tokuon

I turned to the left and stepped onto the escalator on the right side so I began climbing the steps — an obligation by custom in this part of the country. Though most of the crowd was ahead of me, enough people stood behind me that I could feel the pressure of expectation prodding me forward. And besides, there was my watcher. I would not be rid of him, but I wanted as much distance between us as possible. I had neither need nor desire for confrontation.

I emerged from the subway tunnels and underground passageways of Ginza. Beside me as I reached street level was the Le Doutor Cafe, a sterilizing attempt by the nation’s largest franchise coffee chain to appeal to the district’s luxury. Across the street stood the symbol of Ginza, the Wako Clock Tower overlooking the main intersection and the elegance of the famed store display of the Wako Department Store. Visitors from across Japan would pause to photograph themselves in front of it, then walk on without ever stepping inside the store itself. That is, unless they didn’t know any better or were among the privileged few who could afford the wares inside. At least, this was my image of the establishment, never having set foot in it myself.

The sun was blazing above and I would rather have avoided it if I could. I often wondered how far one could walk through those subterranean thoroughfares without ever emerging into daylight. But the truth was, those endless passageways beneath Ginza’s streets were disorienting. I needed to be in the daylight, on street level, where landmarks and familiar stores could point me in the right direction. This unfortunately meant walking in the sun and summer heat though the shade of the district’s veins was much less oppressing. The clock tower told me that it was just past 3:30 pm. Only a few hours left till dusk.