Chapter 17Not far from the love hotels of Shinjuku, a small tangle of back alleys rebuffed the glow from Shinjuku’s neon-peppered streets. The alleys huddled tight along the train tracks converging on Shinjuku Station. The yakitori stands and tachinomi bars, their odd-angled braces and slapdash crossbeams trembled with each passing train.
Gusts of typhoon rain dripped off the ramshackle gutters and sluiced through rusted pipes onto the woven rice-straw mats slung over the alleys. Grizzled men and dough-faced women worked tirelessly all night serving shochu distilled rice liquor, cold bottles of beer, and small plates of food.
Michiko and Mark sat at the oily counter of a yakitori place at the end of the alley. Shadows fell from the single bulb dangling over the grill counter. Michiko sat
