Short Story / Yamanote 2: Akihabara

        Hello, my name is Jenny and I’m afraid of beautiful boys.  Why am I living in Tokyo?  Because my God is cruel and sadistic creature.  I have a simple problem with love.  Usually, I’m the only one who’s actually in love at all.  No matter whom the person, or what the situation, I always end up alone—but still in love.  I’ve jumped quickly into new relationships just to ease my loneliness, but those fast little flings never end well.  And so, now I’m trying to learn from my own mistakes.  I refuse, totally and completely, to fall head over heals for a pretty face ever again.
        “Boku wa Kitsune desu,” Beautiful said with a bright smile and a bow. “Yoroshiku ne.”
        I introduced my self as well, mimicking Kitsune’s bow.  I hate me…
        He held out a hand to me. “Iko?” Shall we?
        I stared down at his hand; a simple beaded and string bracelet, slender fingers, soft and caramel tanned skin…  I nodded politely and turned toward the exit, clutching my purse tightly with both hands.  Kitsune paused for a moment—probably frowning at me for not taking his hand—but then followed beside me.  We came to the short, automatic metal gates and I slipped my small yellow ticket into slot first. Kitsune drifted into line behind me.  The machine gobbled up my ticket and opened the gate, letting me pass.  As I stepped through the gate to the open but crowded space beyond, I thought of taking off at a run.  I knew I could loose him in the constantly streaming crowds.  It wouldn’t be that hard in the middle of a Sunday.  There was sure to a sea of countless people outside in Akihabara…
        “Ne, Jeeni-chan, what do you need to buy?”  Those fine, caramel fingers curved lightly around my shoulder as Kitsune filled the space behind me.  He leaned around my other side to give me a curious smile.
        Crap.
        “Daijobu?” he asked if I was okay.
        “SIM card,” I managed to utter.  “I need more space.  I mean-” I snapped my eyes away from him and to the ground. “I need more memory for my camera.”
        “Eeh?” he toned brightly. “You like to take pictures?  Boku mo.  Mainichi kamura ga moteiku…”
        His voice drifted out of my grasp.  I focused all of my attention on staying on my feet while he began to lead me passed the ticket machines, still gently holding my shoulder.  Inhale, exhale … inhale, exhale … I could worry about things like talking later.  I hardly noticed as we walked down the stairs and towards the station exit.  My mind was too busy yelling at me to keep me informed of the physical world.  What was going on?  I just went out on a simple errand!  Now here I was covered in cutie!  How had I gotten in the mess?  I couldn’t keep this up.  I had to get away.  Why couldn’t he just ignore me like all of the other boys of unspeakable beauty?
        Somehow, I noticed Kitsune tense up beside me and his pace slowed to a stop.  As we stepped into the sunlight I looked up to see the natural inhabitants of Akihabara out in full force.  A true sea of hundreds of people ebbed and flowed between the towering, neon and poster covered buildings.  As I’d guessed, the clear majority of the people earned the title of “otaku:” pale, skinny, uncoordinated, badly dressed, and laden down with bags full of computer parts and anime memorabilia.
        Kitsune shuttered.  He quietly moved behind me, peeking over my shoulder with a small whimper.  I turned back to look at him.  His eyes jerked quickly over the crowd, scanning the geeks with growing tension.  He looked back to me with a frightened pout.  Every fiber of my being wanted to rough-up his hair and coo at him.
        I don’t know how I managed to say, “You’re being cute.”
        Kitsune raised one hand in front of his face and gave me a short nod. “Gomen.”  He’d apologized, but nothing else changed.  I still wanted to coo at him.
        I let out a sigh.  “Come on,” I said, taking his hand.  Before I had time to realize what I had just done, I walked out into the running currents of otaku.
        “Cho-chotto!” Kitsune complained as I drew him into the sea with me.
        I ignored him and fished through the crowd, making instant course corrections as the crowds moved around us.  I felt Kitsune grip my hand tightly, following in my footsteps as the path I cut disappeared behind us.  For a moment, I lost sight of the city in the faces around me.  I kept walking anyway and I soon caught sight of my goal, only to loose it again a moment later.  It still surprises me that these people can keep from running into each other.  Even tough there were so many people, the only person I touched was Kitsune.
        A bay of clear glass doors—flanked on both sides by barkers in short red skirts—opened before me as I reached the building.  I slipped past them and into the busy, bright, clean, multi leveled store.   An empty pocket of space caught the corner of my eye, just beside the well of escalators in the center of the store floor.  I headed for it quickly, leading Kitsune through the throngs of exiting customers.  More barkers in short skirts offered coupons and advertisements at the edges of the crowd under the glaring white lights above.  People yelled to talk over the noise, while cashiers called in customers at a steady and efficient pace.  Lines formed and emptied themselves in an endless stream of shopping.  As Kitsune and I reached the bubble of emptiness, I let go of his hand.
