We stopped, the mass of people before us wasn’t moving. I rose on my toes to get a better view and saw a line of tourists and locals forming in front of one of the shops ahead, blocking the already slow movement of the crowd that flowed through the street.

“Do you see anything? Why aren’t the people moving? Oh, is the line for Satsuma-imo…”

My stare lowered to K. “W-what?” Distracted by all the commotion on the lively and not particularly wide street, lined on both sides with small shops selling all kinds of traditional souvenirs, snacks, and sweets, I had a hard time following our conversation.

“Sweet potato shop. It’s well known. Huh, I wanted to buy it too.” K tapped her foot on the floor impatiently.

“Suppose, we could wait—“

“Nope, the line is way too long.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry…” A woman sounding and looking British apologized as she pushed past me toward the shop with beautifully painted folding fans. I felt two other bodies brushing against me, both hurrying in the same direction. I shuddered, not liking one bit the proximity of so many people, many of whom were foreigners on a shopping spree.

But that was not the only reason I was so distracted. Since we walked from the deserted street where we left the car into this colourful madness, each time I looked at K, I thought of the scar on her back. I couldn’t stop wondering what could have caused it; in what kind of situation she put herself to get a scar like that. I was certain it was a cut, whether done by a knife, or some other type of blade… maybe a sword? She trained with the swords but surely they wouldn’t practise with the real ones. I remembered the wooden stick she brought with her on that day by the pond. No, I shook my head mentally, cannot be that some freaky incident like that could’ve happened at the training. Besides, it was on her back, somebody did that on purpose. That thought was even more disturbing.

The crowd started to move and we were pushed with it at a slow, lazy pace.

”I just can’t believe that this is your first time in Asakusa…how long have you been in Japan?” K asked.

“Umm….I arrived in April, so about three months,” I replied absently.

K’s demeanour had changed with the change of her clothes. The deep sadness that permeated her before was removed together with her kimono, and K in the black pants, with a t-shirt, and the short leather jacket, was once again the K I was used to. I thought I’d prefer it that way, but for some reason, it now felt like our relationship regressed and that something was missing.

“Why are looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?” she asked me.

I cut my subconscious stare at her short. “No, no…it’s nothing…So what’s here, apart from the many shops?”

“Oh…Asakusa is a very old, entertainment district with a long history. It existed already during the Edo period. Oh look, kawaii!”

She dashed off, disappearing amongst the people. Horrified of being swallowed by the crowd all by myself I rushed after her, now being the one bumping into innocent people that happened to be on my way. As soon as I spotted her in one of the shops, I slowed down and navigated through the remaining crowd with more patience and tact. Her face beaming with excitement, K was examining the merchandise in one of the silliest shops I’d ever seen. Its shelves were stuffed with all kinds of miniature dolls, cartoon characters, and animals, all of them shaking heads. Being so many and all shaking their tiny heads they provided a mesmerizing, bizarre sight. Kitsch at its best.

Not quite understanding K’s fascination with it, I waited patiently while she went through the bobbing heads, moving from one shelf to another with share enthusiasm. In the end, she chose two characters, a pink bunny, and a cat.

After we left the shop she lifted the cat at me. “Presento for you!” A big grin on her face accompanied her gesture.

I stared with wide eyes at the cat’s bobbing head and its waving paw. The bloody thing ran on solar power but even though the sun had already set, it shook like there was no tomorrow. “Umm…for me?”

K nodded and pushed the cat in my hand. “It’s maneki neko – it brings good luck.”

“Thanks,” I uttered, unsure of what to do or think about such an unexpected gift.

Continuing on the street we arrived at a huge, two-story gate, painted in red. Three massive paper lanterns hung in-between the pillars of the gate, the central one red, the other two gold and black. On either side of the gate stood two frightening demon statutes that were at least five meters tall. Many people stopped at the gate and took photos.

“Wow, what are those?” I pointed my finger at the statutes.

“They are called Nio. They are the guardian deities of the Buddha. This temple, the Senso-ji, is the oldest in Tokyo. Come, let’s enter.”

