Ikebukuro
Let me start by saying that Bob and I did not intend to lose our granddaughter in the middle of Tokyo during a national emergency, even though she was behaving like an enfant terrible. We were just trying to get some rest. How could we have known what was coming? We’re telepaths, not seers.
Looking back, I can see that it had been building for a few days, but this morning, at the breakfast buffet in the hotel dining room, Bailey blew up.
After the incident in Kamakura, we kept a low profile, avoiding crowds, and visiting quiet temples and gardens. The day before, we’d gone to Kyoto. In the morning, we strolled the bamboo forest, where Bailey shot about a hundred photos. After that, we toured Nijo Castle with its nightingale floor, in which Bailey showed mild interest when she read that its chirping was designed to alert its inhabitants to murderous Ninjas. But the Fushimi Inari Temple and its thousand torii gates elicited groans and sighs that grew ever louder as we climbed the uneven stone stairs, passing by countless mossy shrines and fox statues.
The smooth ride on the Shinkansen bullet train back to Tokyo was a welcome break, but by the time we’d navigated through the Shinjuku train station and back to our hotel, all Bob and I could do was drop onto our compact twin beds. Bailey spent an hour in the bathroom, showering and doing her hair, before edging past us and flopping onto her cot with a huff, texting furiously on her phone. I tried to deflect her thoughts, but the proximity and intensity were too much for me. They broke through my mental shield: O-M-G, I’m so bored I’m going to scream! I never want to see another temple. I’d kill for some bread and peanut butter! I need to get out of this closet of a hotel room and away from these dusties!
Ungrateful little cow, Bob said in my head. He’d received her thoughts, too.
What 15-year-old isn’t? I sent back, heaving a sigh. What were we thinking when we agreed to bring her? I had an idea why I had agreed, and it wasn’t solely to benefit Bailey. But I should have known better. After all, I taught hormone-addled teenagers for more than twenty years. It was inevitable that she would become bored and restless with only us for company.
Bob switched on the television to what appeared to be a game show in a flashy cartoon-like setting with a crazy, jagged-haired host who squealed and jumped up and down. It caught Bailey’s attention and quieted her thoughts. We all stared at the screen, not comprehending a word, trying to figure out what was going on, until our minds numbed, and we lay down to sleep.
I tossed and turned all night with bursitis stabbing my hip, and Bob cursed when his raw and blistered heels stuck to the sheets. In the morning, we went down to the dining room and collectively passed by the fermented soybeans and seaweed at the breakfast buffet. We sat down with our cereal and coffee, and I told Bailey we would need to take the day off and just rest in the hotel.
Her head snapped up and her spoon clinked into her bowl of muesli and yogurt. “What am I supposed to do? What did I come all the way to Japan for? To sit around in some cramped hotel room with two old fogeys?”
People at the surrounding tables grew still at Bailey’s shrill voice. The tinkling of spoons and scraping of chairs stopped. Even the attendant at the buffet stopped refilling the fish platter.
“I need to go to Ikebukuro,” she wailed. “That’s where the manga and anime culture is.” Her bottom lip wobbled.
I could have stood my ground, but I knew I wouldn’t get any rest with her huffing and glaring at me all day, and there was something else niggling me—a pebble of guilt sticking in my craw. I wished I had spent more time with her when she was younger, but I enjoyed my independence and freedom from responsibility too much to want to babysit. Or was it deeper yet—the desire for parental redemption? Maybe it was because I wanted to be a better grandmother than I had been a mother.
Bob, however, was Bailey’s step-grandfather; he had no children and no parental bags of guilt. I sensed he was about to give Bailey a lecture, so I sent him a message to keep quiet. He scowled but clamped his lips.
After finishing our meal, we went back up the elevator to our room, where I slathered diclofenac on my hip and took two extra-strength Tylenol. Then I helped Bob bandage his heels while Bailey spent another forty minutes doing her hair and make-up and deciding which hoodie to wear before we set off for the train station.
The warren of Shinjuku Station was starting to become familiar, and it was past rush hour, so we didn’t need to hang onto each other in a crush of people. Bailey used a translation app to find which train would take us to Ikebukuro—the Yamanote line. There were even seats available, so we didn’t have to stand.
