A man wearing a crisp, white, fully buttoned shirt and a lightweight dark grey suit stepped out of the airport doors, his posture straight, his hands gripped tightly to two brown suitcases (one in each hand), and his hair combed back, looking neat and tidy but not entirely stiff. His face had the open, joyful look of a happy child, creased around the eyes by a grin that revealed his white teeth. He was about twenty-five, of average height and had sharp features. His look was clean-cut, it no doubt stood him out from the rest of the crowd.
Upon leaving the airport, the man immediately stopped after taking two steps, as the sudden rush of men and women overtook him, like an ongoing river. Their shoulders pushed into his, swaying his body around quickly and in unpredictable directions. He tried to not lose his grip as he moved through with the suitcases, but once a larger man bumped into him; it seemed intentionally, he began to lose his grip and at once tripped over, dropping both of the suitcases onto the ground, and hitting his face against the stone surface with a great fall. As he did, a single thought ran through his mind–"This is humiliating"–. It lingered in his mind for a long time, the moment he fell. It would not leave his mind until the next night. The crowd quietened ever so slightly for a moment, and after staring at the scene of the man moved on. He felt the burning pain on his face as he pushed himself up with his palms. His nose hurt the most, and by now he knew it had turned fully red from the hard smack of the pavement, although he could not see it. His entire face had gone red in embarrassment, as he moved on his knees to push the gifts back into the suitcase. Thankfully only one suitcase had cracked open, which made it a lot easier for the man to get back up quickly, not having to shove everything back in the suitcases. Finally, after a minute of scrambling he was on his feet again, his tie re-adjusted and the suitcases in both hands. He walked onwards, making sure to manoeuvre his way through the crowd in a more careful manner this time, and made it to the end of the pavement. Parked taxi cars were lined up one by one, and people were entering them from the left rear every second. The man with the suitcases looked at the endless row of vehicles for a moment then widened his eyes. He placed his bags down slowly, making sure to bend his back down as he did so, then moved up to one of the taxi's windows and knocked on it with his knuckles. The window rolled open. A man in a similar suit as him and a ridiculous pink shirt appeared.
"You want a ride man?"
"Yes…Just let me get my suitcases first…"
The man hurried over to grab them, and then lowering his head in a fast jog, opened the back door, threw the cases onto the seats, and moved over to the left rear in the front. He swung open the door and shut it fast, so fast that his seatbelt was already wrapped around him by the time it shut.
"Woah man calm down! You in a rush?" Said the taxi driver in his pink shirt.
"Not particularly," The man replied, "But I would like to get going."
"Well, where to then?"
"Oh, yes-yes, of course, pardon me…" The man rummaged through his pockets then took out a note, he skimmed through it, reading the address quickly.
"I want to go to…Nakagin Capsule Tower, Ginza 8‑16‑10."
The taxi driver nodded.
"Ok then, that will be two-thousand yen."
"Yes, here…"
The man went through his pockets again, the same way he did last time then held the money in his hand. He counted carefully with his left index finger, muttering the numbers under his breath.
"One-thousand-three-hundred…One-thousand-six-hundred…One-thousand-nine-hundred…Two thousand! Here sir!"
The man poured the money immediately into the taxi driver's pocket, making him jolt back in confusion.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" He said with a shocked expression on his face.
"I'm sorry sir, I'm just quite on edge–excited–you could say…I am going to see someone I have not seen in over ten years now…"
"Wow…Ten years, huh?"
The taxi driver started the car. The engine made a high pitched whirring sound, then a rhythmic sound that could best be described in words as one a loud cricket would make when night fell. Then the sound of a steady rumbling, and the car started to move. It bumped and justled on the heavy street road as it came out of the airport gates.
"You said the capsule tower, yeah?" Asked the taxi driver.
"Yes."
"Good. I've driven there many times before. Nice place...You've been here before? In Tokyo?"
"No, no…Actually I have stayed in only two places my entire life! First in my hometown Nagano, and then recently I moved to Fukuoka, which is very far from home, one thousand and two hundred kilometres…I went there to study journalism."
"So you were quite disconnected from your family then I see! That is certainly a long distance." The taxi driver said.
"Yes…Yes I was. Only my mother lives in Nagano though, the rest are in Tokyo, which is why I am coming here."
