John awoke and found the room darker than it was before. He had no idea what time it was. The warmth of the futon was begging him not to leave but he stumbled up into the cold and his body shivered in shock from the sudden temperature change.
Very slightly, John opened his door and noticed a light coming from one of the rooms down the hallway, the faint sound of a TV only barely reached his ears.   
John put some clothes on before heading over to the room and knocking twice on the slightly ajar door.
“John-san?”
John slid the door open and saw a short, slim woman with a straight-cut fringe in a bob standing and smiling at him, she had a can of beer in her hand.
John bowed deeply, “I’m John, nice to meet you!”
The woman bowed and smiled without showing her teeth, “John-san! Aren’t you just so handsome! I’m Tsukiko, nice to meet you. Welcome to Japan!”
John felt his cheeks flush red, he didn’t know what to say.
Tsukiko waved her hand and beckoned him to come into the room, “Come in! I saw you were sleeping before so I didn’t want to disturb you. Do you want a beer? Do you like Japanese beer? Is it okay if I speak Japanese?” Tsukiko was energetic and rapidly firing questions.
“Yes, please! I like Japanese beer.” He wasn’t well versed in Japanese beer but he wasn’t about to ask for a Coopers.
John sat while Tsukiko disappeared into another room before returning with a beer.
It was a large can, 500ml of a beer called Kirin which he had never had before.
“Kanpai!” They both said as they touched their cans together and John took a sip.
Tsukiko asked John a million questions about Australia and his life over there. Why did he like Japan? Could he eat sushi? And of course, did he have a girlfriend? To which he blushed and just said no.   
She raised an eyebrow as she took a sip of her beer, “Hmmm, the girls here will love you! Foreign men are so handsome! I love your deep eye sockets. Aaaah I wish I had deep eye sockets, look at this! I have no depth in my eye sockets.” She pointed to her eyes and John looked but wasn’t entirely sure what to say.
He’d never really thought about his eye socket depth before.
They talked back and forth for a while and Tsukiko explained that she worked at a small office a few stations away. She didn’t say what she did other than it was an office job and it was boring but she rarely had to do it over time and the money wasn’t bad.  
“Hey, have you told your family you arrived? They’ll be worried won’t they?” Tsukiko said as the conversation lulled.

Since John arrived, he had been so absorbed in everything that he completely forgot about calling home. Tsukiko gestured for him to use the phone.
After struggling to put in the country codes and number properly he finally heard the phone ringing.
Brr-Brr—Brr-Brr—Brr-Kcccht-“Hello.” It was Mum.
“Mum I’m here! Sorry I just managed to get to a phone now. I’m at Tsukiko and Tadao’s place.”
“Oh! Thank goodness, I was worried but there were no plane crashes on the news so I knew it wasn’t that- Love it’s John- he’s arrived!” Mum yelled out to Dad mid-sentence.
“Anyway, how is everything?” She asked.
“It’s amazing – people have been really friendly and helpful and the house is beautiful. How are you?”
“Oh, we’re fine here, nothing much just the usual. Oh, I’m so glad! I’ll put your father on. Hold on.”
John had a brief conversation with Dad before he suggested not to talk too long because the international calling fees weren’t cheap. John put the phone down and thanked Tsukiko.

The two talked a little more and John slowly drank his beer, realising he had not eaten anything since Ryo’s breakfast, he had an empty stomach and felt a little tipsy from the beer. Tsukiko insisted on giving John a proper tour of the house after hearing Ryo had only shown him his room, the kitchen, and the bathroom.
The living room had a similar cluttered feeling to the kitchen, with a TV and some seats. There was a kotatsu (a coffee table with a heater underneath and a blanket around the edges) with two-floor seats around it. It seemed as if there were bookshelves of different sizes occupying every part of the walls – they were crammed with books, plates and even some faded old photos. There was a liquor cabinet and an old-looking computer at a desk.
Tadao and Tsukiko’s room was similar to John’s except much more personal. Tsukiko only briefly opened the door to their room but it reminded John of Mum and Dad’s room. There were his and her clothes in different parts of the room, a dresser, and an ironing board.
The garden went all around the house and while it was relatively narrow, with no specific front or backyard, it all joined seamlessly with large, flat stones of all sizes with moss-like mortar joining them together.
Tsukiko explained that this house had been in Tadao’s family for a long time, it was an old house with many, many memories. “Did Ryo mention that Tadao, him, and myself were friends from a long time ago?” Tsukiko was staring off.
“Yeah…he did. He said the three of you used to spend a lot of time here.”
Tsukiko smiled, “Yes, the three of us are so close. Those men are idiots but they mean the world to me.”
The two continued to walk the garden and the sky became darker above them with the sun nearly completely set by now. John realised and appreciated that Tsukiko slipped into English for more difficult conversations, she must have sensed the limit of his ability.
“You know Ryo, he is a really good guy. If you’re ever in trouble and we’re not around – please go to Ryo, he will help you.” She added while stepping back into the house.

Tadao wasn’t due back for a little while and Tsukiko suggested they eat around Kichijoji so that way Tadao could meet them there. Even though Kichijoji was a train stop away, walking didn’t take long, particularly through the park. They took a slightly more scenic route and Tsukiko pointed out where places like the pharmacy and convenience stores were. 7-Eleven was close to the station but there was another one called Lawson nearby, “I am more of a Lawson fan but Tadao likes Seven.” Tsukiko rolled her eyes.  John was curious about what the difference was.

Passing the station, the two descended a path into Inokashira Park. By now it was dark and only the park lamps provided illumination in amongst the darkness of the park. Several people passed, they seemed to be going home, some were walking and talking with others. A man sat on a bench facing the lake with an easel and the dark lake before him.

Tsukiko explained that Inokashira Park was always fairly busy but there was a time Tsukiko recalled when she would never walk through at night alone. There were all kinds of perverts back in the day and it wasn’t that well lit. One of the most frightening things that she recalled was the time there were body parts found in a bin in the park, “I can’t remember what year it was but some guy was chopped up and but in bags. All his blood was drained out and it was very precise.” John looked at a bin as they passed and wondered how many bins they used to dispose of all the body parts.  
“They never found the guy who did it but it was probably some mob job. People don’t just do stuff like that but then again, you never know…” Tsukiko seemed to be talking to herself at this point.

After circling the lake, they walked up some stirs to find what looked like a restaurant doing yakitori. It was extremely busy and the smoke wafted out as they passed.
It was the same street John had looked down when Toji showed him I 0 I 0 earlier that morning. The street felt different than it did in the morning. If it was still waking up when he first saw it, the street had woken up and put all of its accessories on. They came in the form of glowing street lamps, open stores, and things spilling out onto the street with countless people weaving in between the chaos of everything. Young men and women walked around holding menus yelling out the specials their establishment was offering in the form of all-you-can-drink or special set options.
Tsukiko pointed back to the smokey place, “Actually, we’re going here. Let’s wait in line and Tadao will join us.”
As they waited in the slow-moving line Tsukiko told him he should go and get himself a pre-paid phone from one of the providers. She suggested a provider called Softbank because they were okay with foreigners getting pre-paid phones, even on a holiday. “You probably would have seen a Softbank store this morning as you walked from the station right?”
John realised that he hadn’t told Tsukiko about his little detour, “Well actually this morning when I got to Kichijoji, I couldn’t find Marui and a guy helped me and ended up taking me on the train to Inokashira-Koen Station. I found Ryo’s place from there.”
“Eh? Wait – some random guy helped you? He wasn’t some kind of scam artist, was he? Did he ask you for money?” Tsukiko looked alarmed but slightly amused.
“No, he didn’t ask for anything and his English was really good. His name was Toji.”
“Hmm…okay. Maybe it’s because you are a foreigner. Just remember, while Japan in a peaceful country, you don’t always know what someone’s intentions might be. There is a lot that we can’t always see.” Tsukiko’s eyes seemed empty as she said this as if she had taken a step out of her body momentarily.
John wasn’t quite sure what to say, but assumed that this did not only apply to Japan, it could happen anywhere in the world.
“I will be careful. Don’t worry Tsukiko-san, Australia has a dark side too but maybe it just looks a bit different from how it does here?”
Tsukiko smiled at him, “I suppose you’re right. You’re a smart boy John-san,”
The line had progressed somewhat and one of the staff asked Tsukiko how many people before scribbling something down on the pad. Without looking at John she informed Tsukiko that they didn’t have an English menu. Tsukiko told her that wasn’t a problem.
“OH! Before I forget, you don’t need to call me Tsukiko-san or Tadao, Tadao-san. Please just call us Okaasan (Mum) and Otōsan (Dad).”
John agreed without processing it but then he thought how it would be calling other people Mum and Dad who weren’t his parents. With that said, the words felt different to him so he decided to approach it that way.
As they approached the entrance, Tsukiko started waving at a man in the crowd walking towards them. Tadao wore a dark check suit with a deep red skivvy underneath. Tadao was looked younger than John imagined, but then so did Tsukiko.
Tadao bowed deeply, “John-san, it is so good to meet you and welcome!” He had a slightly husky voice. The man standing before him had short hair, salt and pepper with a well-kept beard to match.  He wasn’t slim but also not overweight.
Tadao subtly touched Tsukiko’s back and she looked at him, smiling deeply with her eyes, “You kept us waiting! Unbelievable.”
“Hey hey! John’s going to find out how much you can’t stand me on his first night with us!” Tadao laughed and Tsukiko did too.
John laughed, not knowing exactly if he was meant to say anything so he just blurted out his formalities with Tadao, “It’s nice to meet you too, thank you for letting me stay during this time.” Bowing deeply in return.
“Gee, your Japanese is good and you can even bow properly!” Tadao laughed and patted John on the shoulder giving a light squeeze as he did.

Shortly after the three entered the restaurant. The room before them was like a hall with tables and seats lining the middle, booths around the sides, and repeated up two levels. Dark, old-looking wood and white panels with white lanterns uniformly lining tables and support beams. A smoky haze hung in the air and it wasn’t just the charcoal grill, people smoked as they drank and ate.
Smoking was legal in restaurants? John was surprised. He couldn’t even remember a time when people smoked in restaurants in Australia but his parents recalled a time when it was very much legal. They never spoke of it fondly.
It was loud, they squeezed between tables and apologised as they did. The young man guiding them darted effortlessly and unapologetically, looking back occasionally to see where the three were. As John walked awkwardly behind Tadao and Tsukiko, he caught glances, leaned in, an whispered before the whole table looked his way. He looked directly back and sometimes they looked away, other times they smiled or laughed.
“There’s a foreigner!”
Weave in between a long table with a bunch of co-workers.
“He’s handsome! Do you think he’s American?”
Side-ways walk between two tables with a ruckus group of uni students.
“Hey look behind you…”
A smaller group of four.
“Oh…there’s one here…”
Two young guys sitting at a table with beers and cigarettes hanging out of their mouths staring directly at John.
Once in their booth, Tadao ordered three beers, pulled out a packet of cigarettes, passed one to Tsukiko before lighting it and then doing his own.
Shortly after their drinks came out, Tadao and Tsukiko ordered a number of things that John had no idea about. He knew about yakitori which was chicken char grilled on a skewer but it seemed like there was more to it. In fact, when the plates came out, it seemed like anything could be grilled on a stick. They could be ordered with salt seasoning or a sauce that was almost like a thick, sweet soy.
John found that he was fond of chicken skin with salt seasoning, chicken hearts and beef.
He was not partial to liver at all.
Asparagus and gooey mochi wrapped in bacon were close contenders too.
Tsukiko ordered another serve of chicken skin for herself, “It’s full of collagen so it’s great for skin.” She poked her cheek as she explained. Tadao laughed, “I think you’ve got enough collagen in your cheeks don’t you?”
Tsukiko lobbed a slap his way before the two laughed again.
John hadn’t encountered a dynamic like this before, the couples he saw in highschool didn’t make jokes like this, it easily would have ended in tears. Even Mum and Dad didn’t joke like this, or if they did it was just about weird stuff that no one understood except them. John found himself wanting to laugh too but wasn’t sure if he should or could. Tsukiko and Tadao wouldn’t have noticed though, they were in their little world during those moments anyway.  
Tadao fired off questions to John all night, asking about how John’s parents were before reminiscing about the days back in Australia, “It’s a good country! No overtime and very peaceful like Japan.”, he took a puff of his cigarette as he surveyed.
“So what are you going to do while you’re here? Have you thought about places you want to see or things you want to do?”
If John were to be completely honest, he hadn’t thought much about what he would do at all. There was a part of him that thought they might show him around but it seemed like the two of them would have work most of the time during the days, “I think I might just go around and explore and see what I can find. I really don’t know. I’ve never been overseas before…”
It was only just dawning on John, still less than 24 hours in the country that he had three months ahead of him. He couldn’t begin to comprehend what he even had to do.
“First time? Oh gee!“
“We’ll both be working a lot but we can give you recommendations for places to go. What do you like? Anime? Sushi?”
“I like shopping, eating and walking around cities. I’m interested in Japanese culture but I don’t know where to start. Anime and sushi are fine…”
“Tsukiko and I can make a list. Oh- hey who was that kid that Ryo knows? He should be about John’s age right?”
“Aahh—you mean the one who lives a few stations away and had a job trial a few weeks back?” Tsukiko was racking her brain as she took a sip of her umeshu soda, “I don’t remember his name…maybe we can drop by Ryo’s place later and if he’s there we can introduce you John. He doesn’t start university until April so he’s like you – lot’s of time.”
“Oh cool!” John wondered what this guy was like and if they would get along.
“Good thing it’s not a girl or she’d probably be all over a handsome foreigner like you! Say John, what do you think about Japanese women?” Tadao gave John a wink.
John’s cheeks flushed red. He did not think he would be at risk of having to come out so soon. His heart started racing in his chest.
Tell the truth.
Don’t tell them.
What if they’re homophobes?
What did Japanese people even think about gay people?
There were always gay references and themes in anime but he really didn’t know.
“Oh…umm I haven’t really – well yeah of course super pretty!” He blurted out awkwardly. It wasn’t the best answer but it also wasn’t a flat our lie. Objectively, yes Japanese women were very pretty. Women in general were pretty but it didn’t mean he was sexually attracted to them.
It was a lie by omission. There were worse ways to go.
“Oh look at what you’ve done! The poor thing has gone bright red. He’s not even an adult yet!” Tsukiko threw a look Tadao’s way and clicked her tongue angrily. There was little jest in her eyes or words this time. She looked at John and softened to a warm and caring gaze, “Don’t listen to him! In your own time You’re just a boy.”
John felt the need to let her know he was eighteen but she waved a finger and shook her head smiling, “Aaah but in Japan you do not technically come of age until you’re twenty years old.”
This was news to John but it also begged the question as to why they let him drink. He wasn’t about to question that though. He was thoroughly enjoying his third beer.

