It was under a façade of confidence that we strode into that restaurant - the refrain painted in the other's walks was all too readable.

I turned the corner of the pillar separating our group from theirs, it's edge giving way to my eyes as my eyes met Lizzie's. I instantly brought a finger up to my lips, signalling her to be quiet. She flicked her eyes back to Zak and Isaac, who were facing her and... Owen, sitting next to her. What a pleasant surprise.

Thanks to Lizzie's top tier acting, Owen didn't suspect a thing - despite a group of boys quietly approaching his table with blank faces masking devious intentions.

I picked up the pace to which the other's didn't respond to, as I walked up behind Zak and Isaac and flicked them both hard, in the backs of each of their heads.

Owen didn't even have time to lift his head fully as the two I'd just assaulted snapped their heads around to look me dead in the eyes.

I swear I could hear cogs turning in their heads as their eyes focused on mine - until Zak opened up with:

'You're a dick, you know that?'

Owen followed next. '3 years in what's meant to be a more disciplined country, and you're still a retard.' After a pause, he added: 'Good afternoon to you too.'

I ignored his salty greeting and after dragging a restless glance over everyone, I greeted them.

'How's it goin'?' I smiled at them. Fuck me, I should have written a script beforehand.

I received warm greetings from everyone despite my bold entrance. My fears of being an outsider to my old friend group evaporated in an instant. Though when I quickly ran out of 'Fine's and 'You look like shit too's to spout, I looked back only to... not see my friends. I spotted them in a queue for food, waiting for their orders, tickets earnestly in hand.

Were they shy or hungry or stupid?

All three, I thought, as I suggested to the others that we move to a bigger booth. I didn't bother with getting food, I could always swipe some off Jiro once he'd sat down. He'd be too coy to respond like I'd usually expect him to.

We relocated to another booth - I sat next to Zak, facing Isaac, Owen and Lizzie. Someone'd have to sit next to Lizzie, perfect.

'Not getting any food, Jess?' asked Isaac. He offered me some fries, to which I declined. I hadn't had breakfast and having a late one - a greasy one at that - would make me feel ill. Of course, these symptoms would miraculously subside once Jiro had sat down. And they did.

He, by some divine intervention, had found himself in a situation where his options where to sit on the sticky floor, or sit next to Lizzie. I saw his face clearly leaning towards the prior option, before forcing himself to sit next to a girl he didn't even know. He blinked at us all before looking down at his food.

'Hello.'

He started eating, as I did laughing. It was the hardest I'd set off in a while, even slamming the table myself and covering my mouth, wheezing. Even Jiro looked up.

After I'd calmed down, Ryo and Touji introduced themselves to the others, insisting on handshakes and generally using over-the-top politeness. Now I knew what I was like when I'd first met the guys. After that, Jiro managed to introduce himself as well, even managing to insult me in the process. Little did he know that 'stupid' was the nicest thing you could hear from strangers in the streets of England. To retaliate, I smiled sweetly at Lizzie, and asked her to 'borrow' me a piece of chicken from Jiro's tray, to which she obliged without protest nor hesitation.

'Thanks,' I took it from her whilst smirking at Jiro. He looked thunderstruck. If this was any other day at any other place I'd be receiving a dig in the sides, but to do that to me now, let alone a girl he barely knew? His struggling face made me laugh.

They talked whilst they ate. It was a pleasant surprise when both groups discovered each other's music tastes, even managing to find some bands in common - only because I'd introduced my Japanese friends to the western side of metal. As expected, once they broke the ice between them, it was as if both groups had been friends for years. They talked no differently as they would around me, joked and threw both fries and light insults around. Though I noticed both groups stuck to each other when exchanging witticisms. Of course, I was the only link between the two.

Even Jiro managed to give his opinions on whatever we were talking about, between mouthfuls. The food soon ran out but the conversation thrived. I only sat back and watched people meander around outside under the falling sun - of course, it was winter, so the days'd be shorter, but still, how long had we stayed?

I think that was the magic of that moment. No one had a need to open their phones or check anything, the back and forth never became stale.

I suddenly reminisced back to that day I'd seriously started to consider coming here. I wondered what I'd say - what the me of the past would say - if I could tell myself - him - what was going on right now - in a few months.