        He instantly grabbed onto my arm with both hands, staring fearfully at the rest of the store.  “Kowai…” he breathed in a breathless voice before turning his eyes on me again. “Thank you.”
        “See, it’s not so bad,” I said, tugging to free my arm.
        He let go reluctantly and hung close to me.  I took a deep breath to calm myself down, but I caught a whiff of his sugar sent again.  So much for relaxing…
        “I need to go to the forth floor,” I said, pointing to the store map that hung over the up-ward escalators. “Can you get what you need in this store?”
        Kitsune read over the map.  After a second, his face twitched into a grin. “Kami-sama, Arigato,” he muttered, thanking God.  “Yon-kai de.  Same floor as you.”
        I giggled and looked for the end of the line of people who were waiting to board the up-ward escalators.  It was currently a few feet long, arcing towards the doors.  I moved to the end of the line as others drifted in around me.  Kitsune followed me closely and took my hand again, standing just behind me in the line.
        I suppose that my senses must have been dulling under the bright lights and chaotic sounds of Akihabara.  The slightly cool feeling of Kitsune’s hand holding mine didn’t worry me as much as it had before.  I could almost cope with the reality of how close he was standing.
        We road up through a well of mirrors and neon light that followed the twin escalators up from the basements below to the ninth floor above.  Some of the shoppers in front of me turned off at the next floor, into the bright and shiny shelves and displays.  Others turned instantly to the right and onto the next escalator while another shorter line of boarders fit in between us.   I caught a glimpse of someone waiting to board as I slipped just in front of him.  He was an extreme case of otaku: long greasy black hair hanging free, faded anime T-shirt that was far too big on his skeletal frame, no light of any kind in his tiny eyes.  King Otaku sniffed loudly and nudged his coke-bottle glassed up his crooked nose as he moved to get on the escalator behind me.
        I heard Kitsune’s tiny shriek as slipped in front of King Otaku.  I turned to look back at him as we road upward.  His eyes were shut tightly and his form was as withdrawn as it could possibly be from the King Otaku behind him.  I felt the hand that I held growing warmer.
        “Daijobu,” I whispered, close to his ear. “Hitori janai.” It’s ok, you’re not alone.
        His eyes opened with a softness I’ve never seen in an unspeakably beautiful boy.  For that moment, he almost looked human.  He nodded and held my hand a little tighter.
        We made it to the forth floor and left King Otaku climbing higher into the store.  We met a barker at the end of the escalators and hurried past her into the gleaming, glowing displays of brand new digital cameras.  This high in the store, the crowds had thinned out into puddles: smaller collections of shopper instead of the constant streams below.
        Kitsune let out a deep breath as we moved through the maze of displays. “I thought I died!”
        “Let’s just get what we need and get out of here,” I said, biting back my giggles.  I love those little hiccups in English…
        “Un,” Kitsune confirmed with a nod. “Kochi, kochi,” he said, directing me to a wall of memory cards hanging in brightly colored, plastic packages—still holding my hand.
        I stood in front of the wall of memory and scanned the numbers—the prices as well as the capacities.  I had long ago memorized the conversion from Yen into Dollars.  I had also grown accustomed to the ridiculously low prices of some electronics in Tokyo.
        “This one should do the job,” I said, selecting the one-gigabyte SIM with the lowest price.  I checked the specs on the back of the package and looked to Kitsune. “Kitsune-san wa dou desu ka?” What about you?
        He smiled at me for a second and brought our hands up into sight. “Kitsu-kun, deshou.”
        I blinked back at him.  He was asking me to speak to him in an informal, friendly way, to use a nickname.  It was traditionally horribly impolite to speak that way to someone you just met.  Thinking back, I realized that he had called me “Jeeni-chan” earlier, in the same informal way.  I guess I hadn’t noticed because I was freaking out.
        I felt my mouth sneak into a slight grin. “Dou?” I asked again. Well?
        “Ano hen ni aru,” he said, leading me towards the optical specialty section.  We stopped in front of a huge glass case that was filled with camera lenses of every imaginable design.  Some of them priced in the hundreds of dollars, while other flew into the thousands and beyond.
        He stared at them critically for few minutes, paying most attention to the higher range lenses.  A store clerk in a bright red vest bejeweled with buttons walked up to us and asked if we needed any help.  Kitsune didn’t look up at the man but pointed out one of the lenses with a price that was more than my rent for two months.  The clerk wrote down the number and bowed to Kitsune, gesturing for us to follow him to a kiosk off to one side of the camera displays.
        The clerk logged into a computer in the kiosk and passed the note to another employee with a terse order.   While he fed numbers into the computer, Kitsune gave me a small smile before retrieving his hand from mine.  I tried to look like it was no big deal, honest I did.  As the other employee returned with a small cardboard box, Kitsune pulled the chained black leather wallet out of his back pocket.
        The clerk checked the box number and quoted the price.  Kitsune pulled out the money in cash and handed it over.  I swear, I’ll never get used to the amount of cash these people walk around with…
        The clerk glanced at my SIM card. “Ishouni?” Together?