After dinner they walked through the much darker and quieter Inokashira Park. It felt much colder than it did earlier. The air was still and John could see his breath billowing out in front of him.
The stillness of the park really struck him. There was something eery, there was something missing but he couldn’t figure out what it was.
The three made their way up the path and the steps near Inokashira-Koen Station. A few of the stores had glowing windows and people inside. One of those was 万星.
“You would have gone here this morning right?”
“Yeah! Actually, how do I read it? I know it’s 10,000 and stars, is it man-hoshi?”
Tadao laughed, “Aah close. You have the meaning of those kanji correct but it’s actually a name, Maho.”
“Maho? Okay…” John didn’t understand how it worked but he wasn’t about to question it. He knew jack all about kanji so this showed he had a lot to learn.
They entered into the warm, smoky space, except compared to Iseya, the smokiness of Maho was purely cigarette smoke.
Ryo was behind the bar talking to some customers at the counter and looked over towards the three standing at the door. His eyes lit up, “Irasssshai!”
Ryo was wearing a denim happi with a black t-shirt underneath. His long hair tied up as it was in the morning. 
With all the chairs and tables arranged and people sitting at them, the bar felt completely different from when John had eggs there that morning. There were quite a few people scattered around. It’s not like the bar was huge but if Dad was there he would say, oh it’s a great use of the space!
The walls were smoothly rendered in a light beige with countless dark floating shelves scattered in an almost random selection along every wall. Some were high, others were low, long and short. Vinyl records of retro Japanese pop singles, little figurines crowded one shelf while photos of different locations taken on film were neatly lined up on others.
A few customers glanced his way with stares lingering before going back to their own business. A young man with a similar coloured hapi and black t-shirt was collecting some glasses from an empty table and wiping it down. He smiled and greeted them too, “Irashaimaseh” his voice deep and almost didn’t match his face which was soft and young looking. His eyes disappeared as he smiled, there was something fox-like and delicate about his features. This was compared to Ryo who whose thicker and more prominent features gave him an old-world masculinity.
“Ahh that’s the guy! He’s your new friend John.” Tsukiko tapped John on the shoulder and obviously pointed at the fox-like staff member with the deep voice.
Noticing this, the young man quickly made his way over to the three, “Oh I’m so sorry, that was rude of me. Where would you like to sit?” He bowed deeply.
Tadao stepped in, “No, no take your time. We were just saying that our friend’s son John will be staying with us he’s your age and we think you two could be friends.” He said matter-of-factly.
The boy laughed and raised both eyebrows before turning to John, “AH! WELCOME. MY – NAME – IS – KENTA. WHAT – IS – YOUR – NAME? JAPANESE OK?” he said in the loudest and almost patronisingly slow Japanese John had ever heard. The token English at the end was also loud and slow.
John blinked multiples times before stammering out his response, “My name is John. Nice to meet you.”
Kenta turned to Tadao and Tsukiko, “Ohh he can speak Japanese. That’s so cool.”
The two chuckled politely before Tsukiko launched, “Kenta, you’re starting university next year aren’t you? You live on the Inokashira line don’t you?”
Tsukiko had a mission, she was gathering information with a steely determination. Her bob and dead straight fringe accentuated the power in her eyes. Soft Kenta barely stood a chance, “Oh-uh-yes. My family lives near Highashi Matsubara Station…” He was extremely polite in his answers but John could perceive a stress growing within him. He knew where this was going.
Tsukiko continued, “So, John is the same as you. He starts university in his country next year but he’s with us for three months. Won’t it be a great chance for the two of you to hang out? You can show John around when you have time. That won’t be an issue right?” Tsukiko was asking questions, but it didn’t seem like there was more than one answer. The answer was going to be yes, of course it’s fine.
Kenta laughed, it was extremely unnatural sounding and John just stood there awkwardly observing the whole situation. Tadao had walked over to Ryo and the two were snickering while looking over at Tsukiko and Kenta, presumably about the massacre taking place before their eyes.
Tsukiko delivered the final blow, “John doesn’t have a phone yet so you can give me your number and email now or I can just get it off Ryo.” There was absolutely no malice in her voice or actions, Tsukiko was just connecting two people based on them being similar ages and have a similar amount of spare time.
Kenta’s mouth was open slightly, “Uh- I’ll just go get my phone…” He was about to turn around when Tsukiko stuck the knife in even further, “Huh? Don’t you know your own phone number and email?”
Kenta turned around reluctantly and laughed nervously, “Oh yeah! Sorry I just…”
He recited his number and email with Tsukiko checking it with him.
After the awkward exchange, John and Tsukiko joined Tadao who had taken a seat at the bar near Ryo and was busily chatting away. Kenta quietly passed them each hot towels.
John wasn’t sure what to do with it so he just cleaned his hands with it, the sting of the hot towel on his cold extremities made each finger feel like it was throbbing. It was odd, it felt nice.
“Three warm sake!” Tadao seemed to proclaim out of nowhere. Ryo nodded and chuckled a bit as he took three small bottles and put them in what looked like a hot water bath. Steaming, but not boiling.
Once they were done, a small bottle and an even smaller cup were placed in front of John. Tsukiko wordlessly poured his and then her own.
“Kanpai!” With a steady gaze and deep eye contact, Tadao joined in and so did Ryo who had a cup poured too. In unison the four of them downed their Sake. The slightly sweet, frangrant and reminded him of moist earth. The warmth spread within him, his eyes closed for a brief moment.
“Kenta! Come here and join in with our new friend!” Ryo growled over at Kenta who was pottering around the kitchen looking busy. He shuffled over before apologising.
Now there were five cups.
“Welcome to Tokyo John!”
“Thank you!” John bowed his head before they all clinked their full cups and downed another shot.
Kenta put his cup down slowly before bowing and drawing away wordlessly.

After the warm sake, the three took their leave and headed home. Tsukiko and Tadao allowed John to have a shower before they did. He made it quick because he felt guilty. He just wanted to get the smell of the smoke out of his clothes and hair and skin.
By the time he got to his room, he found a small bottle next to his clothes and while he couldn’t make out everything written on it, the pictures on the back indicated that it was a clothing deodoriser. John found some coat hangers in the cupboard, hung his clothes in the sun room, sprayed every inch of them before closing the shoji.
The light above his futon had a string he pulled, once made it dim, twice turned the light off.

Once more John sunk into the futon. The light, fluffy warmth wrapped around him and he found his tingling body sinking into another time and space. His eyes closed and he fell asleep.

The house was quiet and everyone was asleep. Outside, the silver moonlight flooded the garden which was still and silent except for the trickle of the water flowing into the pond.  

*italicised dialogue is taken to be spoken in Japanese*

“Passengers, we have arrived at Narita International Airport where the local time is 7:30 am, and the temperature outside is 8 degrees. To those of you returning home, welcome home, and to those of you visiting, we hope you enjoy your stay.” The announcement was followed by English, and John was unsure how much of the Japanese he understood, but then again, the PA system on the plane was muffled, so how was he expected to clearly hear everything? As John walked off the plane and into the airport, he saw the world outside. It looked like any other airport. There were trees and greenery in the distance, but there was no sign of a city nearby. Wasn’t this airport meant to be the closest to Tokyo?

“Please be careful when riding on the travelator,” said the travelator next to John. He walked towards immigration and saw various signs in Japanese. He had seen some of the kanji before, but he couldn’t read everything. John felt a pang in his stomach. Where was he meant to go?

As he frantically looked around, an older man gestured for him to turn. “Foreigners, this way please.” The man smiled and bowed deeply as he did so. John wasn’t entirely sure what he said, but when he looked in the direction the man was gesturing, it was obvious:

IMMIGRATION LANE FOR FOREIGN ALIENS

John shuffled over into that lane where most of the non-Japanese seemed to be funnelling in from the wider crowd of confusion.

Approaching the counter, a woman sitting behind the screen gestured for him to approach. “Hello, I’m Jo-” John started, before the woman at the counter cut him off with a deadpan expression, “Passport and incoming passenger card please” John awkwardly fumbled for the documents before passing them to her.

Eyes on the passport,

eyes on John,

reading over the immigration document.

She typed on an unseen keyboard before a little whirring sound printed something out. She affixed it to John’s passport.

STAMP

STAMP

STAMP

The lady passed the document back to John and gestured for him to proceed. “Thank you!”

After picking up his luggage and clearing customs, John realized he had the instructions Mum and Dad gave to him and pulled out the note from Tadao. Finding the Narita Airport Limousine Bus Counter wasn’t as straightforward as he anticipated; it seemed there were quite a few bus services. John looked at each sign carefully, not noticing the squat little woman appear on his left. “Welcome to Japan! Can I help you?”

John nearly jumped out of his skin because he was so absorbed in finding the Limousine Bus Counter. “Oh, thank you! Yes, I’m looking for the Narita Airport Limousine Bus Counter…”

“Oh yes! This way!”The woman wore a black uniform with gold buttons and a white collar. At almost a full head under John in height, she marched ahead with great speed, and John jogged after her with his suitcase awkwardly rolling behind him.

Surely enough, the woman took him to the counter. “Where will you be going?”
John looked down at his instructions. “Kichijoji Station…I think…”
She tilted her head slightly, and her eyes narrowed slightly, “Ah…Kichijoiji, right?”
John nodded.

The lady walked over to the counter and spoke to the younger girl behind the counter, who nodded intently as she stared blankly off into the distance. The lady gestured for John to come closer again, and John made his way over.

“It’s 1880 yen for one way, is that okay?”
John nodded.
He pulled out an envelope and took out a 2000 yen note.
“A 2000 yen note?!” The lady chuckled in surprise.

John wasn’t sure what was so surprising about the note but went to pass it to the woman at the counter. She sat there looking at him slightly confused before smiling and politely gesturing to a small plate in front of her, “Put the money here, please.”

John cautiously put the money on the plate before she took it and processed his ticket.

“This bus leaves in 10 minutes from outside Door 23. Please make sure you check your large suitcase in because you will not be able to take it onto the bus.” She smiled at John.
John had no idea what she said and blurted out, “Thank you.”
The young girl looked confused and turned to the woman who took John to the counter, “Does he speak Japanese?”
The woman smiled back, “Don’t worry. I will show him and make sure he gets on the bus.”
“Oh, thank you!” before bowing deeply.

John was unsure about the exchange except for a few words. He felt sweaty and stressed because he wasn’t sure what was going on.
“Come on! I’ll get you to your bus.” The woman was off again and gesturing for John to follow her.

Surely enough, there was a black bus outside Door 23. John checked in his suitcase with a young man who gave him a little ticket back.
John got onto the bus and took a seat near a window. The bus wasn’t full; there were only a few people on the bus at this time, with a few more trickling in before the departure.

“Thank you for using Narita Limousine Bus. This bus is going to Kichijoji Station, Kichijoji Station. We will depart shortly.” Went a nasal voice over the speaker.

The bus left the airport before getting onto the freeway. From here, John felt like he could have been in Australia too; nothing looked particularly different. But then he noticed the trees were different. There weren’t any of the trees he saw in Australia. There were no eucalyptus trees.

The signs along the freeway were different colors, and they were written in Japanese, some with English at the bottom. John was definitely not in Australia anymore.

The bus was silent, and it was at this point John noticed no one was talking. The seats were high, and each section felt quite private. Some of the other passengers had drawn the curtains to the window next to their seats and were presumably sleeping.

John felt tired. He felt like he wanted to shower, but he would obviously have to wait, and the idea of sleeping seemed dangerous because he didn’t want to miss his stop.

Past the highway were rice paddies and green mountains further in the distance, some closer to the highway. Traditional Japanese houses were clustered together looking exactly like he imagined them; ornate tiled roofs with slight curves, white outer panels with wood lining separating each panel. Old and sturdy. Were they hundreds of years old? Maybe. Some houses had gardens with trees that were sparse except for cloud shape puffs of green and large rocks around them.

The rural scenery soon fell away and was replaced with something more urban and surprising. The uniform apartment blocks were scattered throughout the landscape as well as some other buildings that stood out from the rest. John couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, and it took him a while to realize what exactly was odd about these buildings; they almost seemed fake. They looked like the kinds of buildings one would find in a theme park. It was as if they belonged on the set of some American film. Some of them had signs with their names written above;

Hotel Eden

Pink Play

Magic Park

John wondered what exactly they were. One of the buildings even looked like a European castle. The bus passed a sign that had various place names along with Tokyo (60) among others. Was the airport really that far? John wondered.
His eyes closed.

John came to and found the scenery had changed again. The bus was cruising along an elevated freeway amidst all kinds of buildings. Rice fields and trees had been replaced with a concrete forest. In the distance, he saw a red and white tower that reminded him of the Eiffel Tower. John felt he had seen this tower many times over as it had featured in anime and some drama that he had watched in his early high school days. What was it called again? He wondered to himself.

