Tokyo, Shinjuku, the city that never sleeps.
I had a drink in Shinjuku and missed the last train.
I wandered around the backstreets and tried to sleep in a park.
An old man wearing a stomach wrap came up to me and asked me for some money.
Naturally I refused, but then two other people blocked my way.
One of them was middle-aged, short, with a grim face, and the other was younger and taller.
The other, younger and taller, was a typical yakuza: “What are you doing in my territory, give us the money!
The gutters were gone.
This time I knew I couldn’t get away, so I looked in my wallet.
There was only 5,000 yen.
I said, “I can’t go home without this money.
Then, to my surprise, he told me to go to the Odenya there and change some money.
To my surprise, they said they would give me taxi fare.
I gave them 3,000 yen and they looked happy.
If you have any problems in Shinjuku, just tell them about K.
I’ve got some methamphetamine too, so call me later, they said, and left in the dark.
I wondered if the yakuza were in financial trouble too, if they could get their hands on Katagi (an ordinary person).
I wondered if the bellyband and the two guys from earlier were friends.
I took a taxi home for 2,000 yen, but I was able to actually experience the big play for 3,000 yen.
I wonder how Mr. K of the group is doing now.
It was 20 years ago, so he must be about 70 years old now.
But Tokyo is a scary place.
I decided not to go near the narrow streets near Shinjuku station anymore.
I felt that Shinjuku is a town where you can buy anything if you have enough money.
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