I remembered only leaning back and savouring the atmosphere on that day, as I still was in that grubby little fast-food joint. It really went to show that if the people you're with are good enough company, they can negate whatever's off-putting about wherever you are. Good company's the cure for anything.

We eventually stepped outside, once we'd remembered that we had somewhere else to be. Although that place was still unbeknownst to us. As we stood outside the restaurant zipping coats and putting on gloves, I stood and watched what was left of the sun slowly hide behind the department shop in front of me, wrapped in my grey trench coat - a sentimental piece I'd brought from Britain from when it reached my toes, and now only grazed my knees. My old friends were delighted to see its appearance. I was glad to be growing into it, it helped me distinguish myself amongst Japanese crowds.

It was thick as well, and could probably thaw a glacier out in minutes.

I warmed up soon enough as we set off. They still wouldn't tell us where we were going, so as we walked through the city centre my friends kept on amusing themselves by translating anything they could - as they had quickly taken up doing the day before. Except for now, they only pestered Zak and Isaac, who were walking behind me, Owen and Lizzie.

'So what's been happening whilst I've been gone?' I asked, my eyes flicking between my shoes and Lizzie, who stood to my left.

'Well... GCSE year, innit? I expect you'll have some end of years, too?' Owen replied.

I stole a glance to my left before smiling and replying myself. 'Yeah, I do, but that's not what I'm getting at.' I exhaled. 'Have you not asked Lizzie out yet?'

I didn't have to see their faces to tell that Owen had not only stopped for a second, but was also glaring at me with the fury of the falling sun.

I could make out Lizzie's smirk by her small giggle.

'He's getting there.'

We walked in silence - I remained happy as we did, the episode before entering the restaurant having become temporarily nonexistent.

Eventually, after straying away from the crowded city centre and turning a few corners on streets still laden with people, we reached our destination. As we waited for the other five to catch up, I tried to make out what we'd reached. It didn't take long for me to decipher the sign displaying that the place was a karaoke bar. Some katakana sprawled beside it, to which I granted Owen's smug request of translating. However, when the other's caught up, I could tell that Ryo had instantly locked onto the kana, pronouncing 'karaoke' as it should be as he read it.

'Well?' Isaac asked, spreading his arms slightly as he did - by that I could tell that he was probably the one who'd booked it.

I let the others spread words of amusement. I'd never been against singing when I was performing with my friends, in our shack, but then? Would I not have had an audience? What if I fucked up, forgot the lyrics to a song I'd chosen, or - God forbid - my voice broke mid-song? Of course, the fact that everyone accompanying me had exactly the same heavy taste in music as I did was some comfort - whatever I'd choose would be a hit, no matter how much I'd fuck it up.

Isaac led the way inside and after some hushed conversation with the woman at the front desk, we were led to a private room - before which we were made aware of a 3 hour time limit, after which we'd be dragged off to our second surprise location.

The first thing I noticed after entering the dark room, furnished with red sofas surrounding a small table and facing a TV hanging over a platform, were the minifridges to the sides of said sofas. Only waters, sparkling and still, resided on their lower shelves as the upper ones lay barren. As Zak saw me looking at them, he pointed at Isaac whilst looking at me, and told me: 'Seeing as we - Isaac - were booking only a few days in advance, we had to chip in for extra, seeing as we were a bunch of kids and they'd have to take all the alcohol out. So sit down and enjoy an ice cold... water.'

So I helped myself, as did most of us. We sat around the small table, each group divided by the sofas that they sat on.

We soon got to talking as we did in the restaurant, forgetting what we were here for. Every so often I'd see someone glance at the stage blankly before returning to conversation, as I was doing as well. I sure as fuck wasn't going to go on, especially first. Whoever went first would have a hell of a time riling the others up to be as falsely enthusiastic as I'm sure they'd have to act to be.

That person turned out to be Lizzie, after failing to convince any of us to do it. She grinned at us and walked up to the small stage, after calling us all 'pussies' - and my hasty explanation of what that term friend to my friends in the dark - in this context at least. She chose a song from the console on the stage, which would presumably both display lyrics to her and beam 'em up to the TV hanging above her.

