Chasing Haruka


Japan rushes past at three miles a minute and I can’t focus on an inch of it. We’ve just screamed out of Tokyo’s outskirts in the white blur of an early morning shinkansen, tearing away from the high rise metropoland of arcades and karaoke bars and barely-legal brothels that I’ve come to call my home.

The already distant peak of Fuji-san is the only thing I can look at without getting nauseous.

Kurosawa is sitting opposite me, glassy eyed as his absent gaze is cast over the paddy fields that are disappearing before I’ve even registered their existence. The two of us, along with Su and Dalton, are in a first class cabin at the front of the train courtesy of Kenji’s badge. Strictly unprofessional from a man I’ve come to expect nothing but absolute integrity from, but welcome nevertheless.

Dalton is next to me, his head dangerously close to my shoulder as he slips in and out of consciousness. Su’s already there and then some, sprawled awkwardly over the opposite seat, her head resting in Kurosawa’s lap.

There’s been only silence in the cabin since Dalton’s final anecdote about a rape victim who bit back (“…she couldn’t breathe and it certainly wasn’t being taken out of her mouth any time soon, so…”) and that was back in the station. But with only Kenji and myself awake, I’m not surprised at the lack of conversation. Regardless of the language barrier, I have my suspicions that Kurosawa doesn’t like me. I think he perceives me in much the same way Clarence views Alabama’s pimp in True Romance; I am the only thing standing in the way of Suzette’s lost innocence, and he hates me for it. The piece on his belt adds threat to this theory.

If I may be so puerile: gulp!


~ by Joseph Blame on July 21, 2010.

One Response to “Chasing Haruka”

  1. […] initial confrontation in Slow Day in the Womb and the start of a mad dash across Japan in Chasing Haruka. It’ll all pull together one […]

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