At another point, he saw another spire that looked to be under construction, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was. Some buildings had nets and sports grounds on them. There were concrete buildings that had little houses on top of them and others that had nothing at all. As the bus glided down an exit onto the ground level road, John looked at the people and streetscapes. It was familiar in the sense that he knew he was on Earth, but everything was different. The streets were different from those in Australia, but they weren’t. The shops weren’t any he recognized except for the odd Starbucks or McDonald’s. The tiles on the footpath, the street lights, and even the markings on the road. John was transfixed by his surroundings as the bus continued to navigate the seemingly endless city. Tokyo really was all city. It was like one endless CBD.

After what seemed like hours. An announcement came over the speaker on the bus, “We will soon arrive at Kichijoji Station. Please make sure you don’t forget your belongings and ensure you have your luggage ticket to show in order to receive your stowed luggage. Thank you for riding with Narita Limousine Bus. Just to repeat, we will soon arrive at Kichijoji Station, Kichijoji Station,” the nasal voice of the driver announced over the PA system.

John struggled to understand most of what was said but he grasped Kichijoji, luggage, and don’t forget.

The bus slowed as it went past the front of a big building with a sign written in Japanese with a smaller English sign that said JR Kichijoji Station. There were people pouring in and out of the station and walking along the street, moving across the pedestrian crossing and going in all directions. There were suits, other kinds of office wear, and people dressed quite stylishly in casual clothes. Within these groups, there was a certain level of consistency and uniformity in colors and coordination; it was all completely different from what John knew.
The bus slowly passed the station building and came to a stop under the rail bridge coming out of the building.

People slowly got off, and so did John, waiting in line before getting his luggage. He noticed the way people ducked their head in a quick and shallow bow as they received their luggage.
Taking note of this, John did the same. He wanted to say thank you, but he got nervous thinking about how to say it and missed his chance.

He made it. John was actually in Japan. It was everywhere, all around him and in the air. The air smelled different, and yet there was a familiarity about everything. He was so sure he’d seen places like this before but he couldn’t quite put his finger on which movie, anime, or drama he had seen it in.

Remembering the note, John pulled it out of his pocket again:

1. Leave the international terminal and find the Narita Airport Limousine Bus Counter.

2. Get a ticket to Kichijoji Station (Should cost 2000 yen).

3. From Kichijoji Station, find the park exit and look for the I 0 I 0 building and walk straight down the little street with lots of shops.

4. At the end of the street, you will see Inokashira Park, enter the park and walk around the lake to get to the other side (go from the left).

5. Walk up a small hill, and you will see Inokashira-koen station on one side and a 7-Eleven on the other side.

6. Please look for a shop that has 万星 written on the sign.

7. Please knock, and Hashimoto-san (man with long hair and mustache) will show you to the house. He has the key to give you.

8. Please make yourself comfortable at home! We will be home later. Sorry to make you wait.

John had a while to go, but at least he was in the area. He wasn’t sure where the park exit was, and he couldn’t see a park nearby. There were lots of buildings though.

Walking under the bridge, he noticed a narrower street with another exit from the station. He had to look for the I 0 I 0 building, whatever it was. Was it one – zero – one – zero, or was it i o i o? Perhaps it was ten-ten?

Standing in the narrow street, there were people walking silently. One young girl was handing out small packages to people as they passed by, who mostly ignored her. She was saying something in a sing-song voice, but John couldn’t quite understand what she was saying.

Looking up, John saw buildings towering over the narrow street on either side, and it’s not that they were skyscrapers, but the narrowness of the street made them seem taller. The buildings were covered with countless signs in varying colors sticking out from the buildings. Most were in Japanese, and some were in English, but they were just random words like OK, SHOP, PACHINKO, SLOT, BAR, DARTS. John couldn’t read a lot of the kanji.

Continuing slowly, partly to see what was around him and then also in awe of everything his eyes could take in, John realized he was overwhelmed and couldn’t find the I 0 I 0 building. He started getting worried and was conscious that he had a big suitcase on a narrow street with many people passing around him.

“Hello. Excuse me,” came a voice from behind John in English. John, slightly startled, turned around and saw a young man in a neat navy suit holding a briefcase in his hand beaming right at him. His hair was slick, and his eyebrows jutted up slightly. He was extremely handsome.

“Oh…hello!” John blurted out.
The man smiled, almost laughing, “Are you lost?”
“Umm I’m looking for the ten-ten building. Can you tell me where it is?”

The man tilted his head, “Eh? Ten-ten building?” On first glance, the man had dark brown eyes, but as the light hit them, there was an earthy red hidden within.

John showed the instructions he was given and pointed to I 0 I 0.
The man laughed, “Oh! You mean the Marui department store?”
“Marui?!” John looked again at the word. How the hell was that read as Marui? Three scripts in Japanese were enough; he couldn’t fathom the thought of a surprise fourth script to learn.
“I can show you. This way, and do you mind if I have a look at this?” The man put his hand lightly on John’s shoulder and gestured for the instructions.

John felt a slight jolt run through his body from the touch, “Oh yes.”
They walked along, and the man gestured for John to keep left, “Is it your first time in Japan? Where are you from?”
“Yes, it is! I’m from Australia.”
“Oh wow, why did you come here? Sightseeing or work? Australia is a beautiful country. I love Aussie beef!”

Aussie beef? John found this slightly amusing.

“I’m staying with my parents’ friends who live here and will stay for three months. Did you visit Australia before?”
“Oh wow! So nice. No, no, never, but I would like to if I have the chance.”
The two emerged onto another street, and before them stood a large building with I 0 I 0 on the top. John felt a wave of relief wash over him and turned around to the man, who didn’t seem interested in the fact they had found Marui; he was looking again at the paper printout.
“Hmm…down the street…lots of shops…Inokashira park…Inokashira-koen station…huh?” The man looked puzzled as he seemed to read over the page again. He looked at John, “You need to go to Inokashira-koen Station?”
“I think so, the shop I need to go to is there so I can get the key.” John wasn’t entirely sure.
“I know a better way; I can take you, is that okay?” The man gave the paper back to John.
“Oh…I don’t want to put you out; don’t you have work or something?”
“It’s okay. I can take you. It’s close by, and I’m heading that way too.” The man smiled.
John hesitated, but he really didn’t want to get lost again. “Alright, thank you!”
The man nodded and started walking, John following closely behind.

The inside of the station was a hive of activity, but with very little speaking. The sound of footsteps, like the sound of marching, was constant. Slow beeping sounds and the escalators telling whoever would listen that they were going up or down and to hold while riding. The man walked towards the escalators and gestured for John to follow.

With his suitcase amongst so many people, John felt extremely awkward, and the endless waves of people coming toward him would move around him and his suitcase without a word or any seeming effort. John hopped onto the escalator and kept the suitcase behind him.

“Wait over here for a moment, please.” The man gestured for John to stay put and went over to a machine before coming back with a small ticket which he passed to John. It had Japanese of varying sizes written and a numerical 120 on it, “You put this in the barrier and it will let you through, take it with you when it pops out.”

The man walked to the barrier and put his wallet over a glowing symbol, and the gates opened; he glided through. John clumsily pulled his suitcase and held the ticket and looked at the barrier. It took him a while to find the little slot, and he looked at the ticket for a moment before seeing an arrow. He put the ticket in, and it disappeared before popping up out of another hole at the top of the barrier. The gates opened.

As John passed through, he took the ticket with him, and almost instantly, someone had slammed their wallet down on the same barrier waiting to get through. John hastily pulled his suitcase before joining the man.

Two trains sat at the platform, and they moved towards the one that has Shibuya, Local on the display. The inside of the train was relatively empty.

“We will only go one stop, and usually, everyone gets on the express train.”

A few more people came on and took seats. John noticed that they were the only ones standing, and a few of the people getting on discreetly glanced John’s way.

“The local train for Shibuya is departing. Don’t rush for the train because it is dangerous, Don’t rush for the train,” said a woman’s voice over the loudspeaker.

A nasal voice came over the loudspeaker, “This is the local train, the local train bound for Shibuya. The doors are closing. Please be careful of the gap. Doors are clooooosing.” As all the doors closed automatically, they chimed as they did.

Within seconds, the train began to move ahead, and people were already lining up for the next departure. John found it interesting that no one seemed particularly annoyed that they had just missed the train.

As they pulled out from the station and onto the open tracks, the train started speaking, first as a kind old Japanese lady and then as a slightly peppy but nasal English-speaking woman, “Thank you using the Keio Inokashira Line. This is the local train bound for Shibuya. The next stop is Inokashira-koen, the doors on the left side will open.”

Buildings gave way to smaller houses of varying shapes. Some were oddly geometrical and had little skylights on the roof. They crossed a level crossing and then some more bushes before the train started to slow down.

The nasal man started again over the loudspeaker, “We are arriving at Inokashira-koen. I-NO-KA-SHI-RA KO-EN. Please mind the gap as you exit the train.”

As the doors opened with another chime, the man gestured for John to follow, and he did.
Only a few others got off, and the station was much simpler than Kichijoji Station.

They exited through the barriers, and this time, with less rush, John was able to concentrate on what he was doing. The machine ate his ticket, and the gates flung open for him to pass through.

There was a small plaza around the station with some bus stops. John saw a 7-Eleven as well as some other stores. The man gave John back the instructions, “Do you think you can see the shop from here?” He smiled as he said this.
John took a moment, looking at the word 万星 and then scanning the shop names. Surely enough, there it was on a wooden panel in white stencil writing. “It’s that one, right?”
The man smiled more, and his teeth showed, “Very good! Ah, it’s so rude of me I forgot to ask. What is your name?”
Now that John thought of it, they had not even exchanged any kind of formalities. “I’m John. What’s your name?”
“John! That’s a very cool name. My name is Toji. Nice to meet you.” He bowed deeply.
There was silence as they looked at one another. John felt his cheeks burning and quickly looked away.
“Well, John, I best be going. I’m sure we will see each other again.” He grinned broadly, and this time his eyes disappeared as he did.
“See you again!” was all John could manage.
“I live in Kichijoji so we are neighbors! Maybe I will see you at Inokashira Park sometime, no?” Toji turned and headed down some stairs rather than via the station. He disappeared from view.

Wow, John thought to himself – he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something about Toji. Maybe it was just that he was handsome, nice, and John was probably tired from the flight.

He started walking over to 万星 and realized it was closed. He peered into the dark windows and saw what looked like a bar. Not a soul in sight. If it was open and had people in there, it would have been really cozy. The instructions said to knock so John gave the door a good, hard knock-knock-knock.

Nothing.

John stood awkwardly and looked at the street around him.

An older woman with short hair who glanced at him earlier was watching him again but looked away as their eyes met. John started feeling hot under his clothes.

It would have been nice if Toji waited with him, John felt suspicious knocking at a closed bar as it was. If anyone came and asked him what he was doing, he had no idea how he could possibly explain himself. He started trying to make up sentences in Japanese in his head.

“I’m from Australia. Hashimoto-san has a key.“

It was dawning on John in this moment that his Japanese was quite rubbish. He thought he could speak a bit more than that at least. All those years and this is what he would be able to say when the police came to question some guy with a suitcase knocking on the door of a closed bar which he couldn’t even read the name of.

Knock-knock-knock

In amongst the dormant bar, towards the back behind the counter, John saw some feet, then legs, and a body descending a narrow staircase. A man emerged who was not as narrow as the staircase but by no means overweight with a surprising level of grace. This must have been Hashimoto-san with his mustache, goatee, and long, black hair but tied up in a loose bun on top of his head. He wore a loose denim top and some dark shorts. As he approached, he bowed slightly and faintly smiled.

Hashimoto-san pushed open the door which appeared to have not been locked in the first place, “Sorry, sorry! I was sleeping and didn’t hear you knocking. You’re John, aren’t you? G’day mate!” He chuckled to himself and looked at John expectantly. John didn’t grasp everything he said, “Hi, I’m John, it’s nice to meet you. What’s your name? G’day!” He laughed nervously.

Hashimoto-san smiled kindly, “It’s nice to meet you John. My name is Hashimoto Ryosuke, but please just call me Ryo.” He spoke more slowly this time.

“Tadao is my Dad’s friend, and you have a key…” John tried his best to explain the situation.

Ryo smiled and nodded, “I know, the Tanaka’s are my friends too. They often come by here for drinks. We all grew up together.” Tadao and Tsukiko’s family name must have been Tanaka. Ryo continued slowly with lots of gestures, “I have their spare key, so if one of them is drinking here and gets a bit too drunk I can let them in.”

John was surprised to hear this, what kind of people had a key with their local bar? How was that even a thing? Maybe he didn’t quite catch what Ryo was saying.

“Do you want a drink or something to eat? You must be hungry, right?” Ryo patted John on the shoulder.John nodded, and Ryo gestured for him to come into the Bar.The bar smelled of faint cigarette smoke, beer, and a few other things that John couldn’t quite identify. Basically, it smelled like a bar.

“Sorry, sorry it’s a mess, put your suitcase anywhere and come take a seat. I want to hear about you!” Ryo got behind the bar and got busy wiping the bench and pulling a few things out of the fridge below the bar.John pulled up a seat and sat down watching Ryo; he wasn’t sure what to say, “It’s my first time in Japan, sorry, my Japanese isn’t very good…”

Ryo was whisking some eggs and adding what looked like soy sauce and a few other liquids into a bowl. He pulled out two of the thickest slices of white bread John had possibly ever laid eyes on and put them in a microwave-sized oven/grill. He pulled out a small frypan and set it on the stove. Tsk-Tsk-Tsk and then a huge flame surrounding the pan. He turned around and looked at John, “One thing is for sure, your Japanese is better than my English. This – is – not – a table. This – is – a – what was it again? – Fu-rai-pan!” He said as he pointed at the frypan and burst out laughing. John laughed along too but wasn’t entirely sure what was so funny, it must have been some kind of Japanese joke.

