‘How long?’ the young assistant behind the counter asked.

Shoji glanced at the price list. ‘Eight hours. I’d like a private cubicle with a reclining chair.’

The assistant handed Shoji a small clipboard with his booth number. Shoji went to look for his designated cube. Walking through a tiny corridor under the bright lights, he passed rows of doors with shoes in front of them.

Booth twenty-three was tiny, but the chair looked comfortable. A computer occupied most of the space on the desk. Cigarette smell lingered in the air, which made him want to smoke, but he’d finished his pack and couldn’t be bothered to go out to get another. Shoji took off his watch and placed it next to the keyboard. The time showed a quarter past midnight. Shoving his rucksack under the table, he turned off the computer screen and adjusted his seat. Despite the room’s size, he managed to get the chair to recline fully without touching the door. He closed his eyes, enveloped by muffled audio and the sound of people snoring.

•

Loud laughter woke Shoji in the middle of the night. He stared at the strip light on the ceiling, wondering for a moment where he was. Ah, that’s right. The internet café. He checked the time. It was half past three.

Seeping through the door, the sound of footsteps came and went. Shoji tried to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t. He exited his cubicle. A man in office attire came out of the cubicle next to his at the same time. Shoji followed him, guessing correctly that the salaryman was heading for the complimentary drinks.

A small table had been placed at the corner of the room, on top of which was a water dispenser, a Thermos flask, a tray filled with instant coffee and tea, and three stacks of paper cups. Shoji took a cup and filled it with water.

‘Excuse me.’ The salaryman he’d followed — a man in scruffy white shirt and black trousers — was standing next to him. ‘You’re Arai, aren’t you?’

Feeling tense, Shoji looked closely at the salaryman. The man was short and round in the middle. Was he being followed? Could this man have been sent after him? ‘Sorry, you are …’

‘I’m Yoshioka. We were both in the journalism club at Waseda, remember?’

‘Ah, yes,’ Shoji said, finally placing him.

The man gave him a warm smile. ‘I saw you walking in here.’ He laughed. ‘I happened to be looking for a place to rest, so I came in too.’

Yoshioka had been a senior member of his university journalism club. When Shoji had entered as a freshman, he was in his third year. Yoshioka dropped out shortly afterwards, so they didn’t spend a lot of time together, but they did speak once or twice.

‘What a place to spend the night, eh? Did you miss the last train too?’ Yoshioka asked, making himself a cup of coffee.

Shoji hesitated for a moment. ‘I moved out of town after graduation. I just returned to Tokyo this evening, and I haven’t found a place to stay yet.’