Once we walked through the gate into the inner complex the buzz of the crowd died down, as if respectful of the sanctity of the place. The main temple hall with its very tall, dramatically sloping roof and a five-storey pagoda, which was also within the precincts, were both an impressive sight. I expected we would enter the main hall but K led me to a counter on the side of the inner courtyard instead.

She handed me a hundred yen coin and pointed at the coin slot on the counter. “Take this and insert it inside the hole here.”

I did so, shrugging skeptically.

“Now take one of these and shake it.”

Getting amused by the whole thing, I followed her instructions and took a silver canister from the shelf on the counter. I started shaking it as if I was making a cocktail.

“Don’t make fun. This is a serious matter,” she said, smiling.

“Oh, I’m very serious, can’t you see how seriously I’m shaking this…whatever this is…” I said trying not to laugh.

A stick suddenly popped out of the small opening. “Huh, look at this—“ Before I had a chance to examine it she took it from my hand and checked the symbol on the stick. Then she went over the small wooden drawers on the counter, checking the symbols on them.

An eerie feeling that we were watched crept up on me and I looked around the temple premises. Casual visitors strolled around leisurely, admiring the buildings or taking photos, a few teenage kids stood not far from us giggling and chatting, a group of tourists stood in a circle near the stairs that led to the main hall and listened to their guide. Nothing suspicious.

“Found it!” K exclaimed, reclaiming my attention. She opened the drawer on the far left and took out a piece of paper.

“What is this, mmm?”

Reading with interest the words on that paper she didn’t reply.

“K? What does it say?”

Her eyes smiling she gave me the piece of paper. “This is omikuji, it..umm..predicts your fortune…or bad luck.”

I started reading the smaller part of the text, which was written in English.

“You received regular fortune,” she explained.

“Regular fortune?” I frowned. “What on earth is regular fortune?

“It’s a good thing. You should keep this omikuji.”

“When spring comes, all trees and grasses are in full bloom. Everything will go good, then you will be happier in the future,” I read part of it out loud. “Does that mean I have to wait till spring?”

A sardonic grin twisted her lips. “Perhaps… perhaps it refers to this spring when you came to Japan. Don’t you think you have been lucky since then?”

“Not exactly how I would put it, but…don’t know, maybe…” I met her eyes and we both smiled.

She inserted another coin in the slot. This time she shook the canister and picked the omikuji. She read it, chuckling softly and shaking her head. In the end, she folded the paper with a deep sigh.

“Is it that bad?”

Without answering she walked to the tree nearby and tied the paper around one of its branches. “Come, it’s time to eat something,” she said upon her return.

We left the sacred premises and walked into an area west of the temple. The small narrow streets there, although still quite crowded, had a calmer vibe compared to the shopping street we were on earlier. There were mostly restaurants and artisan shops with clothing, pottery, or other similar products.

K stopped in front of one such shop. It looked closed, but an older man was still seen inside, tidying up the shop. She knocked on the door and the man opened it. They bowed deeply to each other and after exchanging a few words, he invited us inside. It was a pottery shop slash studio, with cups, tea pots, and plates displayed on the shelves and a working niche with unfinished products from clay.

Shin appeared from the back room wiping his hands in the thick, green apron he wore over his black clothes. His eyes above the black mask smiled when he saw K but immediately turned serious and slightly annoyed when he noticed me.

“Oh hi, Shin. So this is where you work?” I asked looking around cheerfully.

His stare moved from me back to K, who said something in Japanese and to which he replied with a nod.

K bowed once again to the old man and exited the shop. I bowed too but as he bowed back I bowed once again, unsure of whether he or I should be the last one to depart with the bow. He did the same and so we continued bowing to each other until I was finally out of the shop.

K snorted. “What was that all about?”

“Yeah, fuck…I don’t know…I was just trying to be polite…” I shook my head, chuckling. “By the way, Sunny told me that Shin is making pottery but I just couldn’t imagine him in this role. Now… I can.”

K nodded thoughtfully as we continued down the street. “And he’s very good at it. His boss, the old man you bowed to a hundred times, is a well-known master.”