Ryo grabbed the bowl and poured the contents into the hot pan, tossed the bowl into the nearby sink, and grabbed two extremely long chopsticks. With a flame that strong, the scrambled eggs were done in no time.

Two slices of bread on a plate and the gooey scrambled eggs on top. Ryo pulled out what looked like a pepper shaker except all kinds of sprinkles came out – nori, sesame seeds, and brown-looking flakes. He slid the plate of food over to John, “Eat up! I’ll get you a drink.” He winked.

Ryo had an energy about him; John couldn’t place it, but he didn’t feel like he had just met Ryo. It was as if he was being looked after by a relative he saw every so often. Despite being quite rugged and almost grumpy-looking when he wasn’t smiling, Ryo was not at all intimidating.

Ryo walked out of the store, and John turned to his food. He took a bite – the bread was soft and almost sweet. The eggs were creamy, and the sprinkles on top were delicious. He swore he could almost taste some kind of fish.

By the time Ryo was back, John had cleared the plate. “Oh, you were hungry! Here’s a tea. It’s called genmai-cha. Good Japanese tea.” The tea was in a P.E.T bottle, but it was hot. John recalled drinking a tea like this before, but he could never remember the name. It was almost nutty and had a roasted earthy flavor. He remembered the label in his mind so he could get it again. Orange lid, lots of kanji, and a little blue teapot with a funny handle. The word warm was floating in a little orange bubble.

Ryo leaned in, “So, shall we go to the Tanaka residence? I think they’ve set up your room, and so I can show you everything.” John got himself off the stool and went for his suitcase, but Ryo grabbed the handle and started pulling it along as he walked out the door, “No, no let me do it. You must be tired.”

John muttered a thank you and gave a deep bow.Ryo chuckled, “Wow, look at you, so polite! Do they bow in Australia too?”

They walked up a street that had a few shops, John couldn’t tell what all of them were. Some words were in English and others were potentially French, but he wasn’t entirely sure.John realized there was no footpath or parking spaces, just a white line either side of the road. There were no nature strips, and some of the shop fronts had pots with plants and flowers outside. At this moment, it dawned on John that he was very much in another world. The parts were all the same, but the way things were arranged was different.“You’re lucky to be staying with the Tanaka’s; they have a really nice place! Very Japanese,” Ryo said out of nowhere, speaking slowly for John again. John just agreed because he didn’t know what to say.The shops fell away again, and there were more houses now.

“You know, pulling this suitcase makes me feel like I’m going on a holiday. Aaaah, to be able to travel somewhere!” Ryo seemed to be talking to himself rather than John specifically.
“Do you like traveling?” John asked.
“I love it! I went to Guam and Hawaii. I really wanna travel more, but how can I close the shop for that long?”
“Oh…I see. I haven’t been to Guam or Hawaii.”

They came to a rendered, white fence about two meters high, a stone base, and dark blue terracotta tiles capping off the top. They led to a slightly higher entrance with two transparent wooden doors. Ryo stopped at the gate, “Pretty nice right?”

John could see some of the single-story house over the fence, the walls were white, windows had wooden slats over them, and the roof used similar terracotta tiles. Pine trees grew tall above the fence.

Ryo pushed the gate open, and they walked in over large stones in amongst moss and other little plants growing around. The garden felt cool in the shade with greenery and large stones here and there.

There was no lawn, just moss and earth. There was a small pond in the corner, and the slow trickle of water from somewhere else.

“This has been in Tadao’s family for a while, and him and Tsukiko moved in after Tadao’s parents passed away.

It’s the most authentic Japanese place I know!” Ryo looked around almost proudly.

John was impressed and felt a bit out of place.

Ryo continued, “I think they have set up a room for you on the ground floor so you don’t have to worry about climbing stairs. I’ll show you around and then let you settle in.” He started leading John towards the door.

“In Japan, we don’t wear shoes in the house because it’s dirty. Whenever you come in, take your shoes off. Even if you are in a rush.” Ryo said to John as he removed his own shoes at the entrance.
John knew this but said thank you anyway as he did the same.

“You guys wear shoes in the house, right? Whenever I watch American movies, they even sit on their beds with shoes on! You foreigners sure are crazy,” Ryo kept on going as they got into the entrance.

“I don’t think many people wear shoes on their bed in Australia, actually…”
Ryo said nothing as he lugged John’s suitcase up a step from the entrance onto the main floor of the house. Even though it was so bright outside, the house was relatively dark. John was sure there were no people in the house, but he sensed something else as he stepped into the hallway.

Dark wooden floor, white-panelled walls framed with wood. The wood had an unusual smell. It was almost herbal, mossy, and maybe even peppery. It wasn’t overbearing, but it was very much present. John did not know what this smell was. Maybe this is what all Japanese homes smelled like.

Ryo slid open a door into a light-filled room. As John entered, he drank up the beauty of what he saw. It was a tatami room with a futon laid out in the centre, a low bedside table, opened shoji screens extending into what looked like a sunroom with a wooden floor and large floor-to-ceiling windows. The room was clean and minimal. He could see a small garden beyond with more small trees and rocks on the moss-covered floor. John thought to pinch himself; this was his bedroom?

“So, this is your bedroom,” Ryo piped in. He was looking out towards the sunroom with misty eyes and a faint smile on his face; it was as if he was recalling a memory as he looked out at the sunroom.

John walked around the room, walked towards the sunroom, and looked into the garden. It was so peaceful to look at; it felt like a warm hug. It felt like it was smiling at him. He imagined the times he would be sitting and studying or just watching the garden from the sunroom. He felt excited at the prospect. Memories that would be, things he would experience that he couldn’t even imagine.

“Let me show you the rest of the house; you’ll have all day to be in your room,” Ryo was already walking out of the bedroom.

During the tour, Ryo talked about spending time in the house as a kid; it was a lot of fun, and there was always something interesting. Especially during festivals nearby, Tsukiko, Tadao, and Ryo would get ready here, take a break here, and even sometimes all stay over during the summer holidays.

Ryo spoke with a lot of nostalgia in his voice, his face lit up as he recounted when looking into the kitchen or the bathroom and living areas which expanded when all the shoji screens were opened.

There was a hint of sadness in his voice though. John wondered what this might have been.

There was something about the way that Ryo told the story; John could almost see the house go back in time, and three children and then teenagers had various adventures both boring and eventful in a house that had seen it all. The emotions and memories were in the walls and the air. There was a lot of love in the house, but there was also something else. It was the feeling John felt as he stepped into the house for the first time at the entrance.

There was some food in the fridge and a note on the kitchen table telling John to help himself to whatever he wanted and that Tsukiko and Tadao would be home later on, a key lay next to the note.

In comparison to his bedroom, the kitchen was somewhat cluttered. Around the bench and sink, there were shelves of all kinds of sauces and packets of things. Mismatched porcelain cups hung on hooks, and the utensils were closer to the stove.

Cabinets filled with plates and bowls, a bookshelf overflowing with books and nick-nacks. The room was cluttered, but not dirty.

“John, I’m going to head off now; I bet you would like to rest and unpack a bit first. If you need anything, you know where I am. My place is upstairs from the bar, so drop by whenever you like! Even for a drink,” Ryo stood under the door frame, smiling.

The two walked towards the entrance, “Thank you for showing me everything. This house feels really special; there’s something…” John felt himself blurting out his thoughts.

Ryo looked mildly surprised, “Ah, yes. Don’t worry, they’re very kind. You have nothing to worry about. Tadao and Tsukiko are alright too.” He winked at John playfully.

They? John wondered to himself. Who else lived in this house?

After Ryo left, John took a shower and then soaked in the bath. As he soaked in the hot water with his eyes closed, he listened to the birds outside and the occasional drip of condensation from the tiled ceiling in the bathroom. There was an unreality about everything.

This time yesterday he was still in Melbourne with no idea what was ahead of him, and now he was in Tokyo, somehow managing to make it to his destination and having some interesting encounters on the way.

He unpacked his things and organized them in the closet space before pushing his suitcase into a space towards the back and out of sight. He didn’t want to see his suitcase because it only reminded him that his time in Japan was limited.

John looked around the room; he looked outside and felt peace. Without thinking, he crawled into the futon and closed his eyes.

As John slept, the sliding door to the garden opened ever so slightly, and something unseen bumped the wind chime as it entered the room before poking around and sneaking back out.

The flight from Melbourne to Tokyo was scheduled to leave at around midnight, but John had set his alarm for 9:00 AM to make sure everything was ready. He woke up at 5:00 AM.

For a moment, he lay there, believing that if he didn’t move too much, he might fall asleep again. This, of course, did not happen, and he watched as the faint purple and orange dawn slowly lit up the room with a vaporwave glow. John was absolutely exhausted, and his head was so foggy with sleep it almost hurt. He’d only had four hours of sleep after being up late the night before, researching the town he was meant to be staying in. No matter which way he looked at it, he couldn’t seem to work out where the central area of Tokyo was. When John looked on Google Earth, it all looked like one big city, but that wasn’t possible. Whenever he watched movies or anime set in Tokyo, he wondered which parts of Tokyo they were based on. He couldn’t seem to work it out.

Where did Shibuya end and Shinjuku start? Were they the main areas? What about Ikebukuro and Akihabara? They all seemed like large areas, and some of them weren’t even close to each other. How did Kichijoji fit into all of this? Was it a boring area? Where did everyone go on Saturdays and Sundays when they had their days off?

By the time John had actually gotten into bed, his hours-long internet search had produced more questions than answers. He realized he knew very little about Japan. The anime and manga he had pored over hadn’t really provided much useful insight. In bed, John was hot and bothered. He felt that sense of worry ballooning in his chest, but in the end, he was so exhausted he eventually succumbed to a light and restless sleep.

John had realized he would have no idea how Tokyo worked until he got there. He didn’t even know how he would get from the airport to Kichijoji. Maybe Tadao and Tsukiko would pick him up at the airport. John was going to have to ask Mum and Dad.

By the time he heard Dad shuffling around in the kitchen, John was dozing off and while he thought for a brief moment to get up, it didn’t happen. Once again, he entered a deep and dreamless sleep.

By the time John came to, it was nearly 2:00 PM. The painful exhaustion he felt in the morning when he first woke up was gone. Now, he had to get up.

He was terrified about what was waiting for him in Japan. He had never felt such a combination of excitement and dread in his life. John realized that things were going to be different. He was going to meet new people, even. People he didn’t know existed yet, people that didn’t know he existed yet. What a concept.

The rest of the day was a flurry of packing, cleaning, checking, repacking, worrying, re-checking, and then everything all over again.

When it came the time to head to the airport, the whole family crammed together in the car and sat mainly in silence apart from Theo coming up with some interesting facts about Japan. “Apparently, there’s this little street somewhere in Tokyo with hundreds of tiny little bars where some can only fit three or four people.” Dad seemed to be the only one capable of a response as he drove, “I heard the ceilings are low too because Japanese people aren’t the tallest!” He let out a laugh and looked around as if he expected everyone else to laugh too. All he got was a slap on the arm from Mum, “Stop it, don’t say silly things like that! Tadao wasn’t small at all! He was about 5’10”, wasn’t he?” Dad scoffed, “I’m only joking around, lover!”

They pulled into the airport and shuffled through the international terminal. It was eight o’clock, so there was still a fair amount of time before John had to go through the gates. John checked in his luggage and went to find everyone sitting down at one of the cafes. “So how do I get to their place?” John realized he still didn’t have any instructions. “Oh yes! I nearly forgot. So when you get there tomorrow morning, both Tsukiko and Tadao are going to be at work, but Tadao gave me an email with instructions; he said it’s pretty easy to get to this Kichijoji place from Narita.” Dad was searching his pockets. Mum shot him a look as she pulled some paper out of her bag, “You gave it to me, remember?” John looked at the paper in front of him.

1. Leave international terminal and find Narita Airport Limousine Bus Counter.

2. Get ticket to Kichijoji Station (Should cost 2000 yen).

3. From Kichijoji Station, find the park exit and look for the I 0 I 0 building and walk straight down the little street with lots of shops.

4. At the end of the street, you will see Inokashira Park; enter the park and walk around the lake to get to the other side (go from the left).

5. Walk up a small hill, and you will see Inokashira-koen station on one side and a 7-Eleven on the other side.

6. Please look for a shop that has 万星 written on the sign.

7. Please knock, and Hashimoto-san (man with long hair and a beard) will show you to the house. He has the key to give you.

8. Please make yourself comfortable at home! We will be home later. Sorry to make you wait.

It didn’t seem too complicated. John imagined he would probably be able to get to their place from the airport in about 1 hour, judging by the instructions. When John looked up, he noticed that everyone was looking at him. Dad asked, “So does it make sense?” “Well…as much sense as it can?” “I didn’t know they had 7-Eleven in Japan too…bloody globalization…” Mum seemed to mutter to herself. “You’ll be right, matey,” Dad said without looking so convinced. “If you have any problems though, you can speak Japanese, so you’ll be able to just ask someone, right?” Theo added encouragingly. John felt a pang in his chest. Well, could he? He hadn’t even thought about how good his Japanese actually was. “Oh…yeah, of course!” he blurted out.

The four sat around the table, sipping their drinks as people around them came and left from tables. There was a stream of announcements overhead, giving information about flights going to all kinds of places. Reminders to not leave baggage unattended. Terror warnings, reminders to be vigilant.

It got to about two hours before departure, and the group shuffled towards the doors before customs. John always felt like airports had a lot of emotion, but this spot was particularly emotional. It was a place where people parted ways. Not just with other people, but places and memories too.

See you soon, be safe, please come back, don’t go, this is the last time, goodbye, have fun. I love you more than anything.

