Kabukichou Complex

2.

Another day, same story.

In the district that never slept, the everlasting bustle of new faces and old friends ironically meant that nothing ever changed. 

The towering buildings made quite a scene through the windows as the train approached, running on the infamous Yamanote line which circled Tokyo's hotspots. With the last rays of dying sunlight blending in with the lights that just turned on, the city was a colorful mess.

Shinjuku station. A formidable complex known to devour any newcomer in its massiveness, the maze of exits opening up to very different places. Salarymen hurried in all directions, narrowly missing each other. Teenagers lingered by walls and pillars, glancing around them every once in a while before turning back to their mobile phones and texting furiously. Couples walked with linked arms, pointing upwards and gaping the sheer vastness.

Even at the East exit of the station, far from Kabukicho itself, a catch or two could be spotted, waiting for a lone girl to pass by and perhaps snatch the opportunity introduce them to whatever club they served. Catch were usually the new or low ranking hosts, easily identified by the unique hair colors and flashy clothing punctuated with silver jewelry. 

The touts appeared later as I found my way towards Yasukuni-dori,  an avenue connecting the station to Kabukicho itself. The neon signs upon neon signs, lining every segment of each building and stacking up a few stories high, was the stuff out of highschoolers' dreams. Convenient stories, restaurants and gaming centers alike, it was hard to tell. Such touts would filter the crowd for unsuspecting tourists - those who looked kind of lost and tried to hide their intentions and those who put full trust in the travel guides that advertised Tokyo's safety - and offer promises of meeting girls, which usually resulted only in disappointment and crippling debt.

The traffic lights changed from red to green, and the sea of people spilled across the wide crossing. A brilliant red arch marked Kabukicho Ichiban-gai, its image a poster child for any online search regarding the district. 

I remember the first time I visited the area in my last year of highschool, lost in the network of billboards and neon lights and excited as any child entering 'adulthood' for the first time. Even now some form of that magic remained.

"Ah - Yuuki!" My stylist greeted me as I entered the establishment, the jingle of bells hung on the glass door's handle announcing it loud and clear. She showed off her snake bites as she smiled, escorting me towards the black stool before the mirror. "How are you doing?"

"Same as always." I took a seat on the chair, staring straight ahead.

She laughed and took the comb, running it through my hair.

"Must be tiring. At least it's your day off tomorrow, huh?"

Just as 'making small talk' was on my job description, it was on hers as well. Only, in the hour or so before my shift started I would much rather let my mouth rest a bit.

"Got a photoshoot."

"Ooh."

Curling iron.

"Hey, Yuuki. A new Yakiniku opened up in the mall up ahead. Wanna go try it sometime?"

"..." There was no point on spending extra time with some stylist who obviously wasn't going to visit the club I worked at.

Hair spray.

"No? Alright, alright."

I checked my phone to appear somewhat busy.

SHOUKO: Hey it's me from yesterday ヾ(•ω•')o