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start. What?”
    Uncle Kentaro is not moving. He’s stopped blinking. “What trouble have you got yourself into now?” He fumbles around in his pockets. He brings out a hand cloth, wipes it around his face and hands and puts it away.
    “No.”
    “No? What do you mean, Uncle Kentaro?”
    “I mean no. No, you don’t start anything. You don’t get involved. It’s not too late to move in with me again. I can help you get back on your feet. We can work on your Japanese, and get you speaking fluently, the way you used to. I can teach you my guaranteed winning kendo move and you can carry on with your life, without these dreams of going to England.”
    “But what about Steve?”
    Uncle Kentaro sighs a heavy sigh. “What about Steve? He either got drunk and fell in front of a train. End of story. Or the cops got the wrong man and in fact he faked it so he could run away with another girl. Who knows why? Either way, you are better off without him. Stop this fantasy of moving to London and face reality.”
    If this was a film, Uncle Kentaro would hug me and tell me everything would be all right, just believe in yourself and anything is…
    “Have you finished feeling sorry for yourself? You’ve had it tougher than most, but you were put on this Earth to make an effort.”
    “My mother…”
    “Used to say that. I know. But she’s dead now. You are not. That’s the way it is and the way it has to be. Steve may or may not be dead. You should be thankful that you are very much alive. And for another thing,   you’re a lucky girl. But you can’t be forever. I don’t know what the gods were thinking when they made you, but you have a nose for trouble, and that will get you killed. Never assume anything because…”
    “I know that one from my journalism classes because it makes an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me’ but…”
    “No. Jesus, what do they teach you kids in school now? ‘Because they will kill you if you make a mistake’ is the correct answer. Look, you don’t even have to think about it. Either Steve was unlucky, or he was no good, or he was wrapped up in something no good. It doesn’t matter. Walk away while you can. You’ve done nothing wrong and you are not involved, so walk away. Who knows who is behind this? Maybe North Koreans. Maybe cops. Maybe self-destructive artists who can’t keep it together on the platform of life. Either way the bastards have it in for you. Make a mistake and they’ll disappear you. It’s time you stopped living in a fantasy world and take help when it’s offered. Come home with me. Emi’s in America with Aunt Tanaka, you could take her room and I’ll get you back on track. Come home with me today and this nightmare is over, and you’re free to get on with life in Japan, your home.”

CHAPTER SIX

    I spend the rest of the afternoon in the park trying to convince Uncle Kentaro that he’s wrong and I’m not pursuing a fantasy. By 5pm it’s starting to get dark. But it’s clear that he’ll only take me back if I give up on Steve. I don’t understand his insistence, and he can’t understand why I can’t give up on Steve. Finally, Uncle Kentaro leaves. I choose a bench where Steve and I used to sit. There’s a shade tree and two girls are playing acoustic guitars in the dusk. One of them is singing sweetly and I listen for a while until I realise it’s a Carpenters song and I feel a little sick. Steve doesn’t show up and I have to decide what I’m going to do.  
    I empty out my pockets to look at my life’s possessions. I have a convenience store receipt for one can of beer and a natto rice ball. I have ¥4,231. If I’m careful, it’s enough to buy rice balls to keep me alive for days. But I don’t think it’s enough for a hotel room. It’s not nearly enough to live past a few days. I don’t speak Japanese. I don’t have anyone to turn to. I don’t have a place to stay. I don’t have anywhere to go. Just a suitcase in a Shibuya lobby and