Perhaps more bluntly, Dad called it the wailing wall. John had become increasingly aware that his Dad was probably not the best at dealing with intense emotional situations and became a deflector, particularly when things fell into the realm of sadness and loss. John recalled times growing up when whenever there was an emotional scene in a movie or TV show, Dad would loudly exclaim, “Ah! Too corny…they went too far,” before quickly losing interest in what was on. This was a frustrating situation for all involved. There were times when it seemed as if this reaction became almost contagious, with John witnessing other members of the family parroting along, including himself.
The only time John saw or heard Dad cry was when they found out his grandmother had passed. It was Mum that picked up the phone and went over to tell Dad, who stopped for a moment, then running off into the bedroom, letting out whimpers before closing the door behind him. John had never met his Great Grandmother, so he just looked shocked and didn’t say anything while the emotional pandemonium unfolded before him. He felt sad seeing his own father so upset but it also made him deeply uncomfortable because he didn’t know how he could help him.
It seemed that there were some events that could not be brushed off as too corny. Some things had to be experienced as they were intended.

John stood opposite his family. Theo stepped out first, “Have the best time, brother,” he pulled John in close. “Just be yourself, don’t hide.” He whispered. John felt his eyes sting slightly. Why was it that Theo knew exactly what to say?

Dad came in next and put his arm around John, pulling him in and kissing him on the head, “Be good, little fella…” His eyes were watery as he smiled at John. Dad pulled out of the hug and gave John two rough taps on the back before he turned to face the other way.

Finally, Mum came forward. Without a word, she pulled John in. He felt her trembling, “If anything happens, just let me know, okay?” She pulled a tissue out of her bag and dabbed her eyes, “Sorry. But it’s just going to be so quiet at home without you…they have earthquakes over there, so be careful…”

Theo put his arm around Mum; she looked so little and fragile next to him. Mum had a sharp tongue and held her ground, but at the heart of it, she was a deeply emotional, sensitive and caring person.

John didn’t care that he had tears streaming down his cheeks. He was overcome with emotion. There was so much going on inside. A mixture of sadness, excitement, dread, and possibility – and while he cried, he also felt numbness. It was overwhelming.
“See you in a few months!” John waved and turned towards the doors. His lip trembled slightly as he tried to smile at his family. They had gone through so much, and while his parents pissed him off sometimes, he realized how much they did for him and tried their best.

A man at the gate was checking boarding passes. He glanced at John and skimmed over the pass, “You can go through now.”

Until departure, the time went by in a surreal blur.

Passport stamped. Departed Australia.

Browsed shops in international departures.

Ate food to kill time.

As John boarded the plane, he looked around him. There were whispers of Japanese around him. Some of the flight attendants were Japanese too.

He took his seat, and it seemed he had the row to himself. John wished someone would sit next to him, and as each person walked past, he couldn’t help but look slightly hopeful that they might be the one to sit next to him. No one came to fill the seat, but John soon realized that this wasn’t such a bad thing. A flight attendant came over; he was clearly gay and could tell John was too, “Hey mister, that spot is empty, so feel free to lift the armrest up and spread out after we’ve taken off and the seatbelt sign is off.” He winked and walked off. John smiled and thanked him.

As the plane moved along the tarmac and slowly increased in speed, John was becoming increasingly aware that the announcements were bilingual.

The plane sped up and shook slightly before John felt the machine become airborne. John was flying. As of that moment, he no longer existed in Melbourne. John thought about what lay ahead; he couldn’t imagine anything. A rush of emotions came to him before he was overwhelmed with sleep. A tear rolled down his cheek.

With the day of departure soon approaching, John found himself thrown into a flurry of activities in the lead-up to his big adventure. He had enough winter clothes to take with him and a pair of boots in case it was wet or snowed, so it was more about buying things like souvenirs, frantically going over his Japanese textbooks to make sure he knew how to say what he needed to, and of course, trying to catch up with friends before he disappeared.

On the same day, three days before he left, John was having dinner with Dra and the gang in the city and had managed to get Kane to make time after his shift later that night. John always found that when it rained, it poured. Not only were there two social engagements on the same day but the same night. John didn’t tell anyone he was meeting Kane. His friends would be outraged to know he was finishing up a night with them prematurely for a boy.

“So did you ever hear from that guy from the club?”

“Hmm? Which one?” John asked aloofly.

Dra clapped his hands, “Look at this ho! He doesn’t even remember who he kissed.”

“Ohhh Kane? Yeah, we talk but he’s slow to reply.”

If it came up at a later date, John would just say he got a call from him before he left and they met up. No one needed to know specifically when.

John was good at lying, and it pained him that he could do it so well because he felt so inauthentic when he did. As inauthentic as he felt, it came so naturally that he wondered whether, in a really warped way, lying was, in fact, him being authentic. It was hard to tell.

At any rate, for now, he justified his lies in that they weren’t significant; no one was being hurt, and if anything, it served for some kind of better interaction with people. If his friends or family never found out about the lies he told, then what was lost apart from John’s apparent authenticity and genuineness? Though even then if a lie was never found out, then was it even a lie? John always found reality bizarre in that sense. Something was technically the truth if someone said it was, and even more so if they convinced those around them it was the case. During sleepless nights when John’s mind came to this – particularly before he came out, there would be moments where he realized that because he convinced some people he was straight, in a sense, he was straight. In people’s minds, he was a heterosexual male and that was a reality. But the more he attempted to do this, then what happened to his existing gay self? If his perceived straight reality ever became so strong that more people genuinely believed he was straight rather than gay, then what would become of him? He knew this didn’t actually mean he would become straight, but his existing self would then be confined to this realm where no one believed or knew about his gay self. This was a lie John was not comfortable continuing.
In the situation John currently found himself in, this was a lie he felt like he could justify. Once he left that dinner, there was no perceivable way that anyone in that group would ever know why he left when he did and for what reason. For all intents and purposes, the meeting would exist in a vacuum. Much in the same way that say if someone went on a vacation where no one knew them, they could be anyone they wanted to be and provided that reality and the one they regularly occupied never collided. What was the harm? There would be none, just a level of risk.

The dinner had finished, and Mary suggested they move to the JWOW wine bar, “Come on, let’s drink because we aren’t gonna see you for months!”

John felt torn; he wanted to have another drink, but he desperately wanted to meet Kane. He knew it would go nowhere and nothing would come of it, but deep down, he knew that if he didn’t meet Kane tonight, he would never move on. John could not have this following him to Japan. The last thing he needed was the spectre of some doomed romance coming with him as baggage. John had enough to take as it was.

He checked the time; he could probably stay for a drink or two, and it was only 7:30, and Kane’s shift wasn’t going to be over until 9:00, so John could stay around until about 8:30.

“Yeah! But I have to be on a tram at about 8:30 because I need to finish packing my room up.” John gave a relatively believable response.

“Ohhh what? Why are you packing your room up? You’re only going for a few months, no?” Kiki was looking at him with her eyebrows raised.

“My parents said they’re gonna do painting while I’m away so it’s easier if most of my stuff is packed up, and I don’t want them to find anything weird.”

Devon chuckled, “Ha! You’re worried they’re gonna find your dildo?”

“I don’t have anything like that!” John felt his cheeks burning. The others laughed, and Kiki rested her head on John’s shoulder, “I’m going to miss our baby!”

The table fell silent for a time. For a moment, John forgot about meeting Kane later on and thought about this group. They really had been there with him through so much; he felt like a part of him was raised by them. He couldn’t find the words immediately but felt like he needed to express something to everyone. Though, somehow the words weren’t… quite… forming…

“Oi! Let’s stop this sappy shit and have a drink. I’m sad enough Johnny won’t be here for three months! Now we know how he felt when we went back home each year during breaks.” Dra clapped his hands and snatched up the bill to pay.

As they walked to JWOW where John stayed for two drinks, any passerby would have seen a group of friends laughing and talking as they marched into a bar. They wouldn’t have known it was a night out before one of them departed.

While they sat in the subdued and cozy basement wine bar, the sun had completely set, and by the time John stumbled out, it was completely dark. Everyone hugged John tight and for a what felt like minutes, no one said word.
“Go eat some sushi and meet some cute boys!” Dra yelled, smiling broadly with his perfect teeth and dark hair framing his face.
“Love you guys! I’ll see you soon.” And with that John went on his way.

John fumbled for a moment and untangled the white cords to put his earphones in. The iPod Shuffle blasted “Electricity” by the Avalanches. But maybe it wasn’t even playing from his little device, it was as if it was playing all around him.

He felt light on his feet and decided to run for the tram. He had no idea if he had just missed it, whether he would just make it, or even if he still had plenty of time. John seemed to float across Swanston Street as he went straight down Little Lonsdale towards Elizabeth Street. The narrowness of the street, the old buildings on either side, and the dark gray shine of the bluestone under the streetlights all stood out. The plane trees that lined the street barely rustled in the light breeze, but John could feel and hear the rustle as if the whole world shivered with excitement just as he did in that very moment.

The world was pushing John in the direction he was meant to be going. He glided right and skirted around the edge of Melbourne Central before weaving through a break in the traffic and getting to the tram stop.

The song continued to blast around him, and John pulled out his earphones and confirmed that his iPod wasn’t playing the song. It was playing all around him. He felt short of breath and closed his eyes momentarily. In that split second, the world changed.

John found himself on an empty Elizabeth Street with no people, cars, or trams. It was just John, the streetscape, and the music. A light fog hung around him and he could only barely make out the end of the street towards Flinders Street Station but noticed two dim lights growing as they moved towards him.

A tram was coming up the empty street.

As it approached, John noticed there was nothing written on the destination, and there was no driver as the tram came to the stop where he was waiting.

John looked around him; it was just him.

The tram doors opened silently as the music came to a slight lull. He felt a tingle wash over him. What was this? He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew that he was getting on this tram. He took one last look around the city.

He wasn’t coming back to this place for a while.

John stepped on wordlessly. The doors closed, and the tram departed.

It was only John on the tram, and he took a seat near the window in the mid-section like he always did. He looked outside, and the street was filled with onlookers waving and clapping at the tram, at John. The closer he looked, he recognized these people from all different times of his life. His kindergarten teacher was there standing next to his Japanese teacher, and then further along were his grandparents and even some of his classmates from primary school. John wondered how drunk he must have been, but it didn’t feel like he was drunk; this was different.

The tram sped up, and all the people he could see disappeared into a blur.

John reclined slightly and felt a deep drowsiness fall over him.

Whatever world John slipped into, he was placed right back into his own as he slept.

There was complete silence and nothingness.

A jolt made John come to. He looked around slightly panicked, where was he?
The tram was crossing over the Moonee Ponds Junction before the stop. John got to his feet and checked the time; it had only been 25 minutes since he got on the tram.

John only remembered leaving JWOW and running to the tram before everything trailed off into some fogginess. He couldn’t seem to remember the tram ride. He must have fallen asleep he thought to himself.
Getting off at the Junction, John felt refreshed, he felt light.
Again, he couldn’t quite place what had been lifted…

Taking out his phone, he sent Kane a message, “Hey I’m here. Let me know when you’re done and where to meet you.”

While waiting, John walked up a deserted Puckle Street with half of its shops vacant and the rest filled with average tenants. The only store he found exciting in the area was the comic book store on Everage Street just off Hall Street. John often bought manga there and frequented it in high school when he used to play Counter Strike with friends at the now-closed internet café on the corner of Everage and Hall. What had it become since it closed… some kind of restaurant or café. Whenever John walked past it, he couldn’t help but feel a little sadness.

John’s phone vibrated, “Finished, meet me in the car park near the Park Street entrance.”

John took a right down the arcade through to Hall Street. It was dark and uninviting with the feint smell of urine lingering in the air. The cream coloured rendered walls were darkened with dust and grime. A mural made by a nearby public primary school made John wonder what the hopes for this arcade were when it first opened. Is this how they imagined it would become?

The side of Hall Street where the arcade led to was desolate since the Old Market had been demolished, and the site remained as a temporary car park.
Development had stalled for various reasons and now the memories of what the market even looked like were beginning to fade. John could only remember one of the entrances and a shop where his grandmother worked at.  He remembered a coin-operated horse ride that would unimaginatively moved up and down for about half a minute before a parent would be required to put in another 30 cents or so. It was all gone now.

John cut right through the Old Market and felt a familiar prickle in the air as he did. No matter when he walked through the Old Market – day or night, he felt something around him. He felt eyes on him but nothing had ever presented itself. What it was, John was not entirely sure.

The Coles car park was nearly empty apart from employees’ cars, and John walked to the opposite end of the comparatively well-lit space to find Kane waiting by the small pedestrian entrance to Park Street.

“Hey,” Kane was still in his work shirt but had a light jumper over the top.

“Hi,” John felt nervous.

“Let’s go for a walk around Queens Park and then I can drop you home?” Kane had already started walking up and out onto Park Street.

John followed without a word.

The park was devoid of people like the rest of the area. People were in their homes doing family things or getting ready to go to work, school, or who knows what. The air was cool and carried the smell of leaves, wood, and nighttime moisture. The darkness engulfing the park was periodically broken by the lamps surrounding the lake and the moon hanging above and giving the everything a silver glow.

“So you’re going? Where was it again?” Kane asked after a long silence.

“I’m going to Japan. I’ll be back, but yeah… I’m leaving.”

“Wow… why though?” He stopped and looked at John.

“Well…I’ve always wanted to go, and long story short, my parents’ friends moved back there and said I could stay with them for a few months so it’ll be really cheap.” John felt himself needing to justify what he was being asked.

Kane chuckled, “Nah, nah, I was just asking. That’s really cool.”

“They eat sushi over there, right?”

“Among other things.” John laughed and rolled his eyes.

Kane smiled, and John realized he was only able to get a proper look at Kane just now. His stubble was brown in some spots and white-blonde ginger in others. His eyes were a light brown, which seemed even more striking against his darker hair. Kane was a little taller than John and seemed athletic judging by the way his clothes hugged his shape. There was no other way about it; Kane was a hottie.

