Disclaimer: I own only my main character and other fictional ones…

Chapter 1

Dusk had already broken out over Tokyo but the activity going on in its streets gave no sign of slowing down. If anything, the pace was heightened as tired employees with sad, worn-out looks on their faces bustled their way through the subway and the pedestrian-crossings, trying to get home as soon as possible. In the vortex of people emerging from the Narita train, the teenage girl went unnoticed except by a few who were still alert in the very least and these gave her second looks every time she passed them by. Before she left the station, she put a black cap on and brandished a map from her bulky haversack. She peered at it, frowned, looked around, then cautiously joined the crowd of pedestrians across the street.

Bright neon lights screaming advertisements out at her from almost every skyscraper made her both smile and frown with disapproval. Nevertheless, she kept her fists jammed into her pockets and quickened her pace, eager to reach her destination. A chill autumn wind was felt even though she was surrounded by warm bodies. Yes, no doubt about it, she was definitely going to hate Tokyo. Minutes later, she came to a less packed road. Still, just to be cautious, she pressed the button on the traffic light and waited for the pedestrian lights to turn green.

An obnoxious vroom sounded in the distance and she couldn't help but look. Barely seconds later, two modified cars (one a Fairlady and another a Skyline R32, she couldn't help notice) zoomed past her and literally took her breath away. Flashy vinyls, fluorescent underglow neon, and excessive bass beats? She smiled. This is more like it. The pedestrian lights switched from ominous red to grinning green and she crossed the road with a furiously-thinking mind.

At last, after almost an hour of wandering and asking for directions, she turned into a once-familiar street. It was narrow, with puddles of water here and there on the uneven road, and whiny traditional Japanese music screeching out from the dilapidated tea house. Yep, she thought with a sigh and a twitch of her shoulders, I'm coming home.

She walked several doors down the almost-dark street and came to a stop in front of a small house with the traditional paper sliding doors. She took a deep breath and jabbed at the buzzer. Same old, same old.

Footsteps padded inside the house and the door was slid open by a man with grey-white hair and a pair of keen grey eyes. A gaijin. Her father.

"Hi, Dad," she croaked unsteadily. A smile was attempted, but it turned out to be a very crooked one.

Dad broke into a wide, warm smile and wrapped his arms around her. "Hello, Yuri."

"So," he said once they had settled down with a teapot of tea (prepared by Yuri), "how's your mother?"

She laughed a little as she poured tea into two cups. "Not so good… I wouldn't have come all the way here if she was in a right state of mind."

He sat up straight. "You mean she's – "

"Crazy?" she finished for him. "Dad, she's never been sane – you dragged her out of her comfortable geisha life, then decided that the best thing for her – for us – was splitting up the marriage. The rest of the ride has pretty much been hell."

Dad chuckled as he sipped his tea. "You talk too maturely for someone your age."

She stared at him. "I'm 17, and I think I'm entitled to choose the things I want to say."

"17? You're 17 already?" he set his cup down on the table. "Gosh – when did you get so big? Where's my little Yuri?"

"She's all grown up," she declared simply. She downed her cup of tea and stood. "Where do I sleep? Is the closet still up for grabs?" Without waiting for an answer she grabbed her haversack and headed for her old room but before she could open the door, his voice suddenly said sharply, "Yuri – there's something I have to tell you."

She turned around and frowned. "What?"

He took a deep breath and released it, and paused for a few seconds, keeping his eyes on the ground, before finally daring to meet her gaze. "Yuri," he said slowly.

She set her haversack on the floor and folded her arms. "What is it, Dad?"

He gazed at her meaningfully. She realised that he was hiding something back, and that something was big, awful, and had something to do about her old room. But by the way he was fidgeting and looking about and shaking his head and muttering incomprehensibles, she had to let him calm down first. Prompting would only make things worse.

"Yuri," he said again, with the fervour of a man itching to run out of the room, "before your mother – there had been someone else. In the States. We divorced after three, er, problematic years, and – and trouble was – "

The door suddenly slid open and a man in his early twenties entered the house. Yuri stared at the intruder, half-ready to chase him out of the house, but as he stopped in his steps and stared at them, first at her father, then at her, she saw that he was a gaijin as well. He had closely-cropped brown hair and the top of his head barely brushed the ceiling (which was already quite low). But what stood out about him (and noticeable even in the dim lighting of her father's house) was his steel-grey eyes; like her father's.

Like hers.