The Man in The Bullet Train

I woke late, unsurprisingly, and therefore had the communal bathroom to myself for my very necessary morning scrub and a less important soak. Sitting by yourself in a huge warm bath means you have no choice but to be alone with your thoughts. 

Outside in the sun, I purposely sat with my back to the boulder over which my arse had lost its cherry as if that would drive the memories from my mind. I got in the pool. I got out of the pool. I sat on the side for a bit before taking yet another dip. Again and again, I gave myself a good talking to, telling myself not to be stupid; that it was 'just' a holiday romance; that it could not have worked anyway. Eventually, with the skin on my fingertips wrinkled like dried prunes, l finally reached a point of honesty with myself. I had fallen in love. It would have been worth trying to make a go of it. But it was all moot. I had no address for him and in my stupid anger at him leaving, I hadn't taken down his mobile even. I had no choice but to forget him. As best as I might.

A stomach rumble told me that developing the wrinkled prune look further was not an option and it was now time to leave. Hauling myself to my feet, I caught sight of my sorry-looking dick and balls, hanging down as low as they had ever done in their lives, as if finally exhausted by the repeated dips in the hot water. Laughter from the women's area drifted over the separating wall, seemingly in response to the reddened skin and greying pubes of an old man feeling decidedly sorry for himself.

One of the voices' machine-gun Japanese made me think of Katsumi. Were her empty 30 years now really looming ahead of me? Loneliness accompanied by just enough memories to underline how much better life could be with someone.

Stomach protesting loudly and continually now, I stopped off at reception to ask where the closest decent noodle bar might be. Kei-kun was on duty again but instead of his usual enthusiastic smiles, I was treated with ultra-polite but uncharacteristic coldness. The harder I attempted to catch his eye, he more he avoided my gaze, preferring instead to scribble away madly on a slip of paper. I had my explanation when the office door opened further, allowing a slightly wider gap between it and the frame for whoever was in the office to observe our interaction.

Kei-kun moved to block the line of sight of the office spy so that he could put the folded sheet of paper between he and l unseen. His eyes went from me to the paper and back again, imploring me to pick it up, which l did eventually, to his evident relief. On the one side, a crude map showing how to get to a nearby ramen bar but on the other Wataru's name followed by a string of Japanese characters which with my two weeks' in the country, I had not a hope in hell of deciphering.

Scarcely was I out of the ryokan and I was on the mobile to Katsumi, relating the bizarre change in Kei.

'Can you find your way back to the izakaya under the Shinkansen arches?'

'Yup. I wasn't THAT drunk!'

'I'll see you there at half one! Detective Shirl is on the case, Sunshine!'

***

Katsumi arrived at the ramen bar two minutes after I did, barely able to contain her excitement at being needed by someone. But still immaculately dressed in an expensive designer outfit that played to her height and made it an advantage. An intimidating one perhaps if you were shorter than she.

'Shall we eat first?' I said grinning, well aware Dectective Shirl would want to see Kei's note immediately.

The daggered look she shot only lasted a few seconds before she realised l was teasing. l received a playful slap on the forearm and a huge smile in exchange which disappeared rapidly when she read the back of the note. Her shoulders dropped, resignedly.

'What's wrong? Tell me! What is it?'

'It's good. For you, it's good. Kei's written 'This is the address Wataru left on his registration form. My boss is in the office, watching. He knows'. Then below, there's the address of a ryokan in Beppu. No idea what ' he knows' means though. Very cryptic!'

My heart leapt. I had an address. I could follow him. Find him. It didn't mean 'happy ever after', l knew that ... but it did mean l could speak to him, explain, apologise. Then it was up to him.

'Why the long face?' I asked, quickly adding in a hopefully humorous tone ' ... but admittedly 'a beautiful in a mature way' face!' in order to lift the glum look that had taken over her features.

'Beppu was where Keiko returned to. When she left me. Her hometown.'

She looked away for a minute, silent. Then, taking a deep breath, sat up ramrod straight once more.

'So, we're off to Beppu then?'

***

I was now wheeling my suitcases out of the ryokan myself in search of a taxi. The glacially polite boss on the reception desk had not offered to call one and my Japanese was not up to awkwardly insisting he did so. Katsumi was booking the trains 'Otherwise, if you do it, we'll end up on separate trains, both going to the wrong place!!' Realistic, if a tad harsh, l thought!!

After a couple of minutes waving my arms at all number of empty taxis which blithely ignored the mad foreigner, one eventually dared stop, the driver a wizened little man who looked to be 103. After a good bit of bowing and my saying 'Shinkansen' twenty times, he nodded, packed my cases with some difficulty into the boot and we were off. To the station I hoped!!

We hadn't gone 100 metres when l spotted Kei-kun on the pavement attempting to haul a suitcase almost the size of him down the road. I slapped the driver's seat and pointed at the pavement. 'Stop! Stop, please!' The sheer relief on the driver's face when he understood the mad gaijin wasn't in fact having a heart attack in his spotless taxi and had merely seen someone he knew was actually quite comical.

If Kei's eyes hadn't been quite so red-raw and his breathing so laboured, l would have found the disheveled look quite a turn-on but he was clearly very upset and close to tears. Neither my Japanese nor his English were in up to the task of an explanation so I just rang Katsumi.

'Kei's pushing a suitcase down the street. About to explode into tears as far as l can see. Tell him to just get in my taxi and he can explain everything at the station!' 

I handed my mobile to Kei to listen to Katsumi's translation, punctuated as it was by Kei's 'Hai, hai! ['Yes, yes!'] and frenetic bowing!

Five minutes later and after almost giving myself a hernia helping to pack Kei's mountain of a suitcase into the boot, the driver was pulling into Kyoto station. He was smiling away to himself, happy in the knowledge he could dine out for years to come on the time the mad foreigner kidnapped a Japanese elf off the pavement in broad daylight!!!

Inside Katsumi's cafe, she and Kei babbled away in hushed tones, punctured by Kei's almost continual bowing to me and an an incessant number of 'Domo arigato gozaimashita!' ['Thank you very much indeed!'] and 'Sumimasen!' ['I'm sorry!'].
When Katsumi finally turned to me, ready to explain what had happened, I put my hand up to stop her.

'Before we start, tell him if he thanks me or apologises once more in the next ten minutes, his willy is going to be sashimi!' She smirked and I don't know how accurately her translation was but Kei giggled into his hand and at least some of the tension in him disappeared.

'Apparently, the boss found out about his ... let's say ... 'exceptionally kind' customer service in the men's bath area and kicked him out, just like that! He's homeless basically!'