Amanda Sun: Shadow

I opened my sketchbook and clicked the end of my pen. I sketched the lines furiously, reaching with a gentle hand to tilt her chin for the portrait, to smooth the hair beside her ear.

I watched for inkblots, for the lines to drip the way they had in class. I watched for the warning signs that I should stop, but they didn’t come. Even the shadows were frightened to break the fragile moment.

It was nice, pretending to be normal. Later, when I’d tucked the sketch away, we walked to the department store on Miyuki Road and ate udon together, seeing who could shove the most noodles in their mouth without laughing. I choked on the spicy broth and gulped down my water as the waiters eyed me with suspicion.

But the darkness always waited, always lurked in the corners. It couldn’t stay like this forever. And when the time came, the claws would reach for me again, and I would be engulfed in darkness.

Katie

“Katie!” Diane shrieked, waving wildly at me. She was easy to spot on the other side of the crowds. It’s not that she was really overweight or anything, but she had, as Mom put it, a “healthy appetite.” With her build, height and pale skin among the bustling Japanese crowd, she was like a sad version of Where’s Waldo?

But once we’d hugged and I trailed her to the lower level of Narita airport, everything changed. She wasn’t awkward. She wasn’t the piece that didn’t fit, the difference that needed circling. She spoke fluently to everyone, placing a ticket in my hand for the Narita Express train—the NEX—and standing with the crowd, watching the kanji fly by on the digital board to tell us which platform and which car to line up for.

I was the one who didn’t fit, not her. I stared at her, awed.

She smiled. “You’ll pick it up quickly, too,” she said as we took our seats on the train.

I tilted my head back against the fuzzy headrest.

“Are you kidding?” I said. “I studied for four months and I could barely nod my way through customs.”

“Just give it four or five months here, and you’ll speak like a pro,” Diane said. “It’s completely different when you’re immersed in the language.”

“Okay,” I said, halfway between not believing and not caring. I was too exhausted from the jet lag to worry about it much. The train tunneled out of the darkness and to the outside, the February trees bare and the grass brown as mud.

“Just forget English,” Diane said, folding her hands in front of her. “Don’t even think of it as an option. Don’t translate things in your head—just go with what sounds right. If you translate, you’re not really thinking in Japanese, right?”

“I guess.”

Diane smiled. “Never mind. Rest a bit. We still have to take the bullet train after this.”

I peered out the window at the tracks, nestled between two steep hillsides so that I could see nothing of Japan but the slopes of winter forest. The train swayed from side to side gently, and a stream of steady Japanese echoed in the train car, announcements telling us something or other about the train and the destinations. The tracks clacked underneath us in a steady rhythm— click-clack , click-clack . Then another tunnel and out again, and the hills pulled away briefly.

I stared at the low buildings. They looked strange, somehow, deep reds and browns, with black-tiled roofs and gray brick walls.

“This isn’t exactly how I pictured Tokyo,” I said.

“Oh? What did you expect?” Diane peered out the window to look with me.

The hills blotted out the buildings again.

“I guess—skyscrapers? Pagodas? Millions of people?” But the glimpses of road that sped past were empty.

“Well, we’re not really in Tokyo for one thing. It’ll be an hour before we get there.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling ridiculous. Wasn’t Narita Airport in Tokyo? Just how big was a sprawling city of 13 million people? I couldn’t picture it.

I closed my eyes, the jet lag hitting me as the train rocked me from side to side. When I opened them again, Diane was gently prodding my arm as she grabbed the handle of my suitcase.

“We need to transfer to the Shinkansen,” she said. “We’re in Tokyo Station now.”

“Wow,” I said. “I slept that long?”

“You’re like a pro already,” she said. “Lots of people sleep on the trains here.”

We left the doors of the NEX and stepped onto the platform. The air smelled musty like train stations do, and I followed Diane quickly through the thick crowds. A tune chimed from the speakers followed by a steady stream of polite Japanese—some sort of train announcement, I guessed.

Everywhere there were men in business suits and teens in school uniforms. All the boys in blazers and dress pants, the girls in pleated skirts.

That’s going to be me , I thought. I’m going to wear one of those.

One student passed me, a white mask over her mouth and hooked over her ears like she was a hospital patient. Weird. We kept walking, and then a businessman passed by with one on.

“What’s up with the masks?” I said.

“Huh?” Diane said. It wasn’t even foreign to her anymore. “Oh, those? It’s a courtesy because they have a cold. They don’t want to spread the germs, you know?”

“Seriously?” I guess it was a nice gesture, but it was strange to see them walking around like they were fresh from an operating room or something.

Another happy tune chimed as I tripped over a thick strip of yellow plastic bumps.

“So what about all the songs?” I said. “And the bumps?”

Diane smiled. “The chimes make the announcements more pleasant, right?” she said. “And the bumps are to help the blind get around. You’ll get the hang of it, Katie. It’s a lot all at once. Are you hungry?” She stopped at a kiosk, breaking into rapid Japanese that I couldn’t follow. If I couldn’t even understand Diane, I was definitely doomed.

I tried to listen to the announcements as I waited for her, concentrating to hear any words I knew. Okay, got a particle. Got a past tense marker. But nothing concrete. I couldn’t grasp a single full sentence. They could be announcing Godzilla was about to smash the station into pieces and I’d be the only one who hung around and got crushed.

I was completely helpless, like some kind of little kid. I hated the feeling.

Diane came over a minute later and pressed a green triangular thing wrapped in plastic into my palm.

I turned it over, staring at the kanji on the label. “Um,” I said. “Thanks?”

“ Onigiri ,” she said patiently. “Rice ball wrapped in seaweed. Well, rice triangle I guess. It’s got salmon inside.”

I clung to Diane’s side as she led us through the noisy station. I felt like the stupidest person in the world. Who was I kidding to think I could live in Japan? It felt like I’d dropped off the face of the earth. Was this even the same planet?

I unwrapped the onigiri , taking a cautious bite. The seaweed crinkled like paper and the cold rice stuck to my teeth. Not awful, but strange. Everything was strange.

The Shinkansen was way worse than the NEX. The train sped along at something like a million miles per hour, which is the speed that makes your ears pop and sting like they’re going to fall off.

“Thank god we’re only going an hour out of Tokyo,” I said, and Diane frowned a little.

“Do you want me to get you a drink from the trolley when it comes past? It might help.”

I shook my head, remembering the bitter taste of the green bean tea on the plane. “I’m okay.”

She shrugged and reached into her purse, unwrapping a candy for me.