Tokyo is a massive mess spread out over 2,325 km². It's almost its own world, despite the fact that it's so... Japan. Yes, that's a strange way to put it, but it's the only way to put it. The whole city is an interconnected web of contradictions, both real, as well as only a contradiction at a glance. Maybe the same can be said of Hong Kong, or London, or New York. Tokyo is also the head of pretty much anything art-related in Japan; it's the beating heart of our culture, if you will... and if you are the easily persuaded type. But no matter how many one-liners I threw around, I still had one huge problem ahead of me: there is no centralized "art" district, or gathering, or commune, or what have you, anywhere in Tokyo. It's just all over the place, several hotspots, but all incredibly far apart. Walking around was out of the question, so I was definitely going to get well acquainted with the rail system. Tezuka sure picked a hell of a place to disappear. Typical of her; when wasn't she playing "hard-to-get?"

I ended up grabbing a room in a hotel that Katagiri suggested. It was pretty cheap, but not too dirty, and the staff looked trustworthy enough. Not that I had taken anything too valuable anyway; I had just thrown in whatever I spotted right before I ran out. I didn't bother unpacking much, leaving the bulk of my things still in their bags. I wanted to get started as soon as possible, while the trail was still warm. It was late in the morning when I headed out to the first place on Katagiri's list. I had to use the navigation app on my phone to find it. I spent I don't know how long with my nose rubbing against the screen, bumping into the occasional person, getting a stare when riding the bus, or when nearly walking straight into a tree. Pfft, the trees; the damn things were everywhere, apparently a part of some project to ease the amount of greenhouse gasses, but I still felt like I was walking through solid matter. I actually remembered that there had been plenty of trees before, anyway. Plus, Tokyo wouldn't be Tokyo without that feeling you've been wrapped up in whale blubber.

I rubbed my face, lit a cigarette, and tried to think positive; my current train of thought was going nowhere except to the bottom of a glass. There would be plenty of time for that later. Once I had regained my composure, I put my phone away and stood in front of my destination, a gallery called "Avenue." I looked up at the sign above the doorway, written out entirely in English characters, and chuckled to myself. I brought up my hands, let them drop, striking the sides of my legs, said, "So," then shook my head. So. Heh. So, there I was, dependent as ever on science to function, standing in front of a gallery named after a location (and still just as lost), glaring at the too-bright world with narrowed bloodshot eyes, and I didn't have one goddamn nice thing to say about anyone or anything, especially myself. Someone once told me that even when you lose, you still gain the lesson. I remembered brushing him off, but what I should have done was ask what to do when confronted with a losing streak. I pinched out my umpteenth cigarette and stepped inside.

The gallery was nothing special, but larger than I first thought. There were odd corners and angles everywhere because the walls seemed to be placed at random, creating rooms of various sizes. There were no doors, though, so the atmosphere felt very open, making it easier to wander, or more like "flow" through the gallery. The walls were white, there were paintings, sculptures, and what have you. It was exactly as you would expect it to be.

To the left of the entrance was a small desk with a fashionably dressed man sitting behind it, reading a magazine. He looked up at me only once, his eyes darting up and down, evaluating and calculating. Apparently all I was worth was a quick, "Welcome," before he went back to his magazine. I looked at what he was reading, then saw there were more sitting on a rack by the desk. I walked up to the man, clearing my throat. I'm sure he tried his very best to nicely quip, "What?"

"How much for the magazine?"

"They're free."

I grabbed one, "Is it any good?"

"What?"

"The magazine." I flipped through it, "Looks like they talk a lot about art and galleries and such. Do they know what they are talking about?"

"Yeah, there's a lot of good info in there, it'll help you get your bearings."

"Heh, so it's written all over my face?"

He gave me another once-over, then, while opening up his magazine, "And stitched in your clothes."

I laughed. I laughed, and didn't stop for a while. It sounded a bit goofy, mostly because it was fake, but after a moment, I really did start to get amused by the man's annoyed expression. He finally turned to me, and I said, "Oh me, oh my. Very good. And people call me the comedian."

He gave me a sardonic smile, "So I take it you need help?"

"Yes, I need help finding the more abstract stuff."

"Try Berlin."

"Berlin?"

He nodded. I moved to ask him for directions, but a hand gently touched my elbow. I turned and saw it belonged to a young woman in a sharp suit. She peered at me through flashy glasses, "What was that you were looking for?"

"Something abstract," I said. "More like abstract paintings."

The woman seemed to be generally thinking hard for me, and I was honestly impressed. The woman flashed me a smile, "You looked so lost, I figured I would try to help you out. It's not easy getting into art."

