Center gate, Tobu Tojo Line, Ikebukuro Station, Toshima Ward, Tokyo
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“I want to go home,” the boy mumbled.
The statement was far too simple to encapsulate the myriad conflicting emotions he felt, but there was no other way to express his overall sentiment that directly.
Stretching out before his eyes were people. People, people, people. And more people. Basically people. His vision was overflowing with people as far as he could see. It was just past six in the evening, the time when many people started commuting home from work and school. It wasn’t quite at peak levels yet, but the crowds were easily dense enough to be considered swarms.
He was so overwhelmed by the presence of people crammed into that vast underground space that the boy momentarily lost sight of his purpose for being there.
A salaryman bumped him with a shoulder. He started to apologize on instinct, but the man was gone, barely even conscious of what had happened. The boy bowed his head and mumbled an apology to no one and made his way over to one of the pillars a distance away from the gate.
The boy, Mikado Ryuugamine, felt a curious fluttering deep in his gut and decided that it came from anxiety. Despite his imposing name, there was weak-willed worry plain as day on his face.
It was his first-ever trip to Ikebukuro on the invitation of an old friend. To be more precise, it was his first trip to Tokyo at all—not just Ikebukuro—in his sixteen years of life.
He’d never been outside of the town where he grew up, and he’d stayed home for his class field trips in both elementary and middle school. He knew it was no way to go through life—and then he got accepted at a private high school in the Toshima Ward of Tokyo. It was a brand-new school built just a few years ago and was only a bit above average in school rankings, but it boasted one of the nicest campuses in the city. He had the option of going to school locally, of course, but it was his dream to live in the big city and an invitation from a childhood friend who moved away years ago that convinced him to make the leap.
This friend might have transferred away during elementary school, but Mikado had the Internet already at that age, and they chatted online nearly every day once in middle school. They hadn’t seen each other in person during that time, but they weren’t distant in any real sense.
Mikado’s parents weren’t used to the Internet, and the invitation of someone their son hadn’t seen since elementary school was not a satisfactory reason to send him off to Tokyo. They didn’t mention this, but they probably would have preferred to send him to a cheaper local public school. They argued, but Mikado convinced them by saying he’d raise his living funds outside of tuition by working jobs, and at last he was allowed to start a new chapter of his life in a new place.
“I think I’ve made a terrible mistake…”
He was feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of people that would never bother to acknowledge his existence. He knew this was an illusion he himself was creating, but it was hard not to wonder if he would ever get used to this sensation.
After about the fifth sigh, he heard a familiar voice.
“Yo, Mikado!”
“?!”
He glanced up with a start to see a young man with his hair dyed brown. There was still a youthful softness to his face, which clashed somewhat with his hair and pierced ears.
Mikado was afraid he’d already been singled out for a shakedown or some kind of scam, then belatedly realized the person had called him by name. He glanced closer at the stranger and began to recognize the features of an old friend.
“Wait, um…Kida?”
“You have to ask? Okay, multiple choice: three answers. Am I, one, Masaomi Kida, two, Masaomi Kida, or, three, Masaomi Kida?”
For the first time since reaching Ikebukuro, Mikado smiled.
“Wow, Kida! Is that really you?”
“Thanks, just ignore the joke I spent three years crafting… Anyway, good to see you, man!”
“We were talking in chat just yesterday. Sorry, you look so different, I couldn’t be sure it was you. I wasn’t expecting your hair to be dyed! Also, that joke sucks.”
Though they talked nearly every day online, there was no way for him to know how his friend’s face had changed over the years. His voice was lower now, so it was little wonder he failed to recognize it at first.
Masaomi Kida smiled shyly and objected, “Well, it’s been four years. And it’s not that I’ve changed too much; you haven’t changed enough. You look exactly the same as you did in elementary school…and don’t slam my jokes.” He smacked the top of Mikado’s considerably more-youthful head a few times.
“Ack, knock it off. As if you’ve ever been shy about telling bad jokes in chat…”
Mikado swatted away his hand but wasn’t really upset. First in school and later in the chat room, Masaomi had always been the one pulling Mikado along, and Mikado had never had a problem with that arrangement.
With their greeting out of the way, Masaomi started off through the crowd.
“Shall we take this outside, then? Go west, young man! Psych—we’re heading for the Seibu exit, not the west exit. The trickster guide strikes again.”
“Oh, I see. So what’s the difference between the west exit and the Seibu exit?”
“…That joke fell flat.”
Just from his short stroll with Masaomi, Mikado’s fear of the crowd was already easing. Simply walking with another person who knew the town, an old familiar friend, made the sights of the big city vastly different in Mikado’s eyes.
“See, outside of Ikebukuro Station, the Tobu (East Tokyo) Department Store is at the west exit, and the Seibu (West Tokyo) Department Store is at the east exit… Ugh, is there anything sadder than having to explain a failed joke? What does that make me?”
“Probably an idiot.”
“…You’ve got a really sharp tongue, man,” Masaomi grunted, grimacing as though he’d just chewed on a caterpillar. He sighed in resignation and muttered, “Whatever. Out of respect for myself, I will overlook that one. So, anything you wanna see in particular?”
“Well, like I mentioned in chat, I’d like to see Sunshine…”
“Right now? I mean…I’m fine with that, but you’ll have a better time with a girlfriend.”