Akki sucks hard on a post-dinner cigarette with a loathing hiss. “Fuckin’ gaijin. Never would’ve thought humans could be any worse.”

Hino holds back a snort. “Does your minion not count?”

“’Course not! The kid ain’t … well, he ain’t no regular human. Ain’t many that can walk through dreams. Least, not like he can. Kid’s got a gift, hafu or not. That puts him way above humans. ’Specially these assholes. This country needs to throw a fuckin’ wrench into whatever conveyor belt keeps bringin’ ’em in. How’d everythin’ go to shit so fast? All these years it’s been like watchin’ a slow jinrikisha wreck. I don’t get it. We’d always had it made until they showed up. Solid food, soothin’ music, nice tight milky-skinned women who knew how to keep their mouths shut … and, of course, we had the samurai. How did this country decide to give all that up?”

Hino scoots deeper into the booth so she can lean her chin against her hand and look out the window next to their table. “You are forgetting about all the things this country has retained, Akki. More than that, you are talking about a planet with seven billion people. ‘Foreign’ influence is inevitable. Everything is so interconnected that even in Japan there are things that people do not realize are from other countries and influences, and people seem to love them fine.”

Akki glares at her. “Bullshit. Name two.”

Hino’s eyes flicker to Akki’s whiskey sour glass; she overturns her initial response. “Tempura. Coffee. May I go on?”

Akki gives her a nasty snarl. That had been his first dinner, no more than two hours ago, fresh from the Lawson trash bins. He thought, of all people, she would be the one to agree with him. “I already regret bringin’ this shit up with you.”

“The point is, if we as a nation want to keep up with the rest of the world, we must hold together, work through our ideals, and get used to change. We must find solutions, not add to problems with our stubborn determinations. We must not think of Japan as ‘going to hell’ just because things are not as they once were. There are many things that we have held onto, as well. You would not believe how many traditions have been lost in other lands … how much history has been corrupted, the number of races that have gone extinct.” Hino’s eyes flicker downward with a hint of sadness. “We are very lucky, Akki. You would do well to remember that.”

Akki makes a grunt of slight approval. “This might be the most I’ve ever heard you say since Nagasaki. Where’d you get all that shit?”

Hino does not remove her gaze from a nearby window as she answers: “Japanese history teacher.”

“Far out. How is he?”

“Delicious.” She spins her shades on the table. “Sometimes I think about how lucky we yokai are. Still venerated. We have not been reduced to annual Halloween costumes or anime or cartoons on cereal boxes yet. Count your blessings, Akki.”