Chapter One - Heartbroken and lost in Shibuya
I gape at the night-time crowd in front of me, and I wonder for the millionth time since I arrived in Tokyo two days ago what the hell I was thinking coming here.
But that was it. I wasn't thinking. Three days ago, I had only one thought in my head after walking in on my fiancé f*****g my best friend two weeks to our wedding.
I had to get away. I had to leave. I felt the compulsion to escape. It was like I couldn't breathe the longer I remained in New York, so I did the next best thing immediately without thinking about it or worrying about anything else for the first time in my life.
I bought a flight ticket to the other side of the world. Japan. Tokyo. I don't even speak Japanese. Well, asides Arigatou, Hai!, lie!, Sumimasen, and konnichiwa spoken in a truly dreadful heavy American accent. Which surprisingly has proved useful for someone who has remained holed up in the first cheap hotel they could find as soon as they arrived in the bustling city.
It was the only available flight out of New York that midnight. I was desperate. I knew if I remained in New York, I would lose my mind.
Where do I begin with cancelling all the wedding plans? Where do I begin explaining myself? How do I expose the gaping hole the two people I loved and trusted the most in the world had left in my heart to the world?
So I ran away. I left everything behind. The one way ticket wasn't cheap but I had the money.
Was I dramatic for just jumping on a flight to a country I had never been to and didn't speak their language? Definitely. I am the kind of person governed by order. Richard, my now ex fiancé, suspected I might be autistic. I just liked things a certain way and lost my mind when they weren't exactly how I wanted.
So when the very foundation of my life crumbled the moment I walked into the apartment I shared with my fiancé and met him inside my best friend, on our bed and they weren't startled, rather, they were annoyed I walked in on them. Like I was being an inconvenience. Things had gone so far left of how I wanted them to be so I lost my mind.
"You so beautiful." Someone with a hot spicy breath whispered into my ear and I almost jump out of my skin and mind.
I turn around to see a guy the same height as me, with bright pink dyed hair and a creepy oily smile on his small face. My stomach roils with dread.
I look around, hoping he wasn't talking to me, but how likely is that? He literally spoke into my ear. Still, I take a step back, eyes darting madly around me. There is so many people going about. But no one pays me any mind. The younger ones have their ears plugged in, eyes glued to their phones, the older ones have their blank eyes fixed at a distance as they walked along. Everyone has somewhere to be. Everyone but me and this weird guy still smiling at me.
"What?" I take another step back. I had been dreading plunging myself into the famous Shibuya crossing with that sea of people, but it looks like that would be the only way to escape this guy now.
"You so beautiful. Name?" He takes a step towards me and I feel the urge to scream, he sees the wild panicked look in my eyes and raises his hands up, "no, no harm. No danger." He smiles again and it does nothing to quell the dread swirling in the pit of my stomach.
I know I shouldn't have left the damn hotel. But again, that compulsion to get out, out of my thoughts and body, to distract myself from the fever of the hurt I was feeling, it took hold of me and I mindlessly tumbled out of the hotel and got mixed up in the moving crowd, following the tide till it spit me here, in front of the crossing where finally, I hesitated.
"Um, sorry. Sumimasen...?" I clear my throat, the word for excuse me comes out sounding like a question. Like I am pleading with the guy to leave me alone. I am not even sure I used the phrase correctly.
"Tourist?" He asks, his smile shifting into a smirk as his eyes rove my body slowly, lingering on my chest and back up to my eyes.
"Welcome to Shibuya!" He announces, laughing like it is the funniest thing he has ever said.
My legs move then, I turn around and dive into the crossing, stumbling against a tall man in dark suit who doesn't pay me any mind as I mutter sorry under my breath in English. The tide of the moving crowd takes me again, I sneak a glance back to see the guy staring at me with an expression that makes a shiver run down my spine.
I need to disappear. I need to return to the safety of my hotel room and remain there till I can figure out what the f**k I want to do with my life. Maybe get the next flight ticket to a quieter city anywhere else in the world. What was I even thinking coming to Tokyo of all places? Did I lose my mind?
Okay. Yes. I did. And I still haven't found it. I am not sure I am even looking.
Once I get to the other side of the crossing, the crowd splits into different directions and I am once again lost, standing in the middle of nowhere, a thousand different routes and possibilities all around me.
I spot the black leather jacket of the pink haired guy who had spoken in my ear in the crowd making the next crossing, his small eyes searching for me and I start moving again, without thinking, I dash into the nearest alley.
Bang!
I am halfway through the dark eerie quiet alley when I stop. My heart skipping madly in my chest.
Was that a gunshot or am I hallucinating?
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Oh my god. Oh my god. It is gunshots!
i turn around, intending to retrace my steps back, I can handle perverts, not criminals wielding guns in dark alleys.
Someone yells something in Japanese at me from behind and I freeze, I don't speak the language but the angry tone tells me all I need to know. My knees threaten to give out as I raise my hands up high and turn around slowly. Maybe if they see that I am American, they would let me go.
The person is shrouded in shadows, tall and menacing, I see the glint of metal leveled at me, it takes me a few seconds to understand that I am staring into the barrel of a gun and my mouth goes dry.
I make a sound, a terrified squeak I am not proud of. Suddenly, there is a rush of movement behind me and before I can understand what is going on, a strong arm circles my neck from behind, the cold barrel of a gun pressing into my neck against my fast pulse.
Someone hisses a command into my ear in a tone colder than the metal pushing into my skin. It is spoken in Japanese, but the harsh tone gives me the idea of what it means.
Don't move.
Goosebumps break out on every inch of my skin.
What have I stumbled on? Am I going to die stuck in the middle of some gang shootout I know nothing about? Oh god. Oh god. The one time I decide to be spontaneous, I am going to end up dead.
The figure in the shadows step out and when the tiny stripes of neon light from far ahead in the city splashes on his face, my breath catches in my throat.