At Ikebukuro, we emerged from the station under the Seibu department store, Bailey leading the way, distancing herself from us. I could feel her desire to be rid of us, to unshackle herself from the two oldies. Phone in her hands, she navigated across a wide street and then down Sunshine-Dori, ironically shadowed by the tall buildings on either side, then she turned left onto a street closed to traffic but littered with anime fans—mainly young, masked females in platform shoes, with myriad hair colors. Bob and I, with our gray hair and sensible shoes, stood out like two dandelions gone to seed in a hothouse of cultivated flowers. Bailey stepped onto a concrete plaza dotted with cherry trees in front of a massive grey and blue building with its name emblazoned at the top—Animate. When we limped up behind her, she turned to us with wide, shining eyes, saying breathlessly, “Ten floors of manga and anime merch.”
“I hope you have lots of Japanese yen with you,” I said. Bob and I hobbled along with her into the foyer, greeted by a life-size anime figure beside an escalator. I wanted only to sit down and rest my aching hip. And then I noticed, past the foyer, a café. It was like spotting land after being lost at sea. It almost brought tears to my eyes. “Look, we can sit down and get a coffee.”
Bailey shot me a look that could rival Linda Blair in The Exorcist. “I’m going upstairs to the manga section.” She tossed her head, whipping her hair over her shoulder, and stepped on the escalator.
I blinked and gave my head a little shake. “Okay, but we’ll wait down here. Just keep your phone on to let us know where you are.”
We watched her sail up the escalator before shuffling to the café, the rich aroma of coffee infusing our steps.
The lattes came with cutesy anime characters painted on the foam. I took little sips that gradually ate away at the figure. We nursed them for almost an hour while sitting on hard, plastic chairs, surrounded by chirping flocks of girls in short skirts and tights, their eyes made up to look big and round.
“We’re going to have to move soon. They’re not going to let us sit here all day,” Bob said. “It’s going to be hard to get up, though.” He groaned.
“I know,” I sighed heavily. “I just want a day to rest and figure out our next move. I don’t know what we’re going to do with her this afternoon.”
So, imagine our surprise and relief when a joyful Bailey rushed up to our table along with two Japanese girls. “Grandma and Grandpa, this is Kana and Yuki. I met them upstairs and they want to take me to Sunshine City!” I hadn’t seen her so lively and happy since Kamakura.
The girls bowed their heads, saying “Pleased to meet you,” in heavily accented English. They had platform shoes and short skirts, but their hair wasn’t dyed or tied in pigtails.
After inviting them to sit down, I ascertained that they were on some sort of Spring Break from school and about the same age as Bailey. They wanted to practice their English. They were charming, bashful, and giggly. Sunshine City was an entertainment center and mall a few blocks away that attracted cosplay events. They agreed to escort Bailey back to our hotel by five o’clock.
What do you think? I thought to Bob.
He gave me a raised eyebrow look. They seem fine, and she’s getting quite independent at getting around here. And she has her phone.
I’m not sure. It makes me nervous. Bailey was staring at me with wide, shining eyes.
It’s only a few hours…a few hours of rest.
So, Bob and I watched them run off gleefully and we gratefully tottered back to our hotel room in Shinjuku.
#
The bed jiggled, rousing me from my nap. I turned to Bob, whose head jerked up, a frown of confusion on his face. Then a sharp, repeating whoop filled the room, coming from our buzzing phones, accompanied by a voice, saying, “Jishin desu,” over and over. The beds rocked harder.
Earthquake! I heard from Bob’s mind.
Then both of us yelled, “Bailey!”
Fumbling with my phone, I typed, “Where are you? Are you safe?”
Sirens sounded in the hotel. I stared at the phone screen, willing a response, but none came. I felt like I was in a boat floating on waves.
Panic gripped my chest. No, no. This can’t be. I put my hand over my mouth.
Bob stumbled into the TV, grabbing onto the console table for balance before scooping his clothes off the floor. “She’ll be okay, Jan. But we might need to go get her.” He sat on the shaking bed to pull on his socks and pants, then looked at me. “Jan. Get dressed.”