“Good then that I bowed last. Shin didn’t look very happy to see me. Why did we go there anyway?”

“I just told him we’re gonna be at the Izakaya nearby…in case he wants to join us later.”

“Izakaya?”

“A pub…more like a restaurant. Anyway, it’s that one over there.”

“Okay,” I said, although not particularly looking forward having silent Shin as a company. “Will you call Sunny too?”

“No, Sunny is busy with tutoring this evening.”

We entered into a very traditional-looking setting and sat on tatami mats at a low table. K ordered a beer for both. I refused at first, but seeing her disappointed face I gave in and decided to break from Sueno san’s instructions just this once.

While K chatted about the history of the place I was finishing off one appetizer after another: edamame first, then pickled cucumbers, grilled fish, and so on. We both sipped our beer, and while K ate less and drank more, I did the opposite. When the main dish - the grilled chicken arrived, she ordered sake and I was still working on my first beer.

I knew she was getting drunk, but considering the day I decided not to say anything. The least I could do was to keep her company.

“Something’s on your mind. You’ve been staring at me weirdly today,” she said, the third glass of sake starting to show in her voice.

“It’s nothing.“ I sank my teeth into the skewered chicken. The food was truly delicious.

She pressed her glass to her cheek and eyed me. “Right, nothing…” Chuckling she emptied the glass while I cleared the plate.

“You finished?”

I nodded with satisfaction and leaned backward on my arms, my stomach completely full.

“Now we go some place else…”

“Where to?” I asked, noticing in her a sudden surge of energy.

“You’ll see…surprise…”

K paid for everything. Coming out of the Izakaya she took a deep breath and stretched her arms above her head. Then, rushing me along, she strode into the street.

We walked for quite some time and while the streets were getting emptier the people we came across were drunker. From time to time I looked over my shoulder, some odd feeling pestering me. K led us into a building with a pachinko parlour on the ground floor. We passed unnoticed through the incredibly loud place of blinking neon lights and people of different ages fully devoted to the pachinko machines. The elevator at the end of the parlour took us to a nightclub on the 5th floor.

We hit the bar first. With most guests on the dance floor, I sat on one of the many free stools, while K ordered drinks standing up, all the while swaying at the music. I was shocked by how bad the singer was until it dawned on me, as he was replaced for the next song by an even worse one, that we were in a karaoke bar.

Fancy-looking cocktails were placed before us, kindling a sparkle of delight in K’s eyes. With a straw in her mouth and closed eyes closed she savoured the colourful liquid. As a new melody played her face lit up with excitement. She and a few others began singing along to a Japanese pop song, which the lady with the karaoke mic sang very obviously out of tune.

Smiling, I took a cursory look around. With only about a dozen guests on the dance floor and a few more at the bar, the place had a rather sad, empty look. The bad singing and an interior reminding of an old disco club didn’t do it any favours. The next guest to sing was a man in his forties dressed like a company employee. He chose an English hit song from the 80s and while he captured the melody quite decently, I couldn’t understand a single word of the lyric due to his heavy accent and mispronunciation. It was all so bizarre and funny that I couldn’t decide whether I was thoroughly amused or I wanted to go home. But K was definitely having fun, showing her appreciation for the karaoke singer with surprisingly good dancing moves.

“Isn’t this place cool?” she shouted at me through the loud music.

“It is…something…” I shouted back, thinking of how different she was now compared to a few hours earlier. She came closer to me and stood next to my stool.

“Ok, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing…go....enjoy yourself...”

“Tell me!” she leaned in and looked me straight in the eyes without blinking.

Pressing my lips together I held out my hand, palm up. “Ok, fine. Your scar on the back.”

Her face changed. “How do you---“ She discontinued her question and nodded her head several times. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?” Her sentence carried a tone of sarcasm.

“Nietzsche, ha?” I squinted at her in a playful manner. “What was it that almost killed you, then?”

She waved her hand in front of my face and scoffed. “No, that is not what’s important, the important thing if that is that I survived.” Again there was mockery in her voice.

