Tokyo Hearts: A Japanese Love Story (14 page)

It was only about two hundred metres from the station when Takashi suddenly realised that the ground was covered in amber and golden caramel leaves. It was like someone had come down in the middle of the night and used the rain to glue a mosaic leaf formation all over the paths for the enjoyment of the pedestrians. He smiled; knowing that autumn had well and truly arrived and those long, humid nights were finished for yet another year. He now walked with more purpose in his step, and he looked forward to the months ahead.

Takashi boarded the train on the Tokkaido line to get to Shinagawa and from there, took the Yamanote line to Shibuya. Exiting the train, he had to weave through a swarm of people to reach the main exit. Masaya was waiting next to the bronze Hachiko dog statue, dressed in a pair of Levi’s and a blue and white long-sleeved top.

‘Hey, I’ve been here for fifteen minutes. Did you miss your train?’ he teased Takashi.

‘I was daydreaming on the way to the station,’ Takashi replied.

He poked Takashi in the arm. ‘Daydreaming about Haruka?’ he asked.

‘No,’ Takashi said, blushing.

‘Aah,’ screamed Masaya, laughing at Takashi’s embarrassment. ‘C’mon, let’s go. I want to buy some house slippers from Loft.’

The central scramble crossing was ahead of them and when the lights turned green, they joined the hundreds of people crossing diagonally in eight directions to reach the shops and the department stores on the opposite side.

As usual, Shibuya was a beehive of twenty-something adults and young and hip adolescents. The area breathed a spirit of enthusiasm and youth. Neon signs beamed down on hundreds of shoppers weaving like a colony of ants – but a very fashionable colony. If you were perched at the tops of the buildings, you’d look down to see a wave of beings out to impress. Long hair down to the waist, shaved heads showing off intricate tattoos; fashionable hats and hairpieces and all other styles of headwear adorned the thousands of fashionistas out to impress each other.

Hundreds of shopping bags were held by their bearers as symbols of style and sophistication. A proportion of them were standing alone on corners waiting for friends, their eyes flicking over passers-by with approval or disapproval. Groups of three of four girls could be seen here and there expertly navigating their way through the crowds as one as they were nudged through this sea of consumerism. Slightly older singletons headed determinedly towards their chosen department store or boutique, their set and confident expressions showing others they were experts in the art of shopping and knew the area better than most.

Takashi and Masaya passed the HMV music shop to reach Loft, one of their favourite interior design and gift complexes. They liked to walk through each of its seven floors, and although he didn’t often buy anything, Takashi always liked to see what he’d purchase if he had more money. He liked to imagine the type of living space he’d create and how great it would look filled with bits and pieces he could buy at Loft and the other trendy stores.

They entered the store and stopped at the sunglasses counter on the first floor.

‘Go on, try these,’ Masaya said, holding up a pair of tortoiseshell glasses for Takashi to try on.

Takashi checked the price before putting them on with some hesitation and peered into the mirror on the counter.

‘I’m not sure about these Masaya,’ Takashi said. ‘They’re very expensive.’

Masaya came over and stood facing Takashi, turning his head from one side to the other to inspect him.

‘They look terrific on you,’ he said.

Takashi put the glasses back onto the rack and left Masaya to try on several other pairs. A couple of minutes later bored with that, he wandered over to the wristwatch section. He was enjoying this leisurely afternoon and Masaya seemed to be having fun too.

Masaya came over and pointed towards the escalator. ‘We have to go up to level five. Don’t you remember that I wanted to get some house slippers?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Takashi replied.

Masaya waved the floor guide at him. ‘Did you know that Momo-chan is going to move in with me soon?’ he asked Takashi when they reached the escalator.

Takashi gave him a friendly punch. ‘Does that mean that you’re going to get married?’ he asked.

‘No way! Me – married? I don’t think so. No, she can keep the place clean,’ said Masaya, laughing cheekily.

‘I thought she had her own apartment.’

‘Yes, she did,’ said Masaya. ‘She started renting a place when she began working for a diamond company in Shinjuku. She had to keep working there to pay the rent, but her boss was really shady and he was giving her a hard time. I went to meet her after work a couple of weeks ago and after meeting her boss, I told her to quit and move in with me,’ explained Masaya.

‘The poor girl,’ said Takashi.

‘I know. That job was becoming really stressful for her, but she’ll be alright now,’ said Masaya.

‘Thanks to you, Masaya,’ Takashi said.

‘Well, people say I’m a great guy,’ said Masaya. He burst into laughter, turning his back on Takashi just before they reached the fifth floor. Five seconds later, they approached the racks of slippers they’d been looking for. Masaya picked up a tan pair and then reached for another pair in the same colour and style, but in a smaller size.

‘I’ll take these. ¥1,000 each! Not a bad price
,’
he said turning the two pairs over in his hands to feel their texture. ‘Made in France! Cool!’

‘Do you need anything else?’ Takashi asked.