"Yeah, you don't say," I said. The guy behind the desk grunted, probably thinking the remark had been about him. I spoke to the woman, but loud enough for him to hear, "So, I take it he's someone's cousin or something?"

Her face didn't show it much, but I could tell she was holding in a chuckle. She motioned me away, and once we were out of earshot, "Close. It's nephew." Then she did chortle, adding, "You're lucky it wasn't son."

"Son would have had the police on me in a second."

She gave me a look, "You do this often?"

"What, mouth off? Sort of. I picked up the habit near the end of high school. You learn a thing or two as time goes on."

"And do you know anything about art?"

No quick one for that. "Not so much. I used to know someone who did. So, I don't know... I just decided to check it out."

By the look on her face that was either the lamest or craziest answer to that question. She drew a breath, "Well... all right. Everyone starts somewhere, I guess. You said something about abstraction?"

"Abstract paintings, yes."

She knit her eyebrows together, "Hmm, well, abstraction isn't all that common in Japan. I mean, yes, there's lots of abstract paintings, but not really too many abstract artists in Japan. The number is growing, but in a gallery like this, you aren't going to be so lucky. That's probably why he told you to try Berlin."

"What's in Berlin?"

She pondered, then said, "Germans, I hear."

"You'd think a place for the arts would come up with something more creative."

She laughed, and I laughed with her. "Oh, let me have my fun," she said. "And try not to mind him so much. He's still pretty young, and can be pretty hard-headed. He doesn't understand that anyone can enjoy art. So, speaking of which, why abstraction? I mean, I'm not too sure if you're looking to purchase a piece or not, but even so, art is a big investment."

"Big investment?"

She nodded gravely, "Yes, and more than just financially. Sure, a lot of these pieces cost a lot, but remember that you're going to be looking at them for a long while. And even if you're not here to buy, you should make sure you follow or give interest to works that really speak to you, or otherwise things will just fizzle out. Don't ever pick anything just because so-and-so said it was good. Ugh, I hate people like that. You should have a pretty good reason before getting into anything, and at any level." She stuck out her chest, "That shows that you have some sort of integrity."

"Integrity, eh? Well...," I broke up my speech, and scratched my chin, "...Well, I saw some pictures of some of... Tezuma? No, wait, Tezuka. Yeah, Tezuka Rin's work. That looked pretty interesting."

"Ah, yes, I know of her. Actually, I think we still have some of her works. Which ones did you see?"

"Well... ah... I don't really remember the names."

"Oh, were they some of her 'Nameless' ones?"

"I don't... I don't know."

"Well, what did they look like?"

I honestly wondered for a minute if there was an actual way to describe Rin's paintings in words. I still gave it a shot, "Erm... abstract?" I couldn't look her in the eyes. "And... interesting."

Oh, shut up. I'd like to see you try.

"Oh... well...," she nodded very slowly, "Oooookay. This way."

The place wasn't crowded, so we both talked as loud as we wanted, at least within reason. As we walked, she pointed out one thing or another, never diving too deep, instead waiting to see if I was really interested. It was both polite and slightly unnerving. She was trying her hardest to be informative, but at the same time, judging my reactions to every new piece of information. I guess it wasn't all that bad; she just wanted to be sure that I was satisfied.

It didn't take long to find Rin's things. There weren't that many of them, and while they weren't up front, they weren't stuffed away in the back, either. The woman waved her arm across the pictures slowly, "Well, here we are."

I hate to sound like a broken record, but I didn't know what to think. Sure, you would think that would be the normal reaction, but this definitely wasn't a normal situation. The woman had been smiling, but it was slowly faltering, "Ah, not... not really what you wanted, is it?"

"Shh."

That put her off somewhat, "Excuse me?"

I shook my head, but didn't turn away from the paintings, "I'm sorry, but could you... could you be quiet for just a moment? I know this isn't the nicest way to ask, but this..." Well, what the hell could I say? Anything more would give away what I was really doing, that I knew more than I was letting on. It would even tell that I was personally involved with Tezuka at one point.

She nodded, then turned her gaze back to the paintings, "Yes, I'm sorry. I understand, you need to concentrate, that was foolish of me."

"No," I said, barely able to keep my words in check, "It's that this is so, well, different than anything I've seen before. Even... just, even... it's just so jarring."

She nodded gravely, "Yes, rather off-putting, isn't it? She doesn't do this often, but every once and a while, her works tend to get like this. There's a few scattered throughout her career, and we've sold a few, but, well, you're feeling firsthand what a lot of others did. I'm not too sure what brings this on in her, but sometimes, I guess she just needs to get..."

