1. Tadaima

                                           
My name's Alexander. Alexander Keighley. I'm twenty-two years old and 6’3 tall. I’ve got black hair and green eyes. I guess you can say that I’m pretty much the silent type. Whether I’m also the strong one is something I’ll leave up to you to decide. I’ve never felt comfortable in the spotlight. Hell, I’d probably run in the exact opposite direction. I’m basically the guy who likes to blend in with the crowd and not stand out.

But it’s not really working right now.

You thought things were bad where you live during rush hour? In that case you've never experienced rush hour in the public transportation sector of Japan. Let’s just say that it gets really insane. Everybody wants to get home and on the train after having worked all those long hours. The railway even has employees who literally push people into the train, even when there is none to very little space available inside. Don’t believe me? Try googling it. But as bad as it may be, it probably still beats getting stuck in traffic jams. At least the trains usually run on time.  

With my rucksack firmly lodged between my legs, I’m trying to keep myself standing in an overcrowded train that is speeding towards Yokohama from Haneda Airport. From the corner of my eyes I see a couple of young high school girls staring at me and pretend not to notice it. The guy in front of me loses his balance and slightly staggers backwards, bumping into me. He apologizes. A bald salaryman – wedged against the left side of my body – is sweating profusely and looks annoyed.

I seriously feel like I’m stuck in a can of sardines.

According to the displays in the compartment we’ve still got seven more minutes to go until we reach our destination. I wonder if things would have been less busy if I hadn’t decided to take the direct route on the Keihin Kyuko line. I close my eyes and sigh softly.

It’s been four years since I left Japan to go to college. When it comes down to it, I’ve probably been away for almost as long as I’ve lived in this place. I moved to Japan to spend some time with my estranged father since my mom thought it would be good if I reconnected with him. See, my parents divorced when I was a toddler and I ended up staying with my mother. My father had a difficult time coming to terms with the divorce and buried himself in his work. He got quite good at it too. The whole burying thing, I mean. It wasn’t as if he had a family to get back home to in the evening. His bosses started noticing him and before my father realized it he was on the fast track for a promotion.

My only contact with him back then was through a phone call once a week; one where he would listen to me babble incoherent and incessantly. But the more he focused on his work, the less he talked to me on the phone. Once a week gradually turned into once a month. Once a month turned into once every three months. Once every three months…well, you get the picture. He never did forget my birthday though.

For some reason, every time I was supposed to spend the vacation with him something came up. I got sick. He got sick. I broke my wrist. He sprained his ankle. Our flights getting cancelled due to bad weather. You get the picture. Apparently, the whole ‘meeting in real life’ wasn’t meant to be and after a couple of years I decided to stick to email instead. I crammed my emails with all sort of trivial things; from the stuff I ate at breakfast to the colour of my shoelaces. I had no idea what I was supposed to talk about, so I wrote about everything. Truth be told, I don’t think my father really knew how to react to those emails I sent him.  

After my thirteenth birthday, something changed. My father started emailing me more frequently. He even called me on several occasions, which – in turn – lead to some pretty awkward conversations. I swear that I didn’t even recognize his voice the first time he called.  

As it turned out, he had met someone during a conference about corporate management in South Korea. He had been one of the speakers and she was attending as a last minute replacement for a colleague who had suddenly gotten violently ill the day before. I think it must have been the conference’s subject, but maybe that’s just me. On the first day they both went to the hotel restaurant to eat dinner by themselves – which is pretty awkward anyway – and were placed in the single section.

The details still remain a bit sketchy to me, but somehow they started talking. It was love at first sight and within the span of three months they were engaged to get married. He moved to Japan, took a job there and bought a house for them to live in. While unpacking boxes in their new home, my step-mother came across my pictures and asked my father who I was. She was actually the one who encouraged him to play a more active part in my life, and also the reason why I ended up living here.

I hear Yokohama station being announced in Japanese and open my eyes. The high school girls are giggling and pointing at me. No doubt it’s about me dozing off for a bit. I try to stifle a yawn and watch as the train pulls into the huge station. A fun little fact…Yokohama Station is the busiest one in Kanagawa Prefecture and as of 2004 the fifth busiest station in Japan, serving 2.05 million passengers each day.