‘Let’s go and look at the clothes in Seibu department store next door.’

‘No problem,’ Takashi said with a smile.

They crossed the road and entered the Seibu store.

‘Do you remember what floor the men’s wear is on?’ asked Masaya, pointing to the upper floors.

‘Fourth floor,’ Takashi replied firmly.

They reached the fourth floor and checked out the labels that were on display: Giorgio Armani, Comme des Garçons Edited, Yohji Yamamoto, Joseph Homme, Porsche Design, Ralph Lauren Black Label and many others. They wandered through these boutiques quite quickly, trying not to attract too much attention from the shop assistants.

Having checked out the fashions upstairs, they headed back to the escalator. A tall man in a black tuxedo stood politely to the side of the down escalator, offering a glass of Moët Champagne to shoppers.

Masaya and Takashi looked at each other and silently agreed to take a glass.

‘There we are,’ the gentleman in black said, handing both of them a quarter filled glass. ‘Are you looking for a particular designer?’ he asked.

The man in black did speak very beautifully.

‘Ah. Um. Ah,’ Takashi stuttered.

‘We’re here to view the latest Armani collection for the season,’ said Masaya confidently, in a very posh voice.

‘Very good,’ replied the gentleman in black.

Masaya and Takashi quickly quaffed the rest of the Champagne and rushed down the escalators to the exit. Outside, they bent over backwards with laughter.

Takashi stood stiffly upright and mimicked Masaya with an over-affected posh voice. ‘We’re here to view the Armani collection!’

‘Shut up,’ said Masaya. ‘Ah, um, ee, um!’ he mimicked him. ‘Come on, Takashi, let’s go to Daikanyama.’

‘Okay,’ Takashi agreed. ‘But let’s get something to eat first. It’s cheaper to eat in Shibuya.’

‘Sure,’ said Masaya.

They ended up walking through a few more shops, all packed tightly together in this pulsating shopping district, before finding somewhere to eat.

Many of the shop windows were cleverly designed to lure customers through their doors. Takashi tried not to become a victim to many of these tempting invitations. Having been here so many times before, he rarely parted with a lot of money, strongly aware that he had to live on a tight budget while he was at university.
When I start working in marketing
, he kept telling himself,
I shall eventually have enough money to buy whatever my heart desires
.

It had been three hours since Takashi had left his apartment. His feet were tired and his stomach was groaning. They finally found a cheap little vendor where, for a few hundred yen, they were able to buy chicken and rice dishes. They had to stand and eat against a counter. This place was cramped between a department store and a small music shop and although it was a small eatery, it was very popular. They stood there surrounded by couples and young men who were shopping solo. The food and the customers were churned out quickly, and it wasn’t long before they were finished. Feeling a lot better, they went on their way again.

They decided to visit the Kinokuniya bookshop opposite the station before making their way to Daikanyama. They moved through the crowded store like a tight school of fish, shoulder to shoulder with dozens of other strangers, each of them searching for their chosen novel or magazine. When they reached the section on comic books, it was too crowded for Takashi to steal a good look at the latest choices. They left after only a few minutes, excusing themselves over and over again as they pushed their way through the crowds and back down the escalator. Finally, they reached the ground floor and from there they made their way to the train station.

Takashi always enjoyed visiting Daikanyama after window-shopping in Shibuya. There was a great deal less hustle and bustle in this town. It was only the affluent that could afford to live in this area, and there was a possibility of running into arrogant shoppers and sales assistants, but Takashi really found it all very sophisticated.

After taking the T
ky
T
yoko line from Shibuya, they arrived in Daikanyama. They wandered through the streets leading from the station, which were more like lanes or winding paths compared to the noisy and bustling stretches of bitumen that ran through Shibuya. They stopped to admire a red Ferrari parked on the side of the road. You could see the whole engine under its transparent cover. Takashi thought that it really would have been so cool to be able to walk up to it and claim this car as their own, put the key in the door, sit in the red leather bucket seats and wrap their fingers around the stitched leather steering wheel with its yellow Ferrari emblem. The owner of this car certainly wasn’t a university student with a limited income. He was probably a music producer or an owner of one of the boutiques or restaurants nearby, Takashi thought to himself.

The streets were lined here and there with the occasional stylish boutique, some of which they popped into to take a look at the latest clothes. There were also classy cafés and society restaurants on every corner. Takashi sometimes made plans before their visit to work up the courage to try on the markedly expensive clothes, hoping to be attended by a gorgeous-looking sales assistant, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Their friend Kenji would’ve been able to do it with ease, while at the same time laughing his way through it. At the end of it all, he would have no trouble completely convincing the ladies in the shop that he would be back later to pick the clothes up. He’d probably get a date out of it too, somehow.

Feeling a little tired now after wandering through these exclusive shops, looking but of course not trying on the clothes, they settled on getting a coffee from one of the cafés near the train station. They were hoping to sit in their courtyard for a while and rest a little before heading back home.