Dirty, Dirty Liars [Mature]

[3] 三

Tokyo moved fast while life moved slow. It was like being stuck in that dream where you're running as hard as you can, but never get closer to what you're chasing. I had been there over a month, and it still felt like I was brand new. The weeks flew by like days while I fought to keep up, and yet, it felt like no time had passed because nothing had changed. Every shift at work was hell, I went home tired, alone, making eyes with Ryuzo while he was busy working. All I could do was stare at what I wanted, always stuck in the same place, wondering when I was going to wake up. 

Japan was so different from the States. The culture was more conservative and more perverse than I was used to, and it was confusing. Here, America seemed louder than when I was there. You could spot an American tourist from a mile away, even if you couldn't see them. Japan was quiet and private in public, leaving so much room for dirty secrets to hide.

As horrible as work seemed for me, the head nurse got reprimanded by Toriyami-senpai even more than me. No matter how much the doctor yelled at her, she stood quietly and took it. One day, I caught them in the basement off the hallway to the morgue, her leg draped over his arm, her hands pulling him closer while he humped away. She stood and took it there, too, but not as quiet.

Embarrassing as it was, I was jealous. I wanted to feel normal, to feel like I did before the rumors and headlines, to have a life, not be stuck in a constant sprint to nowhere. But I was trapped in the dream, chasing after nothing, drowning a sea of 13 million people used to running.

My late-night neighbor still haunted my dreams. Only my dreams. Between my long shifts and his unpredictable ones, I couldn't seem to catch him alone again. There were no more words, no more friendly drink invitations or 3 AM kisses. Just longing looks and unrequited desires.

Kissing him, having him touch me . . . My dreams were more vivid than before, and it made it impossible to sleep under the provocative red glow through my window.

Regardless of how physically attracted I was to him, I couldn't get over what he said. Maybe it was my stupid, American idealism, but I wanted his words to be true. I wanted things to get better and to fall in love with Japan, but I was still running, never getting closer.

Until everything fell right into my lap.

. . .

I woke up to my alarm blaring. My pillow pressed over my ear made it almost bearable to hear, but the number on my clock was the opposite. "Shit!"

Late. In Japan. I heard many places in the East were particular about punctuality compared to America and parts of the West adopted, but it wouldn't have mattered. My shift started in thirty minutes and I was a ten minute run and twenty minutes train ride away. I didn't need another reason to get reprimanded at work.

I jumped into my scrubs from the day before, planning to change once I had a breather at work — if I had a breather at work — and thanked the universe for making me wash and braid my hair the night before. My two corn rows were symmetrical if you didn't look too hard, and the loose ends had mostly dried through the night. I pulled it back into a ponytail and called it done.

A quick brush of my teeth and a swift grab of my bag, shoes, and coat, I ran out of my apartment, onto the sidewalk, and didn't plan to stop running until the train.

"Mina!"

I sputtered to a stop when I heard his voice. Only his could make my world pause. "Ryuzo."

His smile was full and humorous while he pulled on leather gloves. "Where are you off to so fast?"