No matter how you look at it, that’s a lot of people.   

I feel the crowd slowly moving towards the doors – pushing me along with them – even though the train still hasn’t come to a halt. The lure of ‘fresh’ air proves simply too tempting to resist. Honestly, I don’t blame them. After being stuck in an overcrowded train with sweaty people for twenty-five minutes straight, I feel the same way. After what feels like an eternity, the train finally stops and the doors open in front of us. As the crowd slowly spills out onto the platform, I try to grab my rucksack without elbowing someone in the stomach or face. I don’t hear anyone cursing, so I think I may just have succeeded. I softly utter an apology just to be sure.

A lot of my fellow passengers are heading towards the escalators, but I choose to take the stairs instead. It’s less crowded and I like it better that way. Judging by the small amount of people accompanying me, I’m also not the only one with that particular mindset. When I reach the top of the stairs, I find myself trying to catch my breath. I try to grab the train ticket I had tucked away in the back pocket of my jeans while navigating through the crowd. Not one of my smartest moves, that. Especially if you want to avoid bumping into someone. Fortunately, I have somewhat of an advantage – with me towering over the majority of the people here. It makes the whole navigating thing a bit easier. I can already see the East exit looming in the distance, but need to get through the ticket gates first.

Train ticket in hand, I make my way over to the ticket gates. As there are many, standing in line doesn’t take up that much of your time. Before I know it, it’s my turn. I insert the ticket in the slot and head through the gate. I had hoped that one of my friends would have been here waiting for me, but there’s no sign of him yet. He probably got stuck in traffic. And, since I’ve still got a bit of time to kill, I may as well do something useful. I walk over to a payphone and drop my rucksack on the floor, positioning it between my legs again. Throwing a couple of coins into the slots, I pick up the phone and start dialling.

“Keighley residence,” a familiar voice answered in Japanese.

“Hey…Dad, it’s me. Just wanted to tell you that I arrived safely.”

“Alex…” He paused. I can hear that he’s surprised to hear me. “I would have picked you up from the airport if you’d asked me to.”

“Yeah, I know. But with rush hour and all, I figured it be more convenient if I just took the train instead.”

“How did that work out for you?” he asked dryly.

“I think I need a shower,” I replied with a grin.

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“Nobu’s letting me crash at his place,” I answered somewhat absentmindedly as I glance at the phone’s display telling me that I’ve got one minute and a half left.

“Haruka’s little brother?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. He’s living at a Share House with Eiji and it still has a couple of vacant rooms, so it’s perfect for me. For now anyway…”

“You know…”

I know what he is going to say and quickly cut him off. “It’s all good. I know that I’d be more than welcome to stay at the house, but Miyu was only born two months ago and I don’t want to burden you and Mariko. Besides, you’ve also got Takumi to think about.”     

“Still…”

The phone starts beeping, signalling that I’ve got very little time left. This was going to be a very short conversation. “Seriously…I’ll be fine. I’ve managed to brush up on my survival skills the past couple of years.”

“Okay. But be sure to visit us soon, Alexander.”

“Will do. Take care, Dad.”

I can’t hear his reply, because at that exact moment the line goes dead. Coins will only get you that far. I’m just glad that I managed to say some of the more important things. I really don’t want him and my step-mother to start worrying about me. Although I’m sure that Mariko will still find some excuse to bring me dinner in the near future and that Nobu won’t complain when that happens. The last time Eiji and I let him cook dinner for us back when we were all still in high school, we nearly ended up in the hospital with food poisoning.  

I hang up the phone and pick up my rucksack again. It’s time for me to try my luck outside. Exiting through the East entrance of Yokohama station, I notice a billboard across the street. I can’t help but stare as I recognize one of the people featured on it.

“She’s been getting really popular,” a voice boomed, somewhat distorted.

Startled, I look around and see a motorcyclist standing in front of me, slightly leaning on his motorcycle. Man, I hadn’t even realized he had been there in the first place. I wonder how long he had been observing me.

