Chapter 3

His eyebrows furrowed a bit, creasing his forehead in a semblance of deep thought. "This is fascinating. According to your preliminary research, Japanese youth aged 15 - 24 use their cell phone for text messaging more than for actual calls. I expect that cell phone plans there reflect that, by allowing more text messages versus actual cell minutes?"

The professor shifted uncomfortably in his airline seat. "I believe so yes. It's very preliminary field research though. We need to expand on it a little more. Through interviews and the like. That's where you'll come in."

"Me? I've been reviewing, but my Japanese is still quite terrible."

"It is certainly better than mine. I've been struggling with the language for years now. I still don't have the hang of all the pronunciations."

Merriment danced within Kevin's dark eyes. "And how is it that you are an Asian Studies Professor?"

"Long story." The professor brushed a stray piece of lint off of his jacket. "But, yes, you'll be aiding in the interviews. Some of my Japanese colleagues have pledged support, but I would much rather have someone more in touch with youth internet culture doing the interviewing."

Kevin nodded and stole a glance at the wispy clouds outside. "I hope that I'm of some use. I am very excited about this."

"I am certain you will be, my boy. After all, I went through all the trouble of blackmailing you into this. I expect you to carry your weight." The professor rifled through his book bag and pulled

out another study, "Now, if you find the cell phone study interesting you should look through their use of instant messaging services."

Kevin scanned the study. "Very low! Especially as compared to places like Hong Kong or even China. Strange, because Japan has an extremely high internet penetration. Some substitution effects perhaps. No AIM or MSN but lots of mobile to mobile stuff?"

"That was my initial thought, but there isn't much proof to substantiate it. It could be a coincidence." The professor beamed at his bright pupil. "I think that is one of the topics we ought to cover in our research. To actually substantiate the claim of instant messaging versus mobile phone use. Good thinking."

Kevin nodded and grinned at the praise. It was good to be exercising the mind on an overly dull plane flight. And the compliments helped too. His eyes darted to his watch. "We're landing in an hour. Any more for me to read?"

"Not really, you've already gone through most of the stuff I brought with me. Should've guessed you would burn through this stuff pretty quickly."

"It's very interesting. And as you said, it's a calling."

The professor harrumphed. "Don't worry, you'll have more to go through when we set up shop in Japan. We've got a bunch of policy papers to go through, as well as parallel research efforts by other social scientists."

"So this is well marked territory? That's no fun."

"Ah, but my esteemed colleagues have had surprisingly little luck in finding out where this strange phenomenon has come from. I am hoping that we're a little bit luckier."

Kevin stared at his professor, amused. "And what makes you think that we, two lone humans, can penetrate the fog which has confounded hundreds of others, many of whom are more intelligent and

well prepared than we?"

The professor settled back into his seat and grinned sleepily. "Pure academic hubris, my boy."

The plane tore the low hanging clouds to shreds as it set up for its entry into the airport. Landing lights flicked on, unnecessary though they were in the broad daylight. But pilots are creatures of habit, for what might be unnecessary one day would save the lives of crew and passengers the next. Narita slowly came into view, a huge block of pavement in the midst of urban sprawl. It dwarfed the houses in the nearby Chiba prefecture with its concrete arrogance.

Kevin's face was pressed against the window, still unable to completely understand what he had gotten himself into. The three day crash course he had crammed into his schedule before leaving Massachusetts had given him a passing vocabulary, although he expected to spend a couple of days assimilating the language before actually being able to converse.

At this point, he might be able to go into a noodle shop and order a bowl of soba without embarassing himself. Might. But he suspected he might have to embarass himself more than a couple of times before getting a hang of some of the nuances of the language. He prided himself on his cultural facility, a reflection of his parents wish to have him well versed and well traveled at his relatively young age.