"Ahh…Well that's nice…What's your name, by the way?" The taxi driver asked.
"Takumi." The man replied.
"Good name. Mine is Yamada."
"Thats a good name too."
The taxi driver chuckled.
"Yes, thank you. Well, what brings you here to Tokyo only just now? After ten years, you hadn't called in once? Not at any Christmas, not at any autumn, spring, summer?"
"I don't know…"
"You don't know? You don't know why you didn't see the rest of your family for ten years? Where you too poor to take the trip?"
"Yes, we were too poor." Takumi replied quickly, like he wanted to get the words out of his mouth before they poisoned him.
"By the looks of your suit you don't look that poor…"
"I would rather not talk about this, Yamada." Takumi looked out the window, gazing at the city they had driven deeper into now. It was evening, and the sun was settling calmly, casting the sky an almost pinkish red glow. The grey clouds hung before it, their dullness contrasting to the vivid life of the molten sphere. The sight took Takumi's mind back to his home with his mother, it had sunsets even better than this quite often, and he tried as much as he could to watch those ones settle with his mother on the benches in the town. That was something Nagano had that Fukuoka didn't. A nice sunset.
"Are you meeting your family in the Capsule Tower?" The taxi driver suddenly said, breaking Takumi out of his mind.
"No, I'm meeting them somewhere else, tomorrow. This is just a place to stay for a couple of days. Three."
"Three!" The taxi driver said, not yelling but instead raising his voice steadily.
"Three days is all you have after ten years without seeing them!?"
"I think that is a perfect amount of time Yamada."
"Perfect? In my opinion sir, it's far from it. There are only so many things you can talk about in the span of seventy-two hours. Why can't you stay longer?"
"Well, I have things to do, and so do they. We will meet again, I'm sure of it."
"You better, man. Because if I was you, I would be doing the most I could to try and stay longer. Minimum would be a week! Because if you keep yourself locked up in Fukuoka doing your journalism you'll eventually forget quite soon after that you had even been to see your family! Three days will just get smudged into one big painting of your whole life, and then you'll forget about them."
Takumi suddenly felt rage at what Yamada had just said, and he realised that all of what he was saying was far too personal.
"How the hell would you know that! You know nothing about my family and what lengths I have gone too to reach them, sir."
Yamada smiled an ironic smile.
"Yes, yes, you are right. I'm sorry Takumi. This is a bad habit I have–getting too interested in something that is not my business I mean."
Takumi shook his head and closed his eyes.
"No…I'm sorry…" He managed to mutter.
"I'm sorry, Yamada, for getting mad. After all, you were just interested, like you said. I am just stressed in all honesty, and excited too. I wouldn't normally act like this, I mean–you know…"
"It's no bother whatsoever sir." Yamada's face was relaxed. It gave off a tone of forgiveness, and Tukumi's face went pale at the realisation Yamada was just trying to help. A deep regret stirred inside of him.
"You were right to get mad." Yamada added, much quieter now.
They both went silent. Takumi thought. "I was right to get mad?' No. No, I was not. And yet…Why did people favor me like this, extend forgiveness so easily? Why would this stranger, who had known me no more than five minutes, not retaliate at my snappy reply? Perhaps…Perhaps it was not favor at all. Perhaps it was patience. Patience, or indifference—he did not know, and yet he bore no grudge. I knew he was in the wrong, yes, certainly—I should not have lashed out. But still, he had gone too far. He couldn't help it though… like he said. Damn it!"
Without intending to, Takumi brought his thoughts out in a physical manner. He hit the door with his fist.
"Woah, what are you doing there sir?" Yamada asked.
"Sorry, I'm really sorry Yamada…" Takumi replied.
"Are you okay Takumi sir? You don't seem well."
"I know, you're right…Like I said, just nervous."
"Right…Well here we are!"
Just then Takumi became aware of his surroundings. For a short moment he had forgotten that he was in a taxi, on his way to his living space for the next three days.
"Oh, already?" Takumi blurted out, looking outside the window.
"Yes, already. Well, Takumi, you should get your cases now!"