I was frozen with fear, a huge sob blocking my throat, and my mind shut down. The sirens continued to sound as Bob lurched from his bed to mine. He grabbed my shoulders, put his forehead on mine, and sent his thoughts into my mind: Breathe. In and out. In and out. Slowly. Breathe. That’s right. Look at me. She’ll be okay. She’s with girls who are familiar with this. They’ll probably evacuate the building when it stops, which we should do, too. Okay?
I swallowed and nodded. The shaking stopped, but the hotel siren continued.
The elevators weren’t running, so we found the emergency exit and joined the other guests streaming down the steps, clutching the handrail as the staircase jolted intermittently. Only five floors for us, luckily. We emerged onto the sidewalk outside the hotel, along with all the other guests and staff. A man announced something in Japanese, followed by English. We were waiting for an “all clear” message from authorities. Then my phone pinged with a text from Bailey: “I’m outside the Sunshine City building now, but I lost Kana and Yuki when we evacuated. I’m okay but scared.”
A chorus of sirens was ringing in the distance. I pictured her standing there, in the crowds milling around on the sidewalk, just like us. Except she was alone in a foreign land and fifteen years old. My heart lurched. “We’ll come get you. Wait there.”
“Hurry. My phone’s going to die.”
I allowed Bob full access to my thoughts, so he instantly knew what I knew. He grabbed my hand, and we dodged our way through the throngs of people, up the block toward the train station entrance. I was about to suggest that we hail a taxi, but that’s when I noticed that the vehicle traffic wasn’t moving. It was as if all the cars and trucks had become stuck in the pavement. The engines were silent. Only a lone scooter purred slowly through the spaces between them.
Outside the train station, the sidewalks were jammed with people, most not moving, staring at their phone screens. There were no obvious signs of damage—no broken windows or cracked walls—but the gates were blocked by a line of uniformed attendants, one of whom made an announcement in Japanese. Bob and I stared at each other, the same thought in our heads. The trains aren’t running!
I dug my phone from my purse. Good. Still had service. I googled “Sunshine City, Ikebukuro” and then tapped “Directions.” Twenty minutes by car, twenty-one by train, twenty-five by bicycle, and one hour thirteen minutes by foot.
Raising my head, I looked past the milling crowds—remarkably calm and well-behaved—to the still motionless traffic, the blocked station gates, and back to Bob. What are they waiting for? Do you think things will start moving?
I don’t know. Let’s get going.
As we set off, I texted Bailey. “We have to walk. About an hour and ten. Put your phone on low power mode.”
“I can meet you.”
I glanced at Bob. He gave his head a severe shake, and sent a thought to me, No. She could get lost, and there might be aftershocks.
I replied, “No. Stay put. Away from the building.”
Then there was nothing to do but grit our teeth and follow the Google lady’s directions.
She led us east, the crowds thinning as we moved away from the station, past a shining 30-story building flanked by shorter structures, to a corner with a Family Mart. Here, we crossed the thoroughfare, weaving through the stopped traffic, and then headed northeast. The sidewalk was clearer, and we picked up our pace. Bob limped and I lurched. We both began to puff.
“It’s only five kilometers,” I huffed. “We go farther than that when we do the trails back home.” I made my voice chipper, trying to buoy my spirits as well as Bob’s. My hip was being stabbed with a needle.
He grunted, saving his breath, but sent me his thoughts. On nice, soft larch needles, without injured parts. He glanced over quickly with a tight smile. But we’ll make it.
We passed hotels, noodle and sweet shops, department stores, and I don’t know how many convenience stores—Family Marts, Lawsons, Seven Elevens. I wanted to buy a cane or walking stick, but they were all closed. The sirens had quieted but then our phones whooped again, and the sidewalk shimmied. We stopped and I texted Bailey. “Aftershock. Don’t panic. Just stay clear of tall buildings.”
After a long moment, there was still no reply. My chest seized with anxiety. Her phone must be dead, I sent to Bob.
We took off again, hobbling as fast as we could. You remind me of Chester on Gunsmoke, I thought to Bob, surprised by this image from my childhood television watching.
He huffed a laugh and grimaced.
