me a little disappointed. Then she’s digging around in her purse, and before I have a chance to say or do anything, she gives me a slip of paper with her number on it.

“Next time, eh?” she smiles.

“Promise.”
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I could have used another drink on the way back home.