But all his trips before had been carefully planned, with many weeks devoted to research, travel agents, and specific itineraries. This seemed terribly imprudent, almost recklessly fast. Within him he harbored a deep suspicion of the unknown, which guided many of his actions. Not typical of a college student his age, it was a factoid that perpetually bewildered his friends and family.

It was not an unwelcome trait, however, as it provided a deeply stable platform for more windblown figures to cling to and use for support. It was a role he had become accustomed to.

The plane bounced on the runway a couple of times, letting its flaps extend fully to act as drags in the air. It slowed its hurried rush down the tarmac until it reached the sedate speed at which it would taxi to the terminal.

Inauspiciously, perhaps, dark clouds began to intrude upon the horizon, threatening the formerly tranquil day with rain. He sighed good naturedly and poked his professor awake. The gray haired man awoke with a jolt and his student smiled and pointed to the friendly JAL stewardess who was assisting passengers with exit procedures. He grumbled loudly and nodded. Kevin retrieved his laptop bag and two suiter from an overhead storage bin and shuffled his way through the crowd to the front of the plane.

The inside of the terminal was brightly lit, glaringly so, as halogen lights shone down from the ceiling onto a mirror finish floor. The high ceilings gave it an airy sterility that eluded smaller airports, making it even more uncomfortable than it needed to be. As he made his way to the baggage claim, Kevin wondered what stories Narita held. Certainly tales of loves lost and reclaimed, perhaps even an adventure or two. Idly, he mused on whether he might be adding to those.

The walk was fairly long, aided considerably by the strategically placed moving walkways. Still, by the time they arrived at the claims area, his professor was wheezing, out of breath.

"Not...a....word," he gasped out.

"You don't get out of the office much do you?" Kevin spotted a suitcase on the conveyor belt and pulled it off to the side.

"Not particularly. Academia isn't particular conducive to good health. Besides, you're looking a little chunky yourself."

Kevin took the retort in stride. "You're absolutely right, sir. We both need to exercise. In fact, why don't I wake you up for a nice morning jog! Forget the train, we can run from here to Minato-ku!"

"My students, how they abuse me." The professor hefted a large duffel bag. "You got your stuff?"

"Yeah." Kevin slung his two suiter over his shoulder and pulled on the handle of his suitcase. "I forgot to ask. What are our living arrangements? Dorms?"

The professor actually smiled. "Actually, studio apartments in Minato city, in the Juuban district."

"Why there? Why not closer to one of the University of Tokyo campuses? Why not a dorm? Surely it would be cheaper."

"But more inconvenient for our research. You see, our research is going to focus on a particular class of Japanese youth, the offspring of the urban elite. They have the disposable income to buy such amenities as well as many substitutive items. It is through them that we will find the answers to our quandary."

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By American standards, it was painfully small, barely 250 sq ft. However, by Japanese standards it was quite large, and so he would have to make do. A tiny bedroom was wedged into the back, with an actual bed as opposed to those retractable ceiling ones he had seen in photographs. There was a slightly larger living/dining room with a minuscule kitchenette off to the side. The stove was gas burning, but modern, which suited him perfectly fine. In fact, the entire place was completely new, making him wonder how much he was actually spending on rent. The college had subsidized part of his expenses and his tuition was devoted to the rest. He would receive a small monthly stipend along with the occasional parental infusion of capital. It would certainly be enough to live for a couple of months....

'I think.' Kevin tossed his suitcase to the side and flopped down onto a futon-sofa. Amherst looked after its exchange students well, to the point of even pre furnishing foreign apartments. He grinned a little idiotically and swung his legs up to take advantage of the full length. It, too, was made in Japanese proportions, and his legs jutted out off of the end.

Sighing, he looked around again. Sparse to be certain, but given the terribly small space that didn't seem to be an issue.

Kevin glanced at his watch again. It was nearly midnight in Massachusetts, which made it sometime in the early afternoon for Tokyo. Oddly enough, he felt no fatigue. Guessing that his professor across the hall was snoring, he searched quietly for his keys and wallet. He was in a strange, new city. It would not do to stay in one's room, wasting away precious sightseeing time.