“It’s a shame because I won’t be able to do this with you much longer.” Kane swiftly moved right in and kissed John deeply. The electric feeling spread through John’s body more intensely than it did before.

John kissed back now and between the two, it was a battle of passion. Pushing onto one another against a tree off the path and veiled by the night.

The two wordlessly continued, and Kane’s hands began to move around John’s body and towards his pants. He slipped his hands underneath John’s pants and gently grabbed.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. That’s hot as,” Kane said through his panting.

Kane took John’s hand and directed it downward, where John felt what seemed to be something particularly long and thick, much bigger than his own. John slipped his hand into Kane’s pants to touch it properly; it was warm, almost hot like some living thing. Kane circled his finger over the tip of John’s wet head and slightly under the foreskin.

John pulled back for a moment as his knees weakened in ecstasy.

They kissed some more before John felt Kane’s hand on the top of his head applying downward pressure, “You wanna taste it?”

John nodded wordlessly and let Kane’s hand push him down.

Kane undid his pants and whipped it out in front of John’s face.

It was huge. It looked bigger than it felt in his hand, and John didn’t even know how to approach it.

He looked up at Kane wordlessly. Kane smiled, “Don’t worry, if its too much, just stop at any time.”

With one hand, Kane held himself, dripping wet; he stroked it so the foreskin moved back and forth over the head. With his other hand, he guided John’s head closer to him and moved it towards his mouth. John opened up and felt it slide in.

The taste was sweet and salty; there was the slightest musty smell, and John was unsure what to do but made sure he moved his tongue over gently and avoided his teeth getting involved.

Kane moaned.

John kept going. It didn’t seem so hard, but he could feel his jaw becoming tired, and in the back of his mind, he was also worried that they would be caught. He looked around for a moment, but the park was just as deserted as it was before.

“Don’t worry. I’m keeping a lookout. Keep going; I’m getting close,” Kane said from above.

His grip on John’s head became firmer, and his thrusts became deeper and slightly more frequent. John felt saliva dripping down as it moved in and out of his mouth with increasing intensity. This continued for a time and in the midst of it all, John was hoping he didn’t start gagging and coughing but he seemed to be fine.

Kane’s movements quickened again and his body seemed to tense up as he yelled “Fuck, I’m gonna come!” One last deep thrust, and John felt a warm burst inside his mouth as Kane erupted with an intensity that shook his whole body. There was so much, and John felt that he would either have to swallow it or spit it out; Kane didn’t seem finished yet, so John just swallowed it down.

It was bitter, it was sweet and a little bit salty. Above all of that, it was thick and warm.
Kane stood motionless except for his heavy breathing, and John slowly stood up.

“That was amazing. You’re really good,” Kane was looking at John in disbelief.

“Actually, I’ve never done it before.”

“Get fucked, are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know. I would have been a bit more romantic if I knew that!”

“Nah, I always wanted to, so I’m glad I could.”

“Woah, fuck, okay… orright, let me do you.” Kane got on his knees and unzipped John’s pants. John was still hard and wet.

“Is this a first too?”

John nodded and laughed awkwardly.

“Just relax and enjoy yourself.” Kane winked as he looked up at John.

Kane took John into his mouth. It was warm and soft. Kane’s tongue moved in, over, and around in a methodical pattern. It felt like Kane was trying to pull John further in as he did this, working on him to draw something. John’s eyes closed as he allowed himself to be drawn in further. As he did so, he felt something growing within him, with growing intensity it made him want to thrust further and grow the feeling. He wanted to let it out, and Kane was helping him. John put his hands around Kane’s head and felt his soft hair in his hands.

“I’m close!” John managed as he was taken over by the feeling. It was reaching a point, and he thought he might explode. Kane breathed deeply as he moved harder and faster.

John lost control as his body exploded with fireworks. He could feel himself erupting into Kane’s mouth. Kane drew something out of John that no one else had.

The feeling left, and John felt almost empty; his breathing was quick and sharp.

Kane stood up and kissed him, “How was that?”

“Yeah… good… wow!”

Kane laughed before he stood up and pulled John into a long embrace.

After the two cleaned up, they continued their walk around the lake.

“I’m pretty new to this myself, so I haven’t really been with many guys. Why is this just your first time?”

“Oh, I’ve never really been popular, so no one had ever really shown an interest in me.”

“That’s fucked, and it’s their loss. You’re a sexy guy, and you need to believe that you are.” Kane looked deeply into John as he said this.

John felt like he wanted to say something but couldn’t, didn’t.

The two continued on in silence for a short time.

Queens Park was still at that moment. Ducks hidden away from view chattered in hushed tones. The moon still floated wordlessly in the sky, watching over two souls sharing a moment together.

“I saw this fortune teller a few weeks back; she told me I was going to disappear, and then last week out of the blue, Mum and Dad told me I’m going to Japan.” John stopped for a moment and wondered why he was telling Kane this, but he felt like he needed to share it, “Anyway, since that time, I’ve been having the most weird experiences. I feel like I have nothing left to do here, and the world I exist within now knows that too, so it’s pushing me out.”
Verbalizing it made it sound even more absurd, but John also felt relieved to have told someone.

Kane paused for a moment, gazing up at the moon before turning his attention to something in the trees. “Did you ever play video games? Do you play video games?” he asked suddenly. His face looked serious, almost solemn.

“Here and there. What about you?” John replied, intrigued by Kane’s change in demeanor.

“I’m not making small talk, don’t worry. You know when you get to a certain point in the game, you’ve solved a problem or beaten one of the big bosses?” Kane continued.

“Yeah,” John nodded, following Kane’s lead.

“You know how with some games, when you’ve done that, you can kind of freely explore every part of the game up until that point? You can do that, but the next stage is waiting for you somewhere, and you need to find it so you can progress,” Kane explained.

John listened intently, absorbing Kane’s analogy. They stood on the opposite side from where they had shared their physical moment, contemplating Kane’s words.

“You going away is like moving to the next part of the game, your life. You’ve completed this level, and until you move on, you walk around this level, and things kind of seem jarring and awkward,” Kane elaborated.

John didn’t expect such profound insights from Kane, but then again, he didn’t know what to expect. Their only interaction before this had been an exchange of saliva on the dance floor.

“So right now, everything and everyone around me is reacting as if to say, ‘Hey, what are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?'” John mused.

“Yeah… but maybe only where your business is finished, so to speak. I think we were meant to meet tonight, and that’s why it worked out the way it did,” Kane offered.

“So this is our business then?” John questioned, seeking clarification.

“Well, it’s not business, but maybe we just need to experience certain things with certain people in certain ways, and that’s it. Neither you nor I control this, John. It’s bigger than us,” Kane concluded.

John understood, or at least he thought he did. It was a lot to process, but it made sense. Not everything had completely sunk in.

“Well, I’m glad it was with you,” John admitted, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Same,” Kane replied, returning the smile.

The two fell into a comfortable silence as they walked back to the car park. It wasn’t awkward, and at times, John didn’t even realize Kane was there. This wasn’t just an experience John had to have; it was an experience Kane had to have too.

If everyone was playing the game of life, then everyone was the hero of their own story. Kane was right; this was bigger than just one person. What impact did John have on Kane’s story? Was it obvious either way? He didn’t know, and he didn’t even feel like he could ask.

As they drove, the streets were quiet, and shops were closed. Kane’s radio didn’t work, and John wound down the window to feel the rush of air on his face. Closing his eyes, he imagined what lay ahead of him, embracing the unknown with a sense of anticipation.

When they arrived at John’s home, Kane leaned in to kiss him. They lingered for a moment before parting.

“Thank you, honestly,” Kane said softly.

John nodded. “Same here. I’m really glad I got to see you before I leave.”

Kane smiled, and John got out of the car. Leaning down to the passenger window, he waved silently as Kane drove away, disappearing into the night.

The street was quiet, nothing moved, and there was very little sound, just the low whoosh of the freeway in the distance.

John quietly opened the security door, heavily leaning as he pushed the handle down. The house felt warm, the air thicker. He moved silently over the carpet, avoiding the part of the floor that creaked and then gliding over the timber floor in the living area toward his room.

John lay on his bed in the dark, his heart pounding heavily, eyes wide as the memories of the night flickered in the darkness before him.  

He felt lighter than he did before, so light that he might float up into the air at that very moment.

Drifting off into a deep sleep, John found himself in a forest near the mountains, the air was cold and he sensed someone next to him. He turned to look and see who it was and felt a sense of calm wash over him. John laughed, “Oh, it’s you!”

By the time John woke up he would forget the most important details of the dream. He would be frustrated with himself that he couldn’t remember who was always appearing next to him.

At this point in time, John wasn’t mean to know who was next to him the whole time during those brief glimpses into this other world.

The red strings had adjusted slightly again.

It had been a little over a week since QnA, and while John had been texting Kane, the pace wasn’t as thrilling as John had hoped. Lying on his bed, he replayed their kiss in his mind, imagining the press of Kane’s lips, the wrestling of their tongues, and the heat of his body pressed against his own. The memory made him restless. 

Yet, for all the longing, John was also terrified of seeing Kane again. His lack of experience gnawed at him. Kane had to be more experienced, right? What if he expected more than John could give? 

Despite the mix of emotions, one thing was clear: John had gotten a taste, and now he wanted more. 

The version of events John told his parents about that night at QnA had been heavily edited: a few drinks, dancing with friends, and a stop at McDonald’s on the way home. 

Mum’s most dramatic reaction? A disappointed, “I can’t believe you had that garbage in the middle of the night.” 

John had to stifle a laugh. If she knew how many people he’d kissed, a poorly timed trip to McDonald’s would have been the least of her worries. 

It was another lazy day with no plans, and John spent the afternoon on his computer, clicking through random searches. Having a computer in his room felt liberating, but he dreamed of owning a laptop so he could scroll from the comfort of his bed. 

That dream felt distant, though—his bank account was laughable, and his supermarket shifts hadn’t restarted since exams ended. He debated looking for a new job but didn’t want to deal with rejection. 

In his boredom, a thought struck him. Dra and Devon had once mentioned meeting guys online. Was that still a thing? 

He hesitated but gave it a shot, typing into the search bar: 

“Meet gay men online Melbourne” 

Gaydar. Manhunt. Dozens of sites popped up. He clicked one. Images of shirtless, grinning men with perfect teeth filled the screen. They laughed, posed, and leaned seductively on each other beneath the banner: 

“Meet hot guys in your area now!” 

John’s face burned. His hands grew clammy, and he quickly exited the page. 

Not today. 

John wandered into the kitchen, where Mum was mixing what looked like mince, parsley, and breadcrumbs in a large metal bowl. 

“You’re home for dinner tonight, aren’t you?” she asked without looking up. 

“Yeah, no plans,” John said. 

“Good. We have a surprise,” Mum said, her voice teasing, though her expression betrayed nothing as she went back to mixing. 

“What’s the surprise?” 

“You’ll see,” she said with a grin. “Trust me, you’ll never guess.” 

John gave up trying to read her and turned on the TV at her request. The Bold and the Beautiful was starting, and as always, it didn’t take long to pick up the gist of the overly dramatic arcs. He half-watched as his mind turned back to the surprise. A laptop for uni? Some kind of gift card? He couldn’t come up with anything else. 

Eventually, the episode ended, and the sound of the front door bell—Dad’s keys jingling—signaled his arrival. 

John greeted Dad as he came in, receiving a hug and a kiss on the head. 

“Coffee, boys?” Mum called out from the kitchen. 

Dad nodded. “Thanks, lover.” 

“I’ll have one too,” John said, hoping coffee would speed up the revelation of this surprise. 

Mum moved efficiently, putting on the machine as Dad and John sat at the table. The rich aroma of freshly ground beans filled the room, mixing with the savory scent of the meatballs simmering on the stove. 

Dad sipped his coffee, smiling as he exchanged pleasantries with Mum. But beneath the casual conversation, John could feel something brewing. 

Finally, Mum turned to him, her excitement barely contained. 

“Darling, do you remember Tadao? That Japanese man your dad used to work with?” 

John shook his head. 

“Well, we’ve kept in touch with him and his wife, Tsukiko,” she continued, her grin widening. 

“They’re lovely people,” Dad chimed in. “Very kind. And we told them all about you studying Japanese.” 

John blinked. Was this about private lessons? 

“So,” Mum said, her voice rising with excitement, “we have a surprise for you.” She looked at Dad. “Do you want to tell him?” 

Dad beamed. “What if we told you that this time next week, you’ll be in Japan?” 

John tilted his head, the words not quite registering. 

“What?” 

“You’re going to Japan,” Mum repeated, practically glowing. “You’ll be staying with Tadao and Tsukiko for a few months as a graduation present!” 

John stared at them, uncomprehending. “I… how?” 

“We’ve been planning this for months,” Dad said. “We already got your ticket and some yen sorted. Tadao and Tsukiko offered to host you for free, so most of your expenses are covered. We’ll send you money as you need it.” 

“I… I don’t know what to say.” 

“A thank you and a hug would be a good start,” Mum said with a laugh, her eyes shining with unshed tears. 

John’s throat tightened as a wave of emotion washed over him. Before he could speak, the tears spilled over, and he began to sob. 

The intensity of John’s reaction caught even him off guard. His parents hugged him tightly, their warmth grounding him as his emotions ebbed and flowed. 

He was excited—Japan had always been a dream. But he was also terrified: What if he couldn’t communicate? What if he made a fool of himself? What about Kane and the life he’d just started exploring? 

For now, those thoughts were drowned out by gratitude and the overwhelming realization of how much his parents cared, despite their differences. 

At dinner, Mum and Dad explained the details. He wouldn’t need a visa for his three-month stay. Tadao and Tsukiko lived in Kichijoji, a charming suburb west of Tokyo. 