“But, I’d like to know,” I said in all sincerity.

She narrowed her eyes and studied me for a moment, probably trying to assess whether I was worthy of an answer. Her lips moved.

“Love,” she said, this time without any particular tone, and left the word hanging in the air between us.

The music stopped, her eyes withdrew from mine and turned towards the karaoke stage. Along with the other guests she voiced her complaints until another lady picked up the mic and a new song started to play. Her singing differed from the previous attempts by being perfectly in tune and as her deep, but gentle voice resonated through the bar the guests applauded. It was another popular song in a light reggae rhythm, which K seemed to know too. For a few initial verses she backed up the singer with her singing, deviating a great deal from the melody, then she grabbed my arm and started pulling me towards the dance floor.

“No, no, no…I don’t dance,” I shouted and stalled her pull, but her hand would not let go of mine until we were both standing on the dance floor. Only about six other people were dancing in our proximity, most of them swaying in a drunken way with no sense for rhythm and occasionally cheering the singer on the karaoke stage. Still holding my hand in hers, K began to dance. Her movements were smooth and slightly provocative. Bright spots from the large disco ball above the dance floor were strewn over her face while her eyes watched me with a flirtatious spark, which I ascribed to her drunken state.

“You gave my life to me, set me free, you set me free...” she sang loudly making me laugh. “Come on move a bit…a good fighter should know how to dance…it’s all about the rhythm…”

With me not bulging, she unexpectedly closed the distance between us, took both of my arms and put them across her lower back. Her hands were suddenly on my shoulders and she leaned into my grasp.

“I would give everything I own, give up my life my heart my home…” She sang, consuming me with her green eyes, which were now looking up at me from a very close distance. Something in her gaze touched me and tickled my soul. I tightened my clasp over her back and began swaying slowly with her. When she leaned her head on my chest, my stomach fluttered

”I would give everything I own just to have you back again….just to have you back again…” She was more mumbling the words than singing. Gazing down at her, I realized that in her mind I wasn’t anymore the person she was dancing with. Her eyes had a look of being turned inwardly, away from the present and back into a past only she knew, and her words were muttered under her breath with a detached, nostalgic tone. The sharp disappointment I felt at that moment came unexpectedly, but I nevertheless kept her in my embrace until the song finished. She separated from me, looking a little embarrassed and not knowing what to do next. “Well…I’m…gonna go…” She pointed her finger at the counter, giving me an awkward, apologetic smile, and then sauntered away.

“K, I think we should leave,” I said when I came after her.

“Already?” She scrunched her forehead and gave a pleading look. “I thought we were going to sing…Don’t you want to sing?”

I shook my head and smiled. “No, not really.” No fucking way even if you’d pay me.

“Okay,” she agreed and gulped down a cocktail as if her life depended on it.

Once out on the street, K headed off claiming she knew a shortcut to the car. The streets we walked into indeed resembled the one we left the car in – an empty area with shabby warehouses -- but the parking lot was nowhere to be found. Loitering around for a while I began to have doubts about K’s sense of direction. Her behaviour got me worried. She wasn't staggering, but she wasn't walking exactly a straight line either, pausing often by one warehouse or another with no real purpose. When a gust of wind blew an iron door open, smashing it against the concrete wall of the building, she shrieked like a mad man and then burst into laughter. I hurried her along, wanting to get to the car as soon as possible. The empty street with its neglected appearance gave me a bad vibe. Just as I cursed the damn parking lot, which was nowhere in sight, the sound of several motorcycles shattered the quietness of the street.

K covered her eyes with her hand and squinted at the headlights directed at us. “Bosozuku…pheww…”

“Biker gang,” she added, seeing my bewildered stare. With unfathomable excitement, she turned her stare upon a dozen thugs on customized bikes. “They must be here for me. Somebody sent them and I’m gonna beat their asses.”

The lead biker unsaddled his motorcycle and stepped out of the glare of the headlights, making himself visible.

“No,” I said, dead calm settling inside me. ”They are here for me.”