Shisui flicked away his unfinished cigarette and boarded the train bound for Shibuya. The digital clock inside read 5:30 p.m. Most of his coworkers were probably just leaving the office. He didn't want to run into any of them. He'd never had issues with his bosses, and he intended to keep it that way. Shisui positioned himself in a corner by the window, standing quietly and avoiding eye contact with the other passengers. "Next stop, Shibuya Station," the announcer said. As the train slowed, he moved toward the nearest door, ready to step off the moment it opened. Pushing through the crowded platform and the noise that came with it, Shisui hurried out of the station without looking back. He felt blank. He had no plan, no destination. He just walked, letting his eyes drift across the faces of strangers, the towering buildings, the packed storefronts. He watched families eating together, friends laughing, couples kissing, and some even making out in alleyway corners. None of it surprised him. The strangeness of Shibuya had long since become routine. As he walked by Shibuya's night district, Shisui decided to walk its streets. By that time, Shibuya's night district had changed. It was quieter now, almost drained. The neon lights were mostly off, and the crowded streets had become narrow alleys lined with half-closed shutters. Shisui walked at a slow pace, taking in the shift. He glanced at the love hotels. Most were still open, but just barely, their signs flickering with little effort. Many of them glowed in shades of pink and red, the usual glow that gave the place its mix of romance and desire. There were hardly any people around. Still, Shisui noticed a few girls stepping out of Dogenzaka, one of the nearby love hotels. He glanced at their faces. They looked pretty, even with last night's makeup smudged and their heels dangling from their hands as they climbed into taxis. As he kept walking, a girl suddenly approached him. "Good afternoon, mister," the girl said. At first, Shisui was caught off guard. Is she talking to me? Why? he muttered under his breath, wary of a stranger approaching him. Then he noticed—he was the only one walking the street.
"Yes?" he finally replied.
"Sorry to bother you," she said. "I just need some help."
The girl was undeniably pretty. There was something mixed in her features, maybe part Western. Her hair was blonde, her eyebrows sharply shaped, and her hazel eyes were small but alert. A soft, upturned nose and heart-shaped lips gave her face a distinct charm. She wore a dark blue dress that fit her just right. Her figure was polished, almost like a mannequin. Graceful lines, a narrow waist, and long, slim legs that moved with quiet confidence. Shisui wasn't particularly taken by her beauty, but it had been a long time since he'd spoken to a woman, aside from Ms. Mei. Snapping back to himself, he realized he hadn't responded for a few seconds. "How can I help?" he asked quickly.
"I don't want to bore you with the details," the girl said, "but the man I was with last night stole my purse. I just need a bit of cash to get a taxi."
Shisui's mind began whirring. He thought about what she told him, like he were an important character. How much does she need? Who was the guy? Her husband? Boyfriend? Lover? No... he stole her purse. Probably just a date. Maybe he saw some cash, got greedy, took it, and ran. Or maybe she's a prostitute and he was a client. Or the other way around, but that seems unlikely. She doesn't look like someone who pays for company... and she doesn't really look like a prostitute either. At least, not to me. Still, she needs money. My money. Do I have enough? Maybe a few coins... that should help.
"How much do you need?" Shisui asked.
"Five hundred yen," she said.
"Five hundred…" he murmured. That won't even get her past the train station. It's five minutes from here. Is she trying to get a refund on what she lost?
"Alright then," he said, reaching into his pocket. "Here's 500 yen."
The girl was surprised. He didn't ask a single question, just handed over the money. She had no idea how many questions he'd asked himself in those few seconds. "Thank you so much, sir," she said, taking the money. She called over a cab, bowed to Shisui once more, and got in. Shisui went on his way like nothing had happened. As he reached the end of the street, he noticed a group of men dressed entirely in black. They all wore matching suits, dark sunglasses, and stood in a neat formation near a doorway, waiting for someone. As Shisui walked past them, a few of the men turned and gave him sharp looks. He couldn't see their eyes behind the sunglasses, but he could feel it. He kept walking, pretending not to notice. Suddenly, the door behind them opened, and an older man in traditional Yakuza attire stepped out. Without a word, the black-suited men fell in behind him in perfect order.
"Yakuza, huh?" Shisui muttered. "Must be someone important to need that much protection." Shisui had seen enough. He turned the corner and came to a stop, trying to figure out his next move. He felt a bit hungry, but not enough to eat. He reached into his pocket—this time looking for his wristwatch. "Oh, shit," he muttered. "I forgot I gave it to that guy." Without thinking twice, he decided to grab a quick snack and head straight to the stranger's place. Shisui didn't forget the place. He made his way through the alleys without getting lost. The shop door was open. He knocked twice, then stepped inside. It was still the same. Everything was exactly as it had been. Every item in its place. Silent. Still. But the stranger was gone. "Hello!" He called.
The objects around him pulled his attention again. Hourglasses. The poster. Appliances. Something about the space felt like it was watching him back. He moved slowly, eyes scanning the room, until he bumped into the desk. There, on top, was the lost book he'd been reading that morning.