accosted me as they tried to recruit me for I don’t even know what; I was too scared to go into shops that weren’t convenience stores; I was shocked to see a grade-schooler in a school uniform transferring trains all alone. And every time I remembered how overwhelmed I was, I wanted to cry. I had a vague idea that Shinjuku was the center of Tokyo, so that was where I went to look for a job. When I finally got there, a guerilla rainstorm left me drenched. I worked up the courage to go into a manga café because I wanted to take a shower, but the clerk tsked at me and told me not to get the floor wet. Still, I decided to live out of that café to start with. I tried searching for part-time jobs on a PC in a cubicle that reeked of something rotting, but there weren’t any help wanted ads that said “No ID required.” Most of the answers on my Yahoo! post—my last resort—were things like “This is an insult to jobs” and “I think we have a runaway lol lol lol lol” and “That’s a violation of the Labor Standards Act. Die.” Among the jeers, I did find some actual information: “You don’t need ID to work as an errand boy in a sex shop.” So I desperately hunted up several of those and scheduled interviews, but when I actually went in, a relatively young but rough-looking guy just yelled at me—“Like hell! Why would we hire anybody without ID?! Whaddaya think we are around here, punk?”—and I ran back to the café, almost in tears. Actually, I was so scared that I did cry a little. And before I knew it, five days had gone by. This isn’t gonna work. I can’t get by like this. In my cramped cubicle at the manga café, I checked the notebook I was using as an account book. The cost to stay overnight at this place was two thousand yen a day, and what with travel and food expenses, I’d already used up more than twenty thousand since leaving the island. A week ago, my running-away fund of fifty thousand yen had seemed almost infinite to me; now I was furious with my past self for being so shortsighted. “Okay, only one way to handle this!” I said aloud, flipping the notebook shut. My back was against the wall. I began picking up my scattered belongings from around the cubicle and shoving them into my backpack. I was moving out of this manga café; I had to save money. Until I found part- time work, I wouldn’t spend the night indoors. It was summer, and sleeping outside for two or three nights should be doable. I hurried out of the café before my resolve weakened. Behind me, the TV on the café’s wall Page 13 Goldenagato | mp4directs.com