Now we were going by condominium complexes and then we crossed a bridge over a river. Only the odd siren now, and a few cars whizzed past. We passed a transit station with parked buses and a complex with playing fields and multi-storied concrete buildings—a college or university. Then the Google lady told us to cross an intersection and veer north. We’d been walking for forty minutes. We approached a Lawson convenience store that was open.
I didn’t go in. We were so close to Sunshine City. After five more minutes, the Google lady announced, “Turn right, then your destination will be on your right.” My breath puffed up in my chest as I anticipated finding Bailey. We passed under an elevated highway, but then we stopped. There was a huge office building in front of us, and according to the map, beyond that were other large buildings—the Sunshine City Prince Hotel, then the Sunshine City Mall, with many squares and green spaces between them, but all I could see was a wall, a barrier along the street. Sunshine City was a whole city block, a walled complex. How were we going to get into it?
Bob pointed at the intersection. Let’s try that street. You know that app is wrong sometimes.
We hurried along beside the office building, passing a mural in relief, and then we noticed, up ahead, people coming onto the sidewalk from somewhere. Then we rounded the corner of the building, where a set of brick stairs led up and into the complex, with “Sunshine City” emblazoned on the top of a building in the distance.
We dragged ourselves up the stairs and arrived in what looked like a forested, paved park, a maze of pathways in front of us. How could we locate Bailey when her phone wasn’t working?
I had spoken to her telepathically once before, in an emergency. But I’d managed to quell her suspicions and convince her that it wasn’t a telepathic message. We hadn’t revealed our power to anyone, and we wanted to keep it secret, but I was desperate to find her. I think we need to…I projected to Bob.
He frowned deeply. I don’t know. She can’t transmit back to us. What good will it do?
She could yell or wave, couldn’t she? We need to find her!
He closed his eyes and gave his head a tight nod. Okay. Give it a try.
Bailey, we’re here! Where are you? I sent my thoughts out as we shambled along the pathways in the general direction of the Sunshine City sign we’d seen before getting into the trees. I didn’t know how far I could transmit. In Kamakura, we’d been right beside each other when I’d sent Bailey my thoughts.
Bob tried, too. Bailey, if you can hear us, yell.
No response. We searched for her long chestnut hair and red hoodie in the clots of people milling about or sitting on benches in the open-air spaces under the trees. We kept moving as fast as we could, continuing to transmit our thoughts out to her. We pushed toward a soaring hotel tower and then suddenly entered a huge, tiled plaza that was flanked by two towers, and on the far side, the Sunshine City building. Among the low shrubs and pathways, the plaza was occupied by crowds, hundreds of people.
Bailey, we’re here. Where are you? I put as much energy as I could muster into my transmission. I scanned the crowds, searching for a waving hand.
Then I heard a faint voice in my mind. Grandma? Is that you?
My eyes popped open wide. Bob and I stared at each other. We both knew what this meant. Bailey could not only receive our thoughts but send them to us. My chest filled with relief and then a knot of anxiety. But I put it aside and focused on finding her.
Yes. Where are you?
On the walkway in front of Sunshine City, with bushes on either side.
Bob scanned the plaza and pointed. “Over there.”
We’re coming!
We race hobbled across the plaza toward the spot Bailey had described. As we moved, the crowds began to thin, with people walking toward buildings and exits. They must have received a message that the danger was over.
We reached the entrance to the walkway and scanned its length between the bushes. There was Bailey, standing with Kana and Yuki. Her face lit up and she sprinted to us, hugging first me and then Bob. Tears spilled from her eyes.
Warmth and light radiated through my body. Was this the feeling of redemption? Is there anything better than being loved by a grandchild? “Oh, Bailey, I’m so relieved we found you. And it looks like Kana and Yuki found you, too.” The two girls trotted up to us.
“Yes. They found me and stayed with me until you could get here.” She smiled shyly at the girls. “Thank you for staying. You can go home now. We’ll keep in touch.”
The two girls bowed their heads, said goodbye, and flitted off.
There was a moment of silence. Bailey examined us both with wide, enquiring eyes.
Bob said, “I sure hope the trains are running. Or maybe a taxi. I can’t walk another block.”
“Me too. My hip feels like it has a shard of glass in it.”
Bailey gave us a shrewd look and said, “Okay, let’s head toward the train station. You can lean on me. And along the way, you can tell me what’s going on.”