"Violent." I licked my lips as I said it.

"Um, yes, you could say that." She fidgeted.

I took a few steps away from her and towards the paintings. I don't even know where to begin when it comes to describing them in detail, and I'm actually kind of glad that I can't. Rin had painted people contorted in strange ways before, and maybe even in painful ways, but these were images of sheer agony. There was no other way to say it. A lot of the colors were muted, and many ran together, with everything somewhat merged into each other, so that it was hard to tell when one part of the painting ended and another began. There was nothing free or separate. One other thing that seemed to feature in the three that were before us was that they all seemed to be indoor "scenes." It wasn't hard to tell what was going on there. All of the subjects˗ because that was the only word I can come up with for the... "main parts" of each painting˗ were locked inside. As for everything else, I could only see that agony. I stepped closer to one of the paintings, narrowing my eyes and focusing on one small part at a time. Whatever the hell I was looking at seemed to have many arms, at least eight, and some of them were all reaching into another part of "it" and ripping pieces out. There were many faces, all looking like they were captured mid-scream. Some of the arms were holding what looked like spot-lights. The part that really got to me though, the part I'll never forget, was that it looked like everything was eating each other.

My vision started to swim, and I took a shaky step back. I felt the woman's hands on my shoulders, and she asked if I was all right. I said I was, but I would like to take a seat. There happened to be a bench nearby, so we sat, still facing the paintings. She asked me again if I was all right, and I said, "I just don't get what was going through her mind. I can't believe she of all people did this. It's so unlike her. Those are so angry, and I've never seen her get to that point."

"What?"

I stiffened, realizing I had just gaffed, but I could still salvage it, "I mean, compared to everything else she's done. There's, erm, feeling, but not like that."

The woman sighed, "Yes, I know." She seemed rather upset. I asked her what was wrong, and she kept brushing me off, but she did finally crack, "Look, this is going to sound really, really shallow, but this is all the Tezuka Rin we have left, we might not get another one, at least for a while, and the damn things won't sell." She threw up her hands for a second before plopping them back in her lap, "I mean, yes, they're actually pretty amazing, I mean, I've never seen one person look at them and not be affected, and that is definitely something, but good God." She bowed her head in exasperation.

I chuckled, "I think I understand where you are coming from. Maybe. It's all right though, I won't judge you."

She smiled at me, "Thanks. Now if I could just get you to pay my rent for me..."

"At least take me out to dinner first."

She scoffed, "I thought that was my line."

"It's the twenty-first century, be a good modern girl and take charge. And pay."

"Don't worry, dear, mother will take care of everything."

We chuckled, and she seemed to brighten up. As much as I hated to spoil things just as they were getting sunnier, I motioned to the painting I had been closely inspecting, "What is the name of that one anyway? I see there's a little plaque, but..."

"But you don't want to go near it. Gotcha." She stretched and stood up, "It's called 'Beautiful People.'"

"'Beautiful People?'"

She shrugged, "A lot of Tezuka's work has been viewed as satirical. I think it's supposed to be about the movie or modeling industries, I don't know." She smiled sheepishly, "I know that wasn't the most eloquent way to put it, sorry."

"I like a more relaxed atmosphere, you could drop the pretenses and I'd be just fine. Satirical, huh?" She shrugged. I was more than a little confused. Tezuka had her opinions on things, but somehow I didn't picture her sitting around with a bunch of experts, pipe in her mouth, talking about the current state of the economy or whatever. Who would understand her, anyway? Would she paint her answers? Would they wait for her to do it? Maybe she'd settle for a dry erase board.

Maybe I needed a smoke.

"You mind if I excuse myself for a moment? I figure I can't smoke in here."

"No, it would be bad for the works."

"Okay then. Do you mind waiting? I would actually like to continue this conversation."

She gave a small, sweet smile that didn't really mean much, other than it meant more than just simply nothing, "Sure, why not, it's a slow day. It is a weekday, after all, and yeah, I'm enjoying this, too." Perfect, she was just where I wanted her: liking me, but not too much.

I made a show of turning towards the front door, before stopping and asking, "Oh yeah, just one thing." I turned to face her, "Where do artists hang out?"

"Wait, what?"

I shrugged, "Where do artists hang out?"

She looked at me skeptically, "Is this a joke? As in, I say 'I don't know' and then you give a punchline?"

"Nope. You said it, art is a big investment. These people," I waved my hand around, "they interest me."

"'Interest' you? What does that mean?"

I scratched my head, trying hard to look honest, "Well, this whole art thing is pretty interesting. Not just the work, but the lifestyle, too. I've always lived a buttoned-up kind of life, and I was wondering about theirs. It just seems interesting, looking at their way of seeing the world."