“They’re a fun couple,” Mum said. “Tsukiko’s a little kooky, but she’s kind. Tadao’s solid—a good fella.” 

John thanked them repeatedly, feeling almost guilty for how he’d resented them lately. They’d done all of this for him. 

That night, John lay in bed, unable to sleep. His thoughts were a tangle of excitement, nerves, and questions. He got up, turned on his computer, and started researching everything he could about Japan. 

By the time fatigue finally claimed him, he was sprawled on his bed, his head buzzing with half-formed plans and possibilities. 

For the first time in weeks, he didn’t dream. 

Chapter 4: Eighteen

Ever since his reading with Serena, John felt as if the world around him was quietly unraveling. The familiarity of his surroundings seemed fragile, like a thin veil peeling back to reveal what had been hidden underneath. 

It reminded him of summers when the family returned from day trips to find the house overheated. The Blu-Tack holding up his posters would soften in the heat, causing them to droop or fall. The blank spaces they left behind revealed forgotten marks and scuffs on the wall, imperfections he hadn’t realized were there. 

That’s how everything felt now—exposed. 

Serena’s words had lingered in his mind, especially the story she hinted at—the old woman from the village who had passed on her gift to John’s grandfather. Serena had said his mother likely knew more about it. 

John wanted to ask her, but the timing never seemed right. 

Thursday arrived with little fanfare. John had spent the last few days helping his mum with chores, her sore shoulders making it difficult for her to do things around the house. Despite their time together, John still hadn’t brought it up. 

Finally, on the car ride to Dra’s apartment, John decided to ask. 

“Can I ask you something about Pappou?” 

“Why do you ask?” 

“I spoke to someone recently,” John said cautiously, “and they mentioned something about a healer, a woman Pappou knew. They said you might know more about it.” 

Her hands tightened on the wheel. 

“Yes,” she said finally. “But promise me you won’t say anything to your father. He really doesn’t like it.” 

John nodded. 

She continued, her voice softer now. “I have it too, but not as strong. I think you’ve inherited it more fully.” 

“Why do you think that?” 

“All those times you came to us, telling us you’d seen or heard things. I knew what it was.” 

His mum began to tell the story, her words confirming what Serena had alluded to. 

“There was an old woman in the village, a healer of sorts. People went to her when doctors couldn’t help. She took away the evil eye, lifted curses, things like that. 

“Pappou spent a lot of time with her when he was young. She showed him many things but only taught him a little. Before she died, she whispered something in his ear. He couldn’t understand the words, but he felt as if part of her had entered him. She told him the world was changing—from the old ways to the new—and she could only pass on fragments of her gift. 

“She died that night.” 

John sat in silence, letting her words sink in. The answer raised more questions than it resolved. 

“I know I’ve seen ghosts,” he said finally. “And I’ve had dreams—dreams that warn me about things.” 

His mum nodded. “It’s the same for me. But you’re stronger.” 

For the first time in years, John felt a closeness to his mum he hadn’t thought possible. 

Was this the point of Serena’s reading? To bring them closer? 

Inside Dra’s apartment, the familiar chaos of pre-drinks was already underway. Music blasted from a speaker, and the group—Mary, Dra, Kiki, and Devon—crowded around the kitchen bench, mugs of cheap champagne in hand. 

“Johnny!” Mary shrieked, pulling him into a hug. 

“How do you feel?” Dra asked, handing him a mug. 

“To finishing high-school!” Devon declared, raising his drink. 

As John clinked mugs with the group, he felt the energy of the night take over. The awkwardness he often carried melted away, replaced by a growing sense of belonging. 

Despite their glamorous outfits and confident personalities, the group drank champagne out of mismatched mugs. 

“Why mugs?” John asked, curious. 

The room burst into laughter. Kiki finally explained, “We tried being classy with champagne glasses, but they kept breaking! So Brie, this rich bitch we know, said, ‘Stop pretending to be classy bitches and just use mugs!’ And we’ve been doing it ever since.” 

The simplicity and humor of it made John smile. 

“To mugs!” Dra declared, raising his drink again. 

The streets of the city were alive in a way John had never seen. It was like another world, one that emerged only after the shops closed and the office workers disappeared. Neon signs flickered in the shadows, and groups of friends, couples, and strangers wove through the streets, the hum of excitement threading them together.

The line outside QnA moved faster than John expected, his nerves barely having time to settle before they reached the entrance.

The music hit him first. Loud and pulsating, the bassline reverberated through his chest. The air was thick—smoke mingling with sweat and a dozen different colognes. Dra grabbed John’s hand, pulling him through the crowd with practiced ease.

“I’ll show you around, and then we’ll dance!”

The club unfolded like a maze of sensory overload. The main dance floor was vast and cavernous, its walls bathed in shifting projections that pulsed to the beat. A mezzanine level offered shadowy alcoves and tucked-away seating, while a second bar glowed faintly in the corner of a smaller, crowded dance area. Everything felt chaotic, gritty, but oddly comforting.

John’s senses reeled. The music seemed to vibrate in his bones, each beat propelling him forward into a space where he wasn’t hiding.

On the main floor, the group began to dance. At first, John hesitated, feeling awkward and unsure. Everyone around him moved with effortless confidence, their bodies swaying and snapping to the music like it was second nature.

But then he closed his eyes.

He let the rhythm guide him, shaking off the weight of his self-consciousness. The music wasn’t asking him to be good at this. It was asking him to move, to be.

The song changed, and the mood on the floor shifted. The energy became more fluid, more intimate.

That’s when he saw him—a sandy-haired guy with stubble and dimples standing across the room. Their eyes met for a brief, charged moment before John quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the music. But curiosity got the better of him, and when he glanced back, the guy was still watching him, smiling now.

John’s pulse quickened, his chest tight with a mix of excitement and terror.

The guy moved closer, his confidence unnerving but magnetic.

“You’re cute,” he said, leaning in to be heard over the music. “What’s your name?”

“John,” he replied, his voice barely audible over the pounding bass.

“I’m Kane.”

The guy’s hand brushed against John’s, rough but deliberate, a quiet question.

Moments later, their lips met.

The kiss was raw and electric, John’s world narrowing to this single, dizzying connection. The music faded into a blurred hum; the lights became nothing but a backdrop. He felt Kane’s hands, the faint taste of beer, the warmth of his body against his own.

It was everything he’d imagined and nothing like it at the same time.

When they finally pulled apart, Kane smiled, his dimples deepening.

“Can I get your number?”

John fumbled with Kane’s phone, his fingers shaking as he typed in his number.

“I work at Coles in Moonee Ponds,” Kane said. “Maybe we can hang out sometime?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” John managed, still breathless.

Kane kissed him again, softer this time, before disappearing into the crowd.

For a moment, John stood in a daze, his lips tingling from the kiss. He had just kissed someone—here, in this wild, unapologetic space.

But the night wasn’t over.

Back on the dance floor, the group welcomed him back as if nothing had happened. The music shifted again, and John noticed a guy and a girl dancing nearby, their movements synchronized and playful. The guy leaned closer to John, smiling, and without much thought, John leaned in and kissed him too.

It was nice, but it wasn’t the same.

Later, a girl with fiery red hair and a bold smile pulled John into a kiss. Her lipstick smudged slightly as she laughed against his lips, her hands resting on his shoulders. It was fun—exhilarating, even—but again, it wasn’t quite like Kane.

By the time they left the club, John felt weightless and full all at once, the haze of alcohol and music buzzing in his veins.

The night ended at McDonald’s, where the group traded stories and laughs over burgers and fries, their glamor slightly dimmed by the fluorescent lighting but their spirits still high.

John didn’t remember much about what he ate or the taxi ride home. He only remembered how heavily he reeked of smoke when he finally climbed into bed, his body still buzzing from the night’s energy. 

When John finally crawled into bed, his body still buzzing from the music and the memories, he couldn’t help but smile. For the first time, he felt like he’d stepped into the version of himself he’d always wanted to be.

As he lay there, memories of Kane’s kiss replayed in his mind. His lips tingled, and his ears still rang with the club’s music.  On the edge of sleep, John wondered if he was floating—or if it was just his imagination. 

On Tuesday morning, John woke up with a strange feeling, like something had shifted overnight. Relief about going out on Thursday played a part, but this was different—less tangible, as if something inside him had stirred but refused to show itself fully. 

He rolled onto his side, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the gaps in his blinds. The air was already heavy with heat, even though it couldn’t be much later than seven. Grabbing his phone, he confirmed the time: 7:01 a.m. Close enough. A message from Mary lit up his screen: 

“Johnny!!! ‘Dra said you’re coming to QnA on Thursday. Do you wanna join me for shopping and something fun today? Trust me, you’ll love it x.”

John smiled. Mary had a way of making everything seem like the best idea in the world. While ‘Dra was more reserved and introspective, Mary was an unstoppable burst of energy. She could light up a room and drag everyone into whatever plan she had dreamed up. 

This would be the first time they spent one-on-one time together, and John was both excited and slightly nervous. He typed out a quick reply: “Yes! What time and where?” 

Pulling himself out of bed, John headed to the kitchen, where the smell of toast and coffee greeted him. His dad sat at the table, watching the morning news with his usual ricotta-topped toast in hand. 

“Morning, matey,” his dad said, his voice muffled by a mouthful of food. 

“Morning,” John mumbled back, shuffling over to the coffee machine. 

The news anchor droned on about inquiries into the Black Saturday bushfires and incidents of prams nearly rolling onto train tracks across Melbourne’s rail network. His dad made a disapproving sound, shaking his head at the grim stories. 

“You know,” his dad said, “I get why you’re excited to go out with your friends, but your mum and I—we just worry, that’s all.” 

John sighed, feeling the weight of another well-meaning parental lecture. “Yeah, but I’m not doing anything wrong.” 

“I know, believe me, I know,” his dad said, setting his toast down. “It’s just a lot for us to process. There’s a lot we don’t know, and that’s scary for us.” 

“I’m not going to do anything stupid,” John said, sipping his coffee. “Besides, didn’t you tell me once that you drove a car off a cliff and barely got out in time?” 

His dad paused, then broke into a sheepish grin. “Yeah, that was… something. At the time, everything felt great—like my friends and I were invincible. But when you get older, you realize how fragile things really are.” 

John studied him for a moment. His dad wasn’t especially tall, but his solid build and steady presence had always made him seem larger than life. The streaks of gray in his hair and the faint lines around his eyes softened that impression now. 

“We just want you to be happy,” his dad said simply. 

For a moment, John felt the tension ease. “I know,” he replied, managing a small smile. 

After exchanging a few more messages with Mary, John found himself on a tram heading into the city by late morning. The trip usually took around 40 minutes, though he always added extra time in case of delays. 

John had been riding the tram into the city for years, watching it evolve with every trip. He remembered when Daimaru closed and Melbourne Central took its place, transforming the cityscape into something that seemed more vibrant and exciting each year. 

Today’s destination was St. Jerome’s, a place Mary had mentioned but John had never heard of. When he arrived at Caledonian Lane, just behind Myer, he wasn’t sure what to expect. 

The lane was drenched in sunlight, and the faint hum of music drifted through the air. The restaurants backing onto the lane looked unremarkable. An older man sat on the steps outside one, his tanned face turned to the sun as he took a long drag of his cigarette. 

John hesitated in front of an unassuming door. The entrance was flanked by fake vines and a makeshift bench, with no sign to confirm if this was St. Jerome’s. 

Swallowing his nerves, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. 

The sudden shift from the blinding sun to the dimly lit interior was jarring. A faint smell of toast mingled with the aroma of something herbal. 

“Hey, you!” called a girl with a sharp fringe and tattoos behind the bar. 

“Uh… hi,” John stammered. 

“You’re at St. Jerome’s,” she said, laughing lightly. 

“I’m meeting someone,” he said, glancing around nervously. 

“Sexy girl with the big hair?” the bartender asked, gesturing toward the courtyard. “She’s out back.” 

Blushing, John shuffled past her and into the cramped space. The mismatched lamps, odd figurines, and scribbled chalkboards gave the bar a strange, chaotic charm. It felt like stepping into someone’s cluttered but cozy living room. 

Outside, Mary was waiting with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She raised her bottle in a silent toast. 

“Johnny!” she exclaimed as he approached, pulling him into a hug. “Congratulations! You’re free from VCE hell!” 

They caught up over drinks, Mary regaling John with the latest gossip from their group. As always, she listened intently when it was John’s turn to speak, giving him her full attention in a way that felt rare and refreshing. 

“You know, schoolies is overrated,” Mary said, taking a drag of her cigarette. “Have fun in your own city—it’s way better.” 

John glanced up at the patch of sky visible between the surrounding buildings. It felt surreal to be here, just steps away from the Myer store he’d visited countless times with his family, yet in a world that felt entirely new. 

“Okay,” Mary announced, snapping him back to the moment. “We’re going shopping, and then we’re getting our cards read.” 

“Cards?” 

“Tarot, babe. You’ll love it.” 

John hesitated but agreed. He decided not to mention it to his parents; they didn’t need to know everything. 

—

Later, they arrived at the Royal Arcade, its intricate tiles and glass roof lending the place an almost otherworldly atmosphere. Spellbox sat nestled among the old shops, its wooden shelves brimming with crystals and books. 

The woman at the counter greeted Mary warmly. “Hello, darling. And who’s this?” 

“This is John,” Mary said. “He’s here for a reading with Serena.” 

The woman’s gaze lingered on John for a moment, her expression unreadable. “Ah, yes. Follow me.” 

John ascended the creaky wooden stairs, each step groaning underfoot. At the top, a woman waited. 

“John,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Come in.” 

The small room was quiet and dim, with an air of something ancient and knowing. Serena gestured for him to sit. 

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. 

John blinked. “What do you mean?” 