        Kitsune nodded instantly. “It is faster, deshou,” he shot to me.
        Before I knew it, the transaction was done, the lens and my SIM card had disappeared into a shopping bag, and Kitsune had taken my hand again, leading us back to the escalators.  We were back on the bottom floor in a matter of minutes.  Kitsune’s speed faltered once the crowds thickened again.
        “Are we done?” I asked him.
        “Nigitai,” he answered with a nod, declaring his wish to flee.
        “Iko,” I said brightly, hoping it would help.
        Kitsune took a bracing breath as I lead us into the stream and to the doors.  We burst out into the sunlight again and right into the sea of people outside.  Once again I fished this way and that, cutting a path through the currents.  It felt like we broke out of the crowd and into the station in less time than before.  I continued to pull Kitsune into the station, and back to the ticket machines outside the short metal gates.  An empty spot opened up beside a stand of free advertisements and we both slipped into it to catch our breath.
        Kitsune looked back the way we’d come. “Sugoi…  Jozu desu yo!” he said, commending my crowd working skills.
        I giggled at him. “I have to go to Shibuya a lot.”
        “Nanahudo.” I see…
        “So, about that card…” I toned softly.
        “Hai, hai,” he said quickly with a jerk of realization, retrieving it from the bag for me.
        I took it with a nod and slipped it into my purse, taking out the money it should have cost.
        Kitsune waved a hand. “Ii yo…”
        “No way,” I said offering him the cash. “Take it.  Please.”
        He hesitated, but complied. “Demo… you saved me.  I owe you,” he added, drifting closer with a killer smirk.
        I shook my head. “Tanoshikatta.” That was fun.
        “So?” he asked, still close, speaking softly.
        I turned quickly to look at the huge train system map above the ticket machines.
        He gave a quiet sigh. “Ima, doko iku no?” Where are you going now?
        “Home, I guess,” I answered, pretending I didn’t already know the map by heart.  I guess…  Why did I say that?  That was a stupid thing to say.  I shouldn’t have said that.
        “Unn…?” he toned thoughtfully.
        Crap.
        “I’m going to Harajuku,” he said innocently. “To take pictures,” he added, holding up the bag for a second.  “It is a beautiful place, you know.”
        I nodded, keeping my eyes on the map for dear life.  Harajuku…  I shuttered.  If Tokyo is the motherland of all the beautiful boys in the world, then Harajuku is the capital: Pretty Boy City.  I’d only been there twice in the year that I’d been living in Tokyo.  Both times it had been with a crowd of friends to protect me.  “A beautiful place” … that was the understatement to end all understatements.
        “You could come wi—“ he began slickly.
        “Muri,” I declared instantly.  Impossible.
        “Eh?” he blinked, surprised.  “Boku wa … yoku nai no…?” Literally: I’m not good?
        I closed my eyes and shook he head.  I took a breath. “Kowai.”
        “Why scared?” he asked softly.
        “Bishonen ga,” I answered.  I’m afraid of beautiful boys.
        He laughed at me.
        I pouted at him. “It’s not funny…”
        He pressed a hand to his perfect lips to hold in his giggles, looking back to me in pitiful glee.
        “Oh shut up,” I muttered, looking away.
        “No, no,” he said, taking both of my hands in his, forcing me to look at him. “I’m sorry,” he said, his face still beaming from laughter. “But, it’s okay.  We can go together.”
        “That’s cute,” I said through force sweetness. “Remember what I told you about cute?”
        “Don’t worry,” he said, moving a little closer. “I will not let the…” he paused, looking for the words, “the pretty boys get you.”
        I frowned at him.  “Kitsu-kun WA bishonen desu yo.” You ARE a beautiful boy!
        His smile turned a shade wicked, but he blinked it away. “Best to protect you!”
        I let out a whimper and dropped my eyes to the ground.  I could feel myself loosing again.  Worse than that, I knew I liked it.  I wanted to go with him.  I wanted to see the land of the hotness on the arm of one of their finest.  But it was ridiculous.  I didn’t belong there and I knew it.  Ridiculous can never last.  I’d be left alone again for sure, certainly still in love.
        “Daijoubu yo,” he said softly, closer still. “Hitori janai.” It’s okay, you’re not alone. “Iko?”
        He seemed to get a perverse joy out of mimicking me.  I opened my eyes to find him smiling softly into them.  The last shreds of my battered will began to snap.  I felt my breath rush in.  I felt my lips part.  I felt myself speak, and I could do nothing to stop any of it.
        “Okay.”
        His face brightened into a wide grin, his thin black eyes sparkling.  My heart skipped a beat.  As I watched, unable to stop it, he moved to a ticket machine and bought two tickets to Harajuku.  We were walking back to the platform with the crowd of travelers, his hand holding mine once again.  The train was coming.  He smiled at me reassuringly.  I felt reassured.  Crap.