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"Oh, let's look at this shop!"

Makoto slapped her head. "Does she ever get tired of it?"

"Oh shush!" Usagi scampered after Minako into the curio store, leaving the three other girls in the dust. Rei rolled her eyes and Ami laughed dryly.

"Some things never change."

Sagely, Rei spoke. "Would you ever want them to?"

Ami shrugged. "A little change is good. For example, our current situation is the result of change."

The fiery priestess shrugged. Ever willing to engage in an argument, even with one far more intelligent than herself. "Come on Ami. Even you have to admit that predictability, whether with life, love, or war, is far better than unpredictability."

Ami's blue eyes danced merrily. "We're not talking about predictability, we're talking about change, the proverbial delta of chemistry. Change is fundamental to the system. If we are to thrive as a society and as individuals, we must embrace and prepare for change."

Rei turned her eyes to Mako. "A little help here?"

"Nope, sorry Rei." The thunder senshi laughed heartily. "I'm going to have to side with Ami on this one. Change is good, especially when that change involves us going from fukus and death defying situations to shopping on a Saturday."

"Point conceded." They all enjoyed a little laugh and then followed their two blond friends into the shop.

As close as any five friends could be, the senshi had grown quite a bit from the immature and quite unready middle schoolers who had faced down a professional army and all its expert leadership. What the enemies of the senshi continually underestimated was the love which bound their tribe together, the selflessness that defined their mode of battle and the sacrifice which it eventually entailed.

But for the first time in a long time, they no longer needed to prove that love and reckless devotion to duty in battle. Rather, it manifested itself in far less stressful situations.

Such as rummaging through a curio shop for items of dubious utility, just to say that one got a bargain on it.

And for that they were glad.

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He stopped into a shop for a bowl of real Japanese ramen. Bearing little resemblance to the little blocks of noodles and prepackaged soup broth so famous to American university students, the ramen he ate was the heart of Japanese soul food, the stuff of rainy days and homecooked meals.

Kevin watched as the cook expertly slice open the package of noodles and thrust it in the hot water, before dicing a hard boiled soy sauce steeped egg. He tossed it into a simple plastic bowl along with green cabbage and a wonderfully fragrant broth, before finishing it off with the noodles and a slice of nori seaweed.

Even before he dug in, the peppery broth brought tiny droplets of sweat to his forehead. He replied with American accented Japanese. "Thank you, it smells wonderful."

The cook nodded his thanks and dried his hands with a towel and favored him with an eager smile. "American?"

Kevin nodded in between slurps of noodles. "Hai. How could you tell?"

The cook shrugged and returned to a paper he had been reading before. "Your Japanese is quite good. For an American."

Kevin chuckled at his obvious disdain. "Thanks, I think."

"So what brings to you to Japan?" He tossed the paper aside and looked at Kevin. "Besides working on your Japanese, that is."

"Cellphone research at the University of Tokyo." Kevin took the time to stuff some more noodles into his mouth. "This is really good. What did you put in it?"

"It's an old family recipe." And with that, the cook launched into a tirade about his insistence on using the freshest materials and the sanctity of his family's recipe and how he could never impart such a precious artifact unto someone who was not bound by the unbreakable bonds of blood. But Kevin wheedled and begged, acting the part of a bright and ever curious pupil. It was not the recipe he was focused on, but the vast knowledge that a denizen of the city might have stored over the years: where to buy food, what parts of the city to go to for various items, and how a young man might spend his free time about town.

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Minako let her hand skim across a rack of DVDs and then, seemingly at random, pointed at one before withdrawing her hand. Her eyes seemed a little blank as she read the English and Japanese titles easily. Although not her first language, English had come relatively painlessly to her through a combination of school and travel. Which was fortunate, considering many an American tourist had confused her for a fellow countryman. That amusing thought brought a tiny smile to her face and a twinkle to her eyes.

