The warm glow of the spring afternoon sun welcomed Yuki as he stepped out of Shinjuku Station. Laughter from crows clung in the air, blending with the buzz of announcements and ads blaring from loudspeakers on street corners. People streamed up and down the sidewalk—some solo, others in pairs or groups. Most sported dark jackets, marching with purpose, oblivious to the shops lining the street.

He gazed at the sea of faces. There were undoubtedly plenty, maybe even a colossal number. The brisk wind playfully nipped at his slender frame, urging Yuki to button up his jacket and tuck his hands into his trouser pockets. If only he hadn't been in such a rush to leave home, he might have remembered to throw on a second layer of clothing.

He could have remained on the train until it reached its final destination: the Tokyo Teleport Station in Odaiba. The journey spanned forty-five minutes, but when the train made its stop at Shinjuku Station, Yuki's instincts compelled him to get off. He couldn't understand why he made that decision; he just followed his gut. People had labeled him impulsive before, and he guessed they were quite right.

Yuki checked his phone. The messages he'd sent earlier remained unanswered. If he followed his logical head, he'd gone straight home. Searching for someone in Shinjuku without a prior arrangement was like finding a needle in a haystack. The person he sought might not even be around. It was just a hunch, after all, and feelings could be deceiving.

Yet, a stubborn voice from his heart argued, "Can't the return trip from Odaiba to Kunitachi be adjusted? The train will pass Shinjuku. There's a slim chance he stopped by here." Yuki hesitated. He didn't want to build up too much hope. Unfulfilled expectations were sometimes harsher than having no expectations at all.

He decided to take a short stroll around Shinjuku. It had been months since he last visited this place, and something always managed to surprise him. Without a specific place in mind, he picked a random direction. Despite the aimless wandering, his eyes stayed sharp, scanning the passing faces in search of Haru's familiar expression. The realization hit him – they hadn't crossed paths today, and it felt oddly unsettling. They usually met every day, even on weekends when Haru would swing by with food from Nishii-san, or vice versa, with Yuki occasionally stopping by after being invited by Nishii-san.

Suddenly, the memory of Haru's smile surfaced. Haru had an adorable smile, adorned with a dimple only on the right side and one crooked tooth. When he grinned, his cheek would rise up slightly from the left side of his mouth and showing that crooked tooth, giving him a childlike appearance. His eyes would curve, forming a line resembling a thin crescent moon.

It reminded Yuki of one particular smile—Seiji-kun's smile in Misawa. That little boy always greeted people with a wide smile, proudly showing his crooked teeth and curved eyes. One of his milk tooth hadn't fallen out completely, causing in the endearing crookedness. There were many dentists in Misawa but his tooth was left untouched. Scared of the dentist, like a villager, as his mother used to say. Since then, Yuki nicknamed Seiji-kun's smile as the 'villager's smile.'

Three months after he stayed in Tokyo, Yuki found out that people here wielded various types of smiles. There were smiles for new acquaintances, for colleagues, for friends, for family, and finally, for oneself. Distinguishing between these smiles would be hard for newcomers. It wasn't that he accused Tokyo residents of being two-faced; it just appeared to him as a city filled with pretense. Yuki himself had picked up these "Tokyo-style" smiles, adapting them to specific situations and people. Sincere smiles, like the ones back in the village, were a rare find. Nishii-san happened to be one of those rare souls, possessing that genuine villager's smile. Even though she grew up in Yokohama, she rarely bothered to put up facades for different occassions — her sincerity and kindness could always be seen through her smile.

And then, there was Haru. Haru, the village guy from Yoshino, with his smile.

Yuki hadn't realized how far he had wandered until the sudden beat of drums and rattle of instruments caught him off guard. A group of street performers had taken center stage on the sidewalk. He had exited through the southeast gate of the station, traversing all the way to the bustling crossroads at 3-Chome. Returning to the station was just a matter of making a U-turn or turning left along this pedestrian street in Shinjuku. He chose the latter.

