I feel a cold drop of sweat roll its way down the back of my neck; Sun’s rays are so intense that I am forced to squint and raise my arm against him. It’s already hard enough to walk through the maze of Tokyo, but today is especially difficult. The sidewalks are packed to the brim with people looking to enjoy their weekend. Personally, I don’t really understand the appeal of roasting out in the sun. But, to each be their own, I guess. 

I am only out here for once specific reason: a cute boy.

Well, not exactly, but it’s fun to think about it like that; as I’ve never been invited to do something by a boy before.

It's been two days since my fateful ‘elevator encounter’ with Haru; when we agreed to meet up at a place called ‘Westborough’ to figure out what we’re going to do for the latest illustrations of “Dancing in the Void”. I still can’t believe that we’re going to be working together!

I can’t help to let out a beaming smile at the thought.

Who would have known that I’d be meeting with talented (and handsome) illustrators to work on my books? To be fair, I did have an illustrator before this, but I never actually ended up getting to meet her. I always thought I liked the idea of absolute minimal encounters in my ‘workplace’, but actually meeting with people and talking about ideas, as Kiyoko and I did a few days ago, is kinda fun.

I hold my map out in front of me, tracing my finger along the street from my apartment to where I am now. I printed this out for directions last night and made sure that I followed it to a tee. I would actually say that I am quite proud of myself! While yes, I made a few wrong turns here and there, but I made sure to fully compensate for that by leaving a whole half-an-hour early. On top of that, I decided to dress up by wearing my checkered black and white skirt, and tied my hair into, what I would say, is the world record holder for the perfect ponytail.

I glance down at my map as I slide between the current of pedestrians like a snake, then stopping right where the map says I should be.

Standing in the center of the congested sidewalk, I turn to where this ‘Westburough’ place should be; but am met with a square of empty land between two clothing stores with a sign that reads “Under Construction. Do Not Enter”. I tilt my head.

Could it be that Haru was mistaken? I look down to my feet and tap the tips of my shoes together.

Or, could this be his way of saying I am the one who needs reconstruction? I feel Vaughn spring up out of my perfect ponytail.

I mean… he wouldn’t be wrong to feel that way, as it is obvious to him that I am an irresponsible mess. His first impression of me was having to return my own wallet that I had lost, then in the elevator; being spotted with heaps of laundry that I was just too lazy to do, and even seeing me jump and fall like an idiot while we waited to see Fuji. Maybe he feels like he is pressured to work with me… he’s being paid to do it, after all, it’s not like he chose to.

I continue to look down at to the ground, hearing the conversations of pedestrians as they pass me by.

“Yuriko!!!!”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

My thoughts are unexpectedly interrupted. I jerk upright and quickly turn to the voice that called my name. Could it be Haru? I take off my glasses and rub them against my skirt. Upon putting them back on, I notice that the sea of pedestrians on the sidewalk is being… split? Just about fifty meters away, the blob of people congesting the sidewalk is peeling away to the sides, against the walls of buildings, and even spilling onto the road. They are making way for something. I start to shake; what monstrous entity could disperse the chaos of Tokyo during lunch hour?

Then, before my very eyes, I see a man sprinting towards me, dashing through the crowd with his hands vertically behind his back like a ninja. He wears an orange jumpsuit with a silver headband that's ribbons wave behind as he goes. I stand shocked, unknowing as to what my next move should be. Could this be the man that called my name? Do I step aside? No, there is no point. Even if I did, I would prove to be too slow for this blistering speed.

I clench my fists. All I can do now is prepare for impact.

I raise my trembling arms, shielding myself from the zooming man. Just as I do, he skids to a stop right in front of me with a dramatic slide, taking several deep breaths. I peek up at him from between my arms. The fast man is… Kotaro?

“Do you have any idea…” he starts, taking another series of deep breaths, then continues, “how fast I really am?” he asks, simultaneously applying one of his signature poses. Before I can say anything, he answers himself. “I’m fast as heck, Yuriko. Anyways, what do you think?” He leans up against the street lamp pole, facing me across the sidewalk as he poses his question. People are now staring at us as they pass by, presumably attracted by Kotaro’s speed. I decide to completely ignore Kotaro’s question and respond with my own.

“Kotaro? Was that you who shouted my name?” I furrow my eyebrows as I inquire about this odd turn of events. Never thought I’d fear of being run over by a shounen author phenom.

“Yup, I saw you standing over here, and thought you would be a good witness for my test.”

“Test? A test for what?”

“I’m trying to submit an adventure story to Saigo Press that revolves around a town of Gnomes that has a hierarchy; established by determining each of the Gnome’s individual speeds,” he explains, making a walking motion with his two fingers. “The main character, Keem, has access to extreme speed due to his excellent sprinting form. I tried to explain this to Fuji at his office, but he straight up denied me and told me it was stupid, and that gnomes shouldn’t be that fast. So, naturally, I then proposed that if I could prove that Keem’s sprinting form makes him fast, he should accept the story.”

“And? What was his answer?”

“A resounding no.” he shrugs with discontent, “but, I’m going to make sure that I prove him wrong.” Kotaro then points to this little camera he has tapped to his bandana, letting out a smug grin. “This should be tracking my speed, and tonight I’ll email the results to him for a ‘take this’ moment. What do you think?”

It takes all my power to prevent laughing out loud. Is this confidence on Kotaro’s end? A complete lack of social awareness? I just conclude it to be the ladder and encourage him, as I bet this is just an excuse for him to run around town like one of his shounen anime characters.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you might be the fastest man alive!” I cheer, giggling as I speak.

“Yeah? Well, I’ve got an extra jumpsuit if you want it!” offers Kotaro with a chuckle. I pick up on, what I hope to be, a joke and respectfully pass up on the generous offer.

“Well, I’ll be off then, gotta get back on the hunt for those results,” says Kotaro, gesturing back up at the camera taped to his head. I laugh and say my goodbye, however just before he goes off on his way, I remember to ask him,

“Oh, hey, do you have any idea where Westburough might be? I was going to be meeting with somebody there, but can’t seem to find the building.”

“Building?” questions Kotaro, raising a brow at me. “You mean Westburough park?” he asks, pointing directly across the street to a sign that reads “Westburough Park”.

“O-oh… thank you.” For future reference, I probably shouldn’t assume that writers only meet up at coffee shops.