As she did it, I wondered what she'd kind of song she'd choose. As we all were, she was a metalhead, but unlike us guys, she didn't exactly have the voice for it. This didn't stop me from rooting for her though, I knew it'd still be epic.

Until the music started. A moderate, minor instrumental strummed out on a virtual acoustic guitar which shut all us guys up resonated throughout the room, before eventually giving way to Lizzie's vocals. I unknowingly tapped my foot along to the 3/4 rhythm, a subtle reminder of the first time I heard what was to become FreakWave play.

Lizzie's voice rose into the chorus, serving as a reminder that what she was singing along to an unfamiliar genre, though not something anyone disliked. A second chorus eventually broke into a guitar solo, in which I felt Lizzie's awkwardness. Of course, with nothing to perform, yet having an entire audience training their eyes on her, she could do nothing more than glance at us occasionally and mutter sarcastic remarks to herself as she bobbed her head to the song's unusual rhythm. She seemed to count herself in before singing the final, quieter chorus, before the instrumental faded into silence.

Owen was the first to break it with applause, to which we all followed suit. She smiled and walked back to us.

'Who's next?'

Fingers began to be pointed both intra and interspecifically, with smug motivations being thrown around like paper aeroplanes.

Eventually Ryo stood up, and satisfied our group's carnal desire for metal swiftly. Not that Lizzie's song was bad, it was just different. In a pleasant way, that is.

Soon Ryo's bravery was rewarded with the same of others, confidence brewed in each of us as we saw our comrades receive glorious praise from theirs.

Eyes eventually began to rest on me.

'Not gonna go up? You're not one to pass up an opportunity to show off,' said Zak to me, leaning back.

I still swallowed fruitlessly, even though I knew my absence from the stage wouldn't go unnoticed... eventually. 'I've never been one to sing in front of an audience. I think I'll pass this time...'

'Really? You've flown from the other side of the world to meet us yet you won't just grant us a little sing-song? Seems a little bit of a waste to me...' Isaac replied.

'I'd rather skin myself head down than fly from the other side of the world just to meet you idiots,' I replied quickly. My dim-witted sarcasm was only a device to stretch what little time I had left before I was practically choke-slammed onto stage in order to choose a song to perform. Screaming my lungs out like I usually did sounded too embarrassing, rapping meant acting cool and I wasn't about to do that in front of these piranhas, and performing anything like Lizzie did would mean an unlimited stock of voice cracks for my unforgiving audience to poke fun at, so what the fuck was I meant to choose?!

'Get a move on, don't keep us waiting. We're nearly out of time here,' Touji said monotonously, checking his silver wristwatch as he did.

I slowly stood up to greet rising cheers from my friends. I paid them no attention as I walked towards the stage, my eyes trained on the console centre stage. My other senses seemed to have been blocked out by anxiety, only a sweat in my hands registered, despite them suddenly feeling a lot colder than they did when I was sat down... having fun.

Reaching the stage, I flicked through the console. Popular British bands popped up as recommended, this thing clearly was made to allure to tourists. Radiohead were marked as recently played, probably by Lizzie. Not a band I disliked, just one I'd never had interest in listening to. After that performance though, I was more than convinced to.

So I chose and I performed.

And walked offstage promptly after finishing, nearly bringing the microphone with me due to nerves.

Truth be told, I don't remember what I performed. Making the decision and playing it seemed as if it was done by a version of me on autopilot and coming offstage, I expected applause, but the slightly surprised expressions on my friends' faces were all too readable.

I sat down, asking 'Well?' to no one in particular as I did. Out of a lack of nothing better to do, I took a sip of water. It tasted as if it had been collected from the corroded gutters outside, to be honest.

Ryo answered my directionless query. 'That was... unexpected. Really good though, nicely done.'

And that ended the topic of my performance.

No one seemed eager to perform after me, and due to that, we seemed to fall once again into the same conversative state that we had been when we'd first come in here and in the restaurant as well.