"Well, your mere curiosity might end up costing you quite a bit, mister... I'm sorry, but I don't think I've caught your name yet."

"Nakai. And don't worry. I know I don't look it, especially since I was never one for showing off, but I can handle most things that are thrown at me, expense-wise."

"Well, if you don't mind me asking, what is it that you do, Mr. Nakai?"

"Medical research." I shrugged again.

She had an eyebrow raised, "Um, okay, but why...?"

"I always write the reports. I'm the best at writing the reports, keeping the journals, recounting the events, that sort of thing. It's probably because I'm the bookworm out of the bunch of us. I write things in a more 'interesting' kind of way then the usual dull drab you get. The thing is, I've actually taken a liking to writing, but those reports are just so boring." I took out a smoke and started to tap in on my palm, "It kind of unnerves me. In order to do everything objectively, you have to, well, kind of 'zoom out' when it comes to people. Heh, I see I'm losing you, but bear with me. You can't afford to key in on person, or even one group. You have to treat the whole of humanity like, well, a beach. Except each little grain has friends, a lover, a family, dreams, and so much. But when you treat them as part of some big whole, you forget that. And then, you see something like...," I pointed at Rin's works, "that. That's something you can't really explain scientifically, and it reminds you that people are a lot more complex than a pure objective report would give you. We all have the same parts, the same organs, the same wiring, but we use it all so differently. I forgot that at some point, and art... it reminded me about people."

"So, what, you're writing about them?"

"Kind of a hobby, just collecting things on artists. Maybe I'll polish it up one day and try to get it out there, but for now, I've just got lots of notes and purple prose that needs axing. It'll probably just amount to me taking an interest in art. Never thought I would get into this, but, well..."

She sighed, but the smile was back. She obliged me, and I took out a little notepad and scribbled down the names of places she gave me. When it was all over, though, my lack of expression took her by surprise. I just nodded curtly, looking a little annoyed, even, and said I would be right back. I left her looking confused at my back as I walked outside. I made sure that she couldn't see me, and then I compared what she just said to me to the list Katagiri gave me. "Son of a bitch, that figures," I grumbled to myself. There were one or two that were different between the two, but they were mostly just the same. In short, she gave me what someone would give Katagiri. That was no good. The man had said it himself, he wouldn't mix well with that crowd. And hell, it was written all over his face, and stitched all in his clothes. I was going to have to needle this woman, and hope she would cough up something worthwhile. Hopefully my somewhat "upset" demeanor I just showed her would play in and help me: I had gambled by pretending to only made a show of taking down what she told me, because I already knew what she had given me was for the "tourists," and not worth my time. I practiced a few scowls by looking at my reflection in a window, picked one that looked annoyed but not too threatening, and headed back in.

She was still right where I left her. She took sight of me walking over with my hands in my pockets, looking somewhat stormy. I pretended to be a little shocked when she saw me, like I had been caught, and I was standing like I had changed my mind and was moving to leave again without saying a word to her. It worked, and she called out, "Hey! Hey, what's going on?"

I made a few indecisive noises, then skulked over, "Ahem, well, I was just... never mind, I've taken up enough of your time today, and I don't think I will be buying anything. I think I'll be on my way." I spoke quickly, like I wanted to end the conversation before it even started.

"Hey, wait! What's the matter?" She put a hand on my shoulder.

I sighed deeply, then turned to her, "Those really are all the places that you know?"

She looked baffled, "What? What's...?"

"Wrong? Oh, come now, either you think I am really that lost and new or that's really all you know. Either way, it's not going to do either of us any good." I sighed again, "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so rude, but it's been a long day, I've been riding subways and buses all over, and I really like to be heading back..."

Her grip on me got tighter, angrier, "What was that? What are you implying?" Her lips were drawing into a thin, straight line.

I widened my eyes a bit, "Oh, dear, I've upset you..."

"Yeah. So, you're too good for those places, eh?" She snatched the list I had just written out of my hand. "Mr. High-Roller here, all ready to head out into the art world, but can't name any terms, can't describe anything..."

"I prefer Mr. Nakai, miss, and no, I can't name one term or name off the top of my head, but where I fail at one thing I make up for in another. I'm a very thorough researcher, and even though I don't get your terms, I've been looking for people that could explain them to me."

She clicked her teeth together and narrowed her eyes. Then, with a "Hmph," she scribbled a name or two on the list before handing it back. She then turned on her heel and started to walk off. I had what I needed, but that's when I suddenly decided to go off script.