Takumi ignored what Yamada had said and started searching his pockets again. Yamada, not saying a word, stared attentively at Takumi's face. It had turned pale ever since he had lashed out at Yamada. Takumi's hand moved over to Yamada again. It was making a sort of claw shape and shaking ever so slightly. Another one-thousand yen was in Takumi's palm.
"Take it. For my rudeness."
"You were not rude at all Takumi sir!"
"Yes I was, you know I was. You were just making small talk."
"No, what I was doing was invading. I got too invested in your story Takumi!"
Yamada pushed Takumi's hand away as he said this, making some coins fall out. Takumi bent down to pick them up and then moved his hand closer again. His face was wild with expression.
"Just take it Yamada."
"No. I refuse. You need this, to use when with your family."
And Yamada pushed the hand away again. Takumi frowned and lowered his head. He pushed his coins back in his pocket and opened up the car door. (much slower than when he had come in).
"Thank you for being nice company, Yamada. You are a good man."
"Goodbye Takumi. I hope you have a good time with your family."
Takumi slammed the front door and took his suitcases out of the back. Yamada kept his eyes on the front. He did not see Takumi until he had walked into his view, and into the capsule tower. Only then did Yamada begin to drive off again, but what he had failed to notice, and what he would only notice when it had gone dark, was that Takumi had slipped another two-thousand yen in the back seat before he left.
It was a vast, open clearing. The ground was a white, clear marble which looked very nice compared to the pavement over at the airport. There were many plants; that was the second thing Takumi observed. In every corner there was a plant, and three more in the gaps between each one. Then he saw the wooden chairs, which rested beside the plants, and then the couches, which were made up of what looked to be some sort of black fabric, and sat at the middle left and right of the clearing. In the middle, there was the wide but thin reception desk that had a bell to call for the clerk (who was not there at the moment) and two vases filled with flowers. They were perfectly symmetrical to each other, Takumi noticed. This was the lobby. Takumi strolled slowly to the desk, his hands in his pockets. Once he arrived he tapped the bell.
A–ding!– sound.
Nobody came after fifteen seconds of waiting, so Takumi decided to take a seat on the black couch. Once again he walked slowly to the couch, and hesitantly, then sat down and dropped his suitcases. The entire lobby was empty, apart from a boy who was sitting on one of the wooden chairs, reading some book. Takumi couldn't read what book it was from this distance, but he tried to, since it was the only thing of interest at the moment. The boy was about fourteen, and wore worn boots. Along with them, he wore a full black coat that wrapped around his entire torso and moved down to his knees, and a dark green mud-cap that covered his eyes. It was odd, to say the least, what the boy was wearing, but it was especially odd inside of a heated building like this. It was common sense not to wear a coat inside of a building, and with the heat of the summer reigning on, it would be nothing more than a nuisance, a coat like that.
Takumi smelt something suddenly. What is that? He thought. It was a beautiful smell, thankfully, but it was so strange-he had never smelt anything like it.
"The flowers, they smell nice, yeah?" Said a voice that came from the reception desk. It was the clerk. They were a woman, of about thirty years. She had long, black hair and was smiling kindly. So that's what they were. Flowers. Thought Takumi. He would have to answer her now. He had been staring at her without saying a word, not expecting the clerk to appear out of nowhere.
"Yes! Very nice smell, very nice."
Takumi leapt off of the couch and walked over to the desk heartily. His face grew a smile.
"This is a great establishment. I've read about it in the news."
"Thank you sir!"
Her face relaxed.
"So would you like a room?" She asked.
"Yes, I would…I was wondering if…If I could get a room for three days?"
The woman's face grew a sudden confused tone. Takumi's heart began to beat faster. This is stupid. He thought. Why do I feel anxious now? Maybe because she won't let me get a room. It's too short an amount of time to rent-
"Three days?"
The woman interrupted the train of thoughts.
"Yes, three."
"Well then, okay! Three it is! That will be…One minute!"
She went into a door behind the desk and vanished for a moment again. Takumi placed his fists on the desk and turned around, using his elbows to support him. He stared at the chairs. They had all gone empty now, the boy was gone. "But where to?" Takumi thought. "Where did he go? Why was he here if he was just going to leave…Maybe his parent told him to wait on a chair while they went to the bathroom, so he just started reading, and that's why he was in a coat! He had just taken a short stop inside while his parent went to the toilet! But still, why did he wear that coat in this weather?...Ah why the hell do I care!?"