And I was in my inattentive one. I felt like if I really strained, really pushed through whatever mental wall was misting it, I could find out for myself how - and what - I'd performed. Sometimes someone would catch me staring through whatever my eyes were resting on at the time and call me a friendly invitation into whatever they were talking about. So I always accepted gladly, and the cycle of me going out of the zone and back continued, until it was time for us to leave our room. Truth be told, as weary as I was, I was still disappointed to have to leave. Standing up took a lot of energy, and judging by the groaning of the others, I wasn't alone in that feeling.

The corridor leading to the reception seemed a lot longer than last time.

We wasted no time in walking through the city to our second destination. It was a fairly lengthy walk which took us out of the city centre and led us meandering down smaller roads to a richer part of town. After a third of an hour of walking, Isaac led us down the front path of a large detached house, and promptly unlocked the door, letting us all in before him in a mock gentleman display.

The Britons and I chuckled as the others quickly took their shoes off at the prospect of being invited to what I was then sure was Isaac's home. Of course, in my own household, we practiced the same, but I knew it was only a matter of time until the others experienced this kind of culture shock towards England's sometimes informal customs.

Isaac, still experiencing the remnants of a giggle, pointed at their feet and said, 'I wouldn't do that if I were you, unless you want to go around with grubby feet.'

Although the marble floors looked shiny enough. This was the closest thing to a palace I'd ever been invited into.

They confusedly and slowly put their shoes back on, and sheepishly stepped further into the house.

Isaac led us into a glorified garage after we declined his offer for drinks, once we'd learned that we wouldn't be here for longer than ten minutes, give or take 'tuning time', which I had a pretty clear idea of what it meant.

We were introduced to a less blinding part of the house - tools hung on wooden walls, and in the centre of it all, a drum set and keyboard with a microphone accompanying it stood. A maroon bass and a bright red guitar hung on the wall to their left. It was strangely reminiscent of our shack.

Isaac turned to me.

'We'll... grant you a quick performance, and then you can go to your dinner. A quick goodbye gift from us, if you will.'

We watched as Owen grabbed the bass - he must have picked it up after I'd left - and Zak the remaining guitar and indeed began to tune. Isaac sat down behind the black drum set and Lizzie the keyboard. I and the rest watched on the ass-end of the garage, now sure of what we were here for.

Once the whines of the guitars' tuning subsided, Isaac counted them in with the beats of his drumsticks, and they launched into song. Whilst it wasn't particularly metal-ish, I'd still class it as rock, on the heavier side, what with

Zak's rapid strumming and Owen's quick jumps between octaves. Zak had assured me beforehand that this composition was all-original.

Eventually Lizzie jumped in in what I assumed to be a verse, her keyboard substituting for the lack of vocals.

But what really captivated me was the chorus. A constant galloping rhythm set by Zach and Owen was complemented beautifully by a syncopated drum line, whilst Lizzie played a minor chord sequence, one which ended in a satisfying yet drawn out resolution. I stood trapped in their splendour; they seemed to draw in the light from the lamp as they shone themselves.

As the song progressed into a complicated solo and its inevitable ending, I really felt the synergy between band members. Not one beat was off, every accented note stood out and built wonderful tension towards the strangely dissonant ending, which resolved itself after the musicians let their notes ring, which was an incredibly satisfying ending to an already captivating song. It felt like these guys had been playing for many years together, although I supposed they probably had. It made me feel uninvited melancholy from what I missed out on, contrasting the uplifting song in a way I'm sure it wasn't meant to.

I clapped first and finished last. I clapped the hardest amongst the others whilst the performers stood awkwardly and unloaded their instruments.

As we walked back out to the front corridor, many congratulations were given, repeatedly. It seemed the others had enjoyed the song just as much as I had. Owen suggested that we could maybe repay them by performing for them one day, to which we eagerly agreed to. Forgotten, flimsy plans threw themselves about as we all drew near the door and got ready to leave.

As we stepped out into the now icy night, weak discussion struck up once again as we once again suited up to battle the cold. It was clear, however, that our reunion was ending. My dad had arranged for us to meet him for dinner somewhere in the city, whilst my British mates - except Isaac, of course - had a train to catch soon to avoid walking even further out of the city in that sort of cold.

Soon we were all done getting dressed, so we said our goodbyes. I stood back, enjoying fresh air as I had never before as I let the others exchange handshakes and sad smiles simultaneously. Eventually my old friends crowded around me in silence.

'