The road was flanked by a parade of shops. Towering billboards competing for attention in every direction, some inscribed in vibrant red katakana and kanji, others in English. Most were electronic billboards, but the canvas ones equipped with lights added to the eclectic mix. The street seemed to overflow with a myriad of establishments: high-end foreign boutiques, shops, electronics emporiums, banks, cosmetic parlors, hotels, posh restaurants, cozy coffee shops, and even toy stores. Every brand imaginable was there. UNIQLO's colossal BIQLO department store dominated the left side of the road, its outer wall adorned with bold "Tax Free" letters attracting foreign tourists. From the sheer size of the writing alone, Yuki could almost hear the owner's voice calling buyers: "Come, spend your money here!"

At the crossroads beyond BIQLO, a father and his son whizzed by on a bicycle, pushing him to cross as well. The first time he laid eyes on this type of intersection in Tokyo, it left him in awe. The zebra crossing sprawled out in almost every direction, nearly blanketing the asphalt. As the red light shifted to green, a surge of people spilled out from all corners, crisscrossing, facing off, or strolling side by side. He almost collide with a young woman carrying a dozen bags of groceries. The woman apologized in English and dashed away, likely a tourist ready to raid another store. She would soon run out of energy and money if she continued the shopping spree, but this place never slept. This was Shinjuku.

ABC-Mart was in the midst of a spring sale, with a brief line forming at the entrance. A billboard atop the building showcased the beaming face of an actress, gracefully holding up skincare products. Her smile, though, seemed like the professional kind. Yuki had seen her in TV Tokyo's late-night dramas but couldn't remember her name.

After a few minutes, he knew that reaching the intersection of Shinjuku Avenue was the endpoint of this road. A simple left turn there, and he would find himself at the station.

Groups of schoolgirls chatted animatedly as they strolled, their lively banter audible from a distance. Toddlers held onto their parents' hands, ensuring they didn't wander off. Fashionable young men ambled casually, earphones in, tunes playing. A smattering of white individuals, a few meters apart, gestured in broken English or Japanese. The elderly shuffled along, occasionally pausing to catch their breath with worn-out expressions. A young white couple, hand in hand, sipped bubble tea with calm composure. If this scene had played out in another part of Japan, rather than Tokyo, they might have drawn disapproving glances.

Eventually Yuki reached the entrance gate of the station. He pulled over and retrieved his cell phone, attempting to call Haru. Still no answer.

All he wanted was to apologize. It wouldn't be this complicated if he hadn't been so impulsive the night before and had considered Haru's feelings.

"Hey, young man!"

A man sporting a parka jacket and jeans called out to him. Despite his hair being styled like the young actors in dramas, the fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes betrayed the fact that he was no longer young, perhaps past fifty.

Yuki moved away, but the man trailed behind him.

"Hey," the man clicked his tongue and let out a friendly huff. "What are you doing?"

Yuki chose to ignore him.

"It's pretty chilly tonight," the man closing in. "I can use a handsome company."

Shinjuku was a hub for all sorts of people, including characters like this. Yuki dismissed the man with a short "Sorry," and hurried away.

"A sweet, handsome boy like you shouldn't be alone here," the man persisted. "You'll be kidnapped by yokai, you know? How about some drink?"

"Thank you, but I'm waiting for a friend."

"Ah, I see." The man smiled, a smile that seemed designed to lure in prey. "How much? Usually, around here, it's not more than five thousand yen. But I can give you eight, if you know how to play."

Yuki briskly walked into the crowd, heading towards Yasukuni Avenue, and the creepy man continued tailing him. Yuki took off his jacket, tying it around his waist to blend in better. He crossed past the Yunika Vision building with its famous three LED screens. Upon reaching the SMBC Bank ATM, he intentionally halted, sitting on the sidewalk beside several tourists who were snapping photos. Blend in, someone gave him a tip years ago. Make sure you can't be singled out. Yuki pulled out his phone and pretending to take photos. Only foreigners did that here. Though his face was turned upward, his eyes stayed alert.

The creepy man was no longer in sight.

All of sudden, someone grabbed his arm.

---

*yokai: demon.