Her eyes were deceptively vacant, hiding a surprisingly active and razorlike intellect. If anything, Minako's intelligence manifested itself best in the way that she allowed others to constantly underestimate her. Ami alone knew how smart her compatriot was, her genius able to detect the brilliant connections the senshi of love made.

And for all of Minako's outward flamboyance, she was quite content to remain in the background, at least with unimportant things. Although actual leader of the inner senshi, she had willingly ceded the leadership role to Usagi and even allowed Rei to fill the largely ceremonial position of second-in-command. But when those established roles failed, she competently took charge, salvaging the situations which others could not handle.

But to characterize her as simply a competent understudy would do a great disservice to our friend Minako Aino. Even to her closest friends, she was an enigma. They knew little of her past, save that she was the vaunted Sailor V. All of them sensed that there was another level to Sailor Venus, but there was still a lingering discomfort in asking her about it. She was a soul born of battle, who, more than any of the others, knew the wrenching pangs of loss and the insidious but no less destructive ache of loneliness. Her association with the senshi had staved that away temporarily, but Minako could not shed her past as easily.

However, she would be the first to deny such accusations and toss out speculation that she was anything but a happy, hale, and hearty young woman, with a forgivable obsession with romance. "How about this one? 'You've Got Mail' starring Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks."

Ami wrinkled up her nose. "Would that film be categorized underneath that terrible American moniker, the chick flick?"

Rei grabbed the disc from Minako. "Come on, Ami-chan, you like them as much as the rest of us."

Ami looked at Usagi and Makoto for support, but found only innocent smiles and shrugs. "Sometimes I wonder why I even hang out with you guys."

Usagi grabbed her arm and favored her with a blessedly vibrant smile. "Tis your lot in life, Ami. To put up with the inanities and wistful, romantic dreams of your friends."

Ami let her mouth drop open slightly and then looked almost betrayed. "You already HAVE a boyfriend, lest we forget. I don't think that wistful is very accurate."

Usagi giggled. "Then call it entertaining our romantic hearts. Besides, with a sleepover, you've got be prepared with all sorts of randomly girlish things. Especially subtitled American 'chick flicks.'" She pronounced the last words with an evident Japanese accent, coming out as 'chikku furikku.'

Makoto grinned. "Well, Ami-chan, it looks like you're overruled."

Dryly, "Not the first time, believe me. I suppose it will provide an excellent tutorial on English. I have needed to brush up on it for a while, especially with us entering high school next year."

Minako beamed. "There you go! Finding the silver lining on every cloud!"

The girls giggled collectively at her cheery outburst and picked up a couple more movies to watch that night before heading out of the store. Minako rummaged through the bag she carried, making sure that her wallet was hidden amongst the stacks of DVDs. She reached in and grabbed it before looking up to see her friends already ahead of her.

They waved and she scampered towards them to catch up, barely dodging a collision with another shopper in her rush.

The man, dressed like an American, dropped his bags to the floor and sidestepped quickly to avert a comic tragedy. Or he would have, had his foot not caught hers, simultaneously tripping both of them. She twisted as she fell, managing to land on her side. He was not so lucky as he face planted in the pavement with only his hands managing to slow his fall.

She jumped up and scampered over to the stranger. "Gomen nasai! Are you alright?"

The young man groaned and turned over, his eyes squeezed shut, and replied in American accented Japanese. "Hai, Arrigato." He opened his eyes, focusing on the girl above him, and he smiled briefly before replying in English. "I mean, thank you very much."

Minako sheepishly helped him up and began to dust him off carefully. "I'm terribly sorry. I'm such a klutz sometimes!"

He chuckled softly and retrieved his bags. "No harm done."

Kevin nodded his regards to her and retrieved his bag before walking resolutely in the other direction. Minako stared at his retreating back for a moment, then turned to rejoin her friends.