I hurried up to her retreating back, "Hey, wait a second."

She raised a hand and waved me away, without breaking pace, "Oh, piss off. You wanna dive head-first into the sea? Then be my guest..." Her clicking high-heels echoed sharply and painfully, taking jabs at my ear-drums.

I put a hand on her shoulder, and she stopped to turn and give me a look. Suddenly, I felt that I was making a mistake, but another part of me just couldn't let her walk off like that. She had seemed so relaxed, and I had lured her into that then shattered it, probably ruining the rest of her day, and it had only just turned noon, too. Nope, that was wrong; I caught a quick glance at my watch and saw that it was closer to two o' clock. I had spent hours in that place. The sudden realization made me bite my lip, and the next realization that I was just standing there with a hand on her without saying a word had me almost chew it off and swallow it. "Um, look, I'm... I'm sorry."

"Uh-huh." She didn't look impressed. She must have thought of me as some writer, all right.

"Look, I know I came in here playing it 'too cool for school,' but I've been getting slapped around all day, and... and I acted like a little kid when I didn't get what I wanted. That was stupid. No matter what, I didn't have the right to do that to you."

She rolled her eyes, "It's not that big of a deal."

I gulped. She was right, of course, but she didn't know the stakes that I was risking by trying to be a nice guy. I should have just left her feeling sour; trying to make up for it was suspicious and a sign of weakness, and plus, she was definitely going to remember my face. If enough people were able to recognize and remember me, word could get out. Rin might find out I was looking for her, and something told me that wasn't a good thing. For one of the very few times in my life, I was glad I had my condition, because if I ever actually tried to be a secret agent, I would have spent about a hundred years in a P.O.W camp. I tried my best to keep from stammering, "Yeah, well, no, I mean, you... you were the first decent person to me all day, and I treated you like crap." I held out my hand, she took it, and we shook them. "I really am sorry. And thank you, you were very helpful."

She sighed, then looked me up and down, studying me. Her eyes peeked at me over the edges of her sharp glasses, "But you still plan on skinny dipping in shark infested waters, huh?"

"My mother always told her friends about how I touched the stove the second time."

She broke into a smile and shook her head, releasing our hands. "Look, I'm not going to stop you, but... ugh, here." She wrote down a few more names for me, then reached into her jacket and pulled out a card, handing it to me. "I don't know why I'm doing this, but... just in case you need some help."

There was no way I was going to do that. She would never have anything to do with me and my current problems. But... but I still smiled and stuck it in my pocket. "Yeah. Heh, I really look that hopeless, huh?"

"Just about."

"Hmm." I turned to walk away, "Well, thanks," I pulled out and glanced at the card, "Misaki."

"Later, Nakai."

Once I was back in the thick of the mid-afternoon Tokyo smog, I jumped on a bus and kept on trucking, hitting all the places on Katagiri's, and only Katagiri's, list in order. I didn't really get very far: I asked about Tezuka, asked about her work, her early work, her current work, where she lived, and on, and on. I must have looked like a very competent, professional, and well-mannered stalker. I didn't even bother with a decent lunch, I just scavenged what I could out of a vending machine and ate it while walking down a side-street. And despite my frantic traveling all over town, like I said, I barely learned a damn thing. Next to no one knew anything about Tezuka's origins, or her "Nameless" works; it looked like she only just started to name her works around three years ago. A lot of those "Nameless" ones were never housed in a gallery, but a few were sold. And most of them were the ones she painted during and right after Yamaku. There was far more interest in her work after what they called the "Sky" period. No one knew a thing about her, though. Only a few people mentioned the fact that she had no arms, and it got to the point where I actually had to wonder if many people even knew about her disability. The way she was portrayed was that she was like a sort of phantom, someone who had emerged from nowhere, and started to paint and show off rather impressive and envied works. People knew the name, but not the person. It was dizzying how little they knew about someone they thought they knew so much about. I trudged back into my hotel room when the sun started to get low, and the instant I sat down, the telephone rang.

"Itoshki Counseling," I said into the receiver.

"So, I take it things didn't go so well," Katagiri spat back.

"What makes you say that?"

"I haven't known you for very long, Nakai, but you tend to get snippy when things don't go your way." I didn't have a reply, so Katagiri filled the void, "Anyway, it's getting rather late, so I was making sure that you would be coming out tonight."

"I was so touched when you asked me out before, Katagiri, that I wouldn't even dream of standing you up. Plus, why are you calling me here and not on my cell?"

"Are you kidding me? I've been trying to reach you for hours!"

I pulled out my phone and saw that it had died. "So much for technology," I muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. So what time, and what place?"