The man drops my arm abruptly. In the blink of an eye he’s several feet away, up the street, heading toward a brightly lit building with pictures of pale-skinned women all over its marquee. He’s talking to someone crouching down on the ground. I catch a glimpse of black hair and pale skin before the man blocks my view. That is definitely not my sister. He’s babbling in Japanese; there’s an urgency in his voice. I catch a few words … something about how he’s been looking everywhere for whoever he’s talking to, and if they can go to a hotel now.

“Um, hey, buddy? You said …”

I trail off. He’s talking to a young girl. She wears a dark blue blazer, a black-and-white plaid skirt that exposes her shockingly pale thighs and knees bent over a pair of blood-red Converse sneakers. Her hair is so long it almost touches the filthy pavement she squats down on. Her long fingers jab expertly on a heavily laden keitai, even as she rises. She snaps the phone shut and turns to face me, oblivious to the man ranting so fast I can barely understand half of it. My heart feels like it’s been submerged in ice water.

“Hisa-bisa, baku-sama,” the girl says. Her voice is quite deep. “Do you know what that means?”

This is getting weird. I shake my head. Hisa-bisa, of course, I understand, but baku? I wonder if it means the same as “baka” and start to feel offended.

“‘Hisa-bisa’?!” the salaryman barks in Japanese. “What the hell you talking about?! We just saw each other ten minutes ago!” He staggers on his feet as if copious amounts of alcohol in his veins have resumed their course. His entire tone and rhythm of speech has changed so much it’s like he was possessed by the ghost of a sober, smooth-talking American who has now relinquished his body. “Okay, if you don’t want to go to a hotel, let me try to sneak you in again! The bouncer’s gone, and everyone’s so wasted they won’t even notice. Shit, why the hell’d you have to show up in your uniform, anyway?!” He ruffles his hair angrily, and sighs when the girl doesn’t respond. She’s still staring at me. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m just so horny. Why don’t we go to a nice warm hotel, instead of hanging out around here?”

The girl freezes him with a “talk-to-the-hand” kind of gesture. “I apologize for this one. As I was saying. ‘Hisa-bisa.’ Do you know what that means?”

I gulp. I know I should be running back upstairs to the safety of the English bar and my co-workers, but I don’t. “‘Long time, no see.’”