“Haruka,” I mumbled.

“Well…at least you haven’t forgotten her name,” the motorcyclist quipped. “Although I do have to admit that I’m somewhat insulted that you’ve forgotten mine. I blame my sister...she has that effect on men nowadays.”

“Nobu?”

He laughed as he took off his helmet. “You haven’t changed much, Alex-kun. Sorry to have kept you waiting. Traffic was a b****.”

I actually met Nobu through Haruka. We certainly didn’t start out as friends. He was really suspicious of this gaijin punk being friends with his older sister. The guy thought I had some kind of ulterior motive and it took him quite a while to get past that. Once that finally happened, we hit it off quite nicely. He remained fiercely protective of Haruka, though, and I pitied the guy who might end up hurting his sister in any kind of way…

“You haven’t changed much either,” I countered, grinning from ear to ear. “Except maybe for growing an inch or two.”

“Yeah…well, we can’t all be tall like you,” Nobu said, sticking out his tongue at me. “It looks like they’ve been feeding you well enough over there. You must have gotten pretty sick of all those hamburgers. Luckily, tonight you’ll finally be able to eat healthy food again.”

“Nobu, they do have Asian food in the States,” I said dryly.

“But I doubt that it tastes as good as it does over here. This is – after all – its place of origin.”

“You’re not the one responsible for dinner tonight, are you?” I winced, remembering Nobu’s many failed experiments. It had gotten so bad that his mother and Haruka actually banned him from going anywhere near the kitchen.

I absolutely didn't want to spend my first night back in Japan in hospital.  

“No…we’re ordering take-out,” he laughed, punching me in the arm. “Luckily, I managed to bully Eiji into paying for dinner. He’s the one with the nice and steady income after all.”  

“How did you manage that?”

“I threatened to cook dinner.”

I chuckled. Eiji must have been mortified. “Smart move.”

“I thought so too. I just didn’t think it would be that easy though,” he replied as he opened the trunk at the back of his motorcycle. Before long Nobu pulled out a helmet and threw it at me. “Catch, old man!”

“Are you sure that we’ll be all right like this?” I asked incredulously after catching the helmet.

I was starting to feel a bit uneasy. During my absence Eiji had told me a couple of stories that made me seriously doubt Nobu’s driving skills of any kind of vehicle. Of course, there was also my rucksack to take into account. It wasn’t that huge, but could still make things difficult during the ride back to the house.

“Tsk…Eiji’s been at it again.” Nobu’s voice sounded exasperated as he looked up into the sky. Running his hands through hair, he continued. “</i>Now I really don’t feel bad about getting him to pay for dinner tonight. That bastard really should learn when to shut up. Man, I swear that I haven’t been in an accident for a very long time</i>.”

Then again, it was true that Eiji had always had a flair for the dramatics, so maybe I should just give Nobu the benefit of the doubt for once. “I believe you. But will you be okay with me carrying the rucksack on my back while you’re driving?”

“Hmm…I think it will be fine if you just sit perfectly still.”

“Perfectly still?” A frown appeared on my face as I stared at my rucksack. It was not going to be an easy trip.

“Still…what’s up with that monstrosity of a bag? It seems to have grown since the last time I saw it.”  

“It’s a different one,” I replied dryly. The one I had taken with me to the States had belonged to my father. It was ancient, smelled funny and things had started to grow inside of it. At one point I could have sworn that it moved on its own. That had been my cue to get rid of it and replace it with a newer model. “And it’s actually smaller than the other one, Nobu.”

“Sure,” he said, rolling his eyes. The sarcasm was evident in his voice. “Looking at that makes me glad that you shipped most of your stuff over in boxes already.”

“That makes two of us.” I would probably be spending the majority of the evening unpacking those boxes, but I honestly couldn’t care less at the moment. All I wanted to do right now was to take a shower and clean up. And eat dinner, of course.   

“You ready to go?” Nobu asked, getting on his motorcycle. He quickly put on his helmet and watched as I fastened my rucksack.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I answered, putting on the helmet he’d given me. It wasn’t exactly a perfect fit, but it would have to do.