The shoutengai turns out to be very short. I’m more than happy to get back out in the open, away from whoever is playing Metallica at one in the morning. Out here, people huddle against the cold. In the backdrop of cityscape, Tsutenkaku Tower glows neon bright. I follow the main streets in the tower’s direction. As a woman living anywhere, I always make sure to get my bearings. I never know when I’ll have to make a run for the nearest police box. That’s why I remember the tower: Tsutenkaku was my landmark when we got out of the subway station. We walked down this main street — Sakaisuji, according to the signs — for a few minutes. I remember thinking I could go to Spa World if I missed my last train or if he had turned out to be a real creep. If I’m wrong about all this, I can spend the night there and hightail it back to Nishibe first thing in the morning so I’m not late for work. But if I’m right … if I’m right …

Then what?

I shake my head and pick up the pace. I’m not going to think that far ahead right now.

I come out of the alleyway and immediately recognize the pharmacy we must have passed on the way. Hard to forget a name like “Love Drug.” I hurry past its neon glow, farther down the street. There’s a small shrine on the corner. I remember this, too. As I step over several knocked-down trash cans covered in snow, the sound of bamboo knocking against bamboo and trickling water reaches my ears. The noise makes me feel less alone, more courageous, and confident that, when I turn this corner, I’ll find what I’m looking for.

And there it is. The torii gate. But there’s no one here. Why does it feel like someone should be here?

Because I’m about to do something stupid, that’s why.

I walk up to the gate thrown up in the alley between the two squat buildings. I wonder how it even got here. It’s covered in black graffiti, as is every inch of the brick walls on either side. To my left, I try to read the colourful gang symbols and kanji. Everything is scribbles to me except for four white spray-painted characters that I instantly recognize:

自 分 自 身

“Jibun Jishin,” I read. “Myself.” Yourself.

Snow begins to fall now, silent as can be. This is the place. I don’t feel scared at all. Silence means I’m alone.