The woman came out of the door again, with a key in her hand.
"You have room 213 sir. You can pay now, or pay at the end of your stay."
"I would prefer to pay at the end of my stay."
"Alright then! Here's the key," She handed it to him, he almost dropped it. His fingers fumbled, then tightened. He kept a firm grip.
"You'll find your room up those flights of stairs, don't worry we have signs telling you where to go and all. Enjoy your trip sir!"
"Thank you…Thank you."
Takumi said the last thank you with his back turned and his head stooped down. On the way to the stairs he halted and realised he had completely forgotten the suitcases. "What an idiot I am!" He thought, rushing back hurriedly to grab the suitcases as he stuffed the keys into his pockets and focused on grabbing them both with his hands. The clerk watched him until he had gone out of her vision, she had done so with almost a sad pity.
Once Takumi had made it to the passage of the stairs the scent of the flowers almost instantly evaporated and instead were replaced with one of wood and tobacco. The area was dark, being faintly lit up by yellow lights, and the stairway was a dark brown color that seemed to not have a single scratch. Not long had it been since this building was built, in fact it had only been three months ago when they had finished it, as Takumi had read in the news. A faint excitement had been running through him since he had entered, because he knew that the building he found himself in would have likely been the most new and shiny one he would ever have the pleasure of being in. His arms had started to ache from the walking, which had been going on for about three minutes now, and would come to an end soon, at least upwards it would, since the sign on the wall stuck to it read in bold metal letters:
ROOMS
200-300 NEXT AHEAD
Takumi stared at this for a moment then lowered his head to his chest again. Eventually he would find his room.
He came to the entrance into the hallway. His back felt a warm rush of blood and then his mind too. It only took him three paces before he had found his room, 203. He dropped the suitcases and delved in his pockets for the keys. He took them out and shaking, he didn't particularly know why, opened up the door. It moved more stiffly than he expected, as though the room refused to be entered, and when it finally gave up it did so with a hollow sound that seemed to echo longer than it should have in Takumi's mind. For a brief moment he stood still in the entrance and stared at the room.
The capsule was smaller than he had imagined, though it wasn't tiny to the point where he couldn't fit in, it was just small. The walls curved inward gently, and the ceiling hung low. Everything, almost everything in the room was white. It was fresh too, a fresh white that did not look dulled by age, by hands, by time. The light inside was faint and even, without a clear source, it flattened the room so that depth felt rather uncertain, Takumi felt it made the capsule not truly a place but more so a container for one.
He stepped inside and moved his suitcases in, after he shut the door. It was a soft sound as it closed, almost polite, yet with an impounding final tone that unsettled him. Now the door was closed, the ambience and the smell and the outside world ceased at once. Takumi set his suitcases down beside the door and remained observing while on his feet. There was a bed, which was narrow and pressed against the wall. Its sheets had been folded with care, he noted. A round window was ingrained into the wall, and it was giant. It could be greatly compared to the clock of Big Ben from London, or the windows from a cathedral. It gave him a view of the entirety of Tokyo. A small table with a notebook and a vase of flowers, (not the same ones that the clerk had) was placed before the window, along with a small chair. That was the room's interior.
There was nowhere to pace. Takumi realised this suddenly, and felt an annoying itch of claustrophobia take over him. He kicked it away and moved to the bed. He sat on the edge of it. The mattress dipped beneath his weight and did not recover. He loosened his tie then but did not remove it. For a moment, he listened to his own breathing, surprised by how loud it sounded in this specific room. It had sounded the loudest it had ever been.
Takumi's mind went into a trance again.
Three days were all that he had. Excluding this evening of course, which was just the day to arrive. No, he would have only three days to be with his family. The thought did not comfort him.
He remembered the letter.
"The letter!" He yelled insanely, and unconsciously, while hurling himself at one of the suitcases and clicking it open. Inside, piles of papers stacked. Takumi rummaged through until he found the one piece of paper with a slightly yellow, sort of creamy texture. It was folded up. He yanked it out and unraveled it. This was the message from his brother, the one he had received in Fukuoka. This was the reason he had come to Tokyo. He began to read it again.