She smiled faintly. “Place your hand on the deck and ask your question silently.” 

Hesitant but curious, John did as he was told. **What’s going to happen to me?** 

When he lifted his hand, Serena began shuffling. 

“You’re going to disappear,” she said, her voice calm but deliberate. “In a short time, you will no longer be here. You’ll be somewhere else entirely.” 

John’s stomach twisted, her words both thrilling and unnerving. 

“This does not mean death,” Serena added. “It rarely does.” 

She studied him carefully. “You can see, can’t you? It’s something your mother passed down to you—something very old but incomplete. Speak to her when the time feels right. Ask her about the old healer your Grandfather was friends with when he was a boy. She’s been waiting to tell you.” 

John’s heart pounded, his mind a whirl of emotions—fear, excitement, curiosity. 

“Any questions?” Serena asked. 

He shook his head. The answers he wanted felt just out of reach, waiting to reveal themselves in time. 

“Good luck, John,” Serena said, standing as he did. 

Outside, Mary greeted him eagerly. “Well? How was it?” 

“It was… nuts,” John said, still processing. 

The rest of the day passed in a haze of shopping and conversation. As the tram carried him home through a pink and purple sunset, John leaned his head against the window, his thoughts racing. 

Where was he going? And what did disappearing really mean? 

The days after John’s final exam felt strangely weightless. Without the structure of school, he drifted aimlessly, caught between the relief of being free and the uncertainty of what to do with that freedom. University wouldn’t start until March, and though he hadn’t received his ENTER score yet, he already pictured himself at the University of Melbourne. 

Since Year 10, John had been drawn to the campus—not for academic reasons, but for its beauty and quiet allure. The sprawling South Lawn, the gothic charm of the Old Arts Building, and the shadowy carpark that had apparently featured in Mad Max all carried an air of mystery. 

He’d wandered the grounds so many times, imagining himself as a student instead of an outsider. Sometimes, his older brother Theo invited him along on curriculum days. John would sit in on lectures, feeling both exhilarated and out of place, or hide in the Union House library, marvelling at its collection of manga. 

Theo had even encouraged him to visit the Queer Community club on campus. “Go in,” Theo had urged. “They’d love you there.” But John couldn’t summon the courage. The thought of walking in and declaring himself gay felt daunting—what if they told him he didn’t belong? 

Theo was John’s fiercest supporter, especially after he came out earlier that year. Their parents had struggled to accept it at first. John’s father avoided the topic entirely, while his mother’s disapproval came in sighs and sharp remarks about shame and appearances. 

“You don’t need to tell people that,” she’d said once, as though it was something John could file away, hidden and forgotten. 

John often felt like he lived under a microscope, every solitary walk or outing scrutinized with veiled questions. “Are you meeting someone?” his mother would ask, her voice tight with suspicion. At first, he’d laughed it off, denying it. But over time, he began lying just to see her reaction, a strange, defiant game he didn’t fully understand. 

The strain grew until one evening, it spilled over. John couldn’t remember what triggered it, but he found himself crying in front of Theo, the words tumbling out like water from a broken dam. 

“No one in this family would love me if they really knew me,” he’d sobbed. 

Theo’s reaction was immediate and fierce. He defended John, calling out their parents’ behavior with a fire John had never seen before. Arguments followed, some loud and others simmering below the surface, until their parents began to retreat. Slowly, their resistance softened, though it was clear the road ahead would be long. 

John spent more time with Theo after that, tagging along with his brother’s friends and preparing for a world outside high school. It was Theo who encouraged him to embrace his newfound adulthood—18 years old, out of school, and ready for new experiences. 

Still, John’s dating life was barely a blip on the radar. Apart from a brief, awkward romance with a boy named Benny during a Year 11 summer school program, his love life was non-existent. Benny had kissed him once, only to disappear just as quickly as he’d arrived. 

John often wondered if he’d missed his chance at love—or if his shy, awkward years before Year 10 had set him too far back. Back then, he was the target of relentless bullying, a shadow that loomed over him even now. It wasn’t until a growth spurt and the end of his “ugly duckling” phase that people began noticing him. 

But their interest didn’t erase the self-doubt etched into him. Whenever someone smiled too warmly or paid him a compliment, he half-expected a cruel joke to follow. 

On a quiet Monday, John sat on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling as the itch in his chest grew. He needed to do something. Anything. 

On a whim, he messaged his friend ‘Dra: “I’m done with school. Finally.” 

‘Dra’s reply was instant: “Congratulations! Let’s go out this week and celebrate.” 

John’s heart leapt. For the first time, the possibility felt real. A wild night out—drinking, dancing, freedom. 

“Yes!” he typed back, barely containing his excitement. 

‘Dra sent the details: pre-drinks at 8:00, followed by QnA at 10:30. Bring your own drinks; mugs would be provided. 

Mugs? John frowned but shrugged it off. He was too excited to care about the specifics. Now he just had to convince his parents. 

John found his mother in the bedroom, sitting at the window seat, ironing shirts. The hiss of steam filled the air. 

“Mum,” he began, his voice cautious. 

She glanced up, her face drawn with exhaustion. “Mmmhmm?” 

“My friend asked me to go out with them on Thursday night,” John said. 

Her hands paused briefly, the iron hovering over a shirt. “Who is this friend? Where are you going?” 

“You know ‘Dra—the friend in the city. They want to take me to a club to celebrate finishing school.” 

“A club? On a Thursday?” Her tone was sharp, skeptical. “Your father has work the next day, and I’m not going to sleep. Do you think that’s fair on us?” 

It always came back to this—how his choices affected the family. Frustration flared in John’s chest. 

“I’m not going to Schoolies, Mum. This is my way of celebrating. I’ll be quiet coming back,” he said firmly. 

“What time will you be back? And what kind of club is this?” 

“I don’t know yet,” John admitted. “But we’re going out at 10:30.” 

Her eyes widened. “10:30? Jesus Christ!” She tugged at the shirt in her hands, as if wringing out her disapproval. 

“I can’t think about this right now,” she said finally. “I’ll talk to your father later.” 

John walked out, his chest tight with an all-too-familiar itch. Back in his room, he buried his face in a pillow, muffling a frustrated scream. He pressed his face down until the darkness bloomed with red spots. 

At dinner that night, Theo dominated the conversation, recounting stories from one of his tutorials. John seized the opportunity to bring up the club again. 

“Dad,” he said casually, “my friends invited me to a club to celebrate finishing school.” 

His father glanced up, amused. “Gonna have a few beers at the pub?” 

Before John could respond, his mother cut in. “It’s a club with those uni students he hangs out with. They’re going out at 11:00 on a Thursday.” 

His father chuckled. “That’s pretty late. Is that how they do it these days?” 

“It’s normal,” Theo chimed in. “Remember when I used to go to Goo? Same thing.” 

Their mother frowned. “Did he mention it’s a gay club?” 

The room fell silent. 

His father cleared his throat. “Can’t you just go somewhere normal?” 

John bristled. “You don’t even know gay people. How would you know what’s normal?” 

“I’ve worked with gay people before!” his father snapped. “The world hasn’t changed that much.” 

Theo set his fork down. “You know, I’ve been to a gay club. A friend of mine took me, and it was fine.” 

His mother’s eyes widened. “You went? But you’re not gay!” 

Theo shrugged. “You never ask where I go, so why do you grill John so much?” 

Silence fell over the table. Finally, their mother sighed. “Alright. If Theo says it’s fine, you can go. But be careful.” 

That night, John lay in bed, the excitement bubbling beneath his skin. For once, he felt a sense of calm—like the world might finally open its arms to him. 

The moonlight streamed through his blinds, casting soft patterns on the walls. Somewhere, a dog barked in the distance. John drifted to sleep, the promise of Thursday wrapping around him like a warm blanket. 

“Pens down, time is up. The English exam is now over,” Ms. Pomelo announced, her voice cutting through the tense silence that had hung in the room for hours. “Pens down, thank you!” 

John’s hand jerked open as if startled by her words, and his pen clattered onto the desk. He flexed his fingers, red and sore from three hours of relentless writing. His palm hovered over the pages filled with words he could barely recall. 

It wasn’t just the end of an exam. It was the end of high school. 

He looked around at his classmates, watching as they stirred slowly to life. Some exchanged glances, a silent chorus of relief, frustration, or disbelief. John rose from his seat, the plastic chair scraping awkwardly against the carpet. As he gathered his belongings, he caught Ms. Pomelo’s sharp eyes. 

“John, how do you feel?” she asked. 

“No surprises,” he replied. 

“Don’t be too confident,” she warned, her tone clipped but not unkind. “It means you probably missed something.” 

He nodded stiffly, unsure if her words were a challenge or a dig. Ms. Pomelo always had a knack for leaving him uneasy, as though resting too easily wasn’t allowed in her presence. 

The hallway outside the library was alive with chatter and the shuffle of footsteps. Students bemoaned their effort or cheered their freedom, their energy spilling out like steam from a pressure cooker. John threaded through the crowd without stopping, avoiding eye contact. 

The school gates loomed ahead. 

For years, John had dreamed of this moment—the day he’d take his final steps away from the classroom, free from its suffocating monotony. He imagined music swelling, his name etched in invisible fireworks. But now, as he crossed the threshold, there was no parade. The sky was overcast, the air cool. It was just another day. 

Each step felt strangely hollow. His brain understood the reality, but his heart clung to a fantasy where endings came with grandeur. The gap between those expectations and reality left a familiar ache, a sense of longing that often tugged at the corners of his life. He walked the familiar streets in silence, letting his mind wander. 

The walk home brought back fragments of the past, clear and vivid. In Year 7, he kept close behind his older brother and his friends, silent and unsure where he fit. By Year 10, the journey became something to endure, with jeers and the occasional piece of fruit thrown his way. By Year 11, the walks were filled with easy laughter shared with friends, the kind that made the school day feel lighter. Each memory came and went, simple but sharp, as familiar as the path under his feet.

He flinched as a bus rushed by, snapping him out of his thoughts. The past receded like a tide, leaving him firmly in the present. 

Before boarding the tram, he made a detour to Royal Chopsticks. The small suburban Chinese takeaway store had become a sanctuary of sorts, its familiar warmth and aroma a comfort after countless school days. 

The shopkeeper, a kind-eyed woman with an ever-present smile, handed him a dim sim without needing to ask. 

“Last day, huh?” she said, her tone gentle. 

“Yeah,” John replied, startled by her perceptiveness. 

“Good luck,” she said softly. 

He hesitated, her words lingering. “Thanks for everything. I’ll be back.” 

The woman smiled, though a faint sadness flickered in her expression. “It’s okay. Good luck,” she said again before turning back to her work. 

As he walked away, the dim sim felt heavier than usual in his hand. It might be his last. The thought unsettled him, though he couldn’t quite explain why. After today, it would no longer be a dim sim that carried him through the grind of school afternoons. It would just be food—ordinary and unmoored from the life he’d known. 

The tram ride home was uneventful, and soon he was unlocking the front door of his house. First the security door, then the heavier wooden one. Even this mundane ritual felt slightly surreal, as though he were walking through a life that wasn’t quite his anymore. 

“Mum?” he called as he stepped inside. 

“How’d you go, John?” came her voice, slightly muffled. She was in the bathroom—he could hear the hiss of hairspray and the clatter of items on the counter. 

“I think I went well. Finished everything and had time to read over my essays.” He moved toward the kitchen, thirst clawing at his throat. 

By the time he reached for his second glass of water, his mother appeared, her shoes clicking softly against the wooden floor. 

“Come here,” she said, hands on her hips. “Give me a kiss.” 

John set the glass down and leaned into the embrace. 

“You’ve done so well this year,” she said, her voice tender. “It’ll all pay off.” 

“I hope so.” 

His gaze drifted to the kitchen wall, the framed family photos blurring as his eyes lost focus. His mother pulled back, her expression already shifting. “I’m heading to Highpoint to pick up a few things. Want to come?” 

“Nah,” John replied. “I think I’ll stay here and clear out my room. It’s a mess after all the study.” 

She frowned. “Are you sure? Maybe we could sell some of those textbooks. Your father and I paid good money for them.” 

“They’re not worth selling,” he said. “They’re changing the curriculum next year anyway.” 

“Bloody crooks,” she muttered, grabbing her keys. “Alright, then. Call if you need anything.” 

John closed his bedroom door and took in the chaos before him. His desk was a shrine to his year-long war with VCE: piles of notes, battered textbooks, and a whiteboard scrawled with equations and timelines. 

His gaze wandered to the posters above his bed—mysteries solved by Kindaichi, the digital dystopia of *The Matrix*. The bookshelf across the room offered a mix of well-worn manga, DVDs, and framed photos. One object stood out: a delicate fan his father’s coworker had gifted him, its intricate design a reminder of Japan. 

John’s relationship with Japan was complicated. The language had been his nemesis through most of high school, a source of frustration and near-failure. Then, one day in Year 10, everything changed. 

That night, he had a dream. He was walking through a vibrant park, its ground carpeted with red and yellow leaves. Beside him, a boy spoke in a voice that felt both familiar and distant. 

“It’s up those stairs,” the boy said, pointing ahead. 

John replied in perfect Japanese, the fluency startling him even in the dream. 

The boy laughed. “It must always be hot in Australia!” 

John smiled, warmth blooming in his chest. They climbed the stairs together, their laughter carrying through the air. Then the light grew brighter, and brighter—until he woke up. 

The next day, he breezed through a listening comprehension test that would have stumped him a week before. His teacher, Takeguchi-sensei, was baffled. “John-san… how?” 

“I don’t know,” John had replied, and it was the truth. 

But the dream lingered. It felt like more than a dream, as though it belonged to a version of his life he hadn’t lived yet. 

John blinked, snapping back to his cluttered room. He opened the window, letting the fresh air sweep through, and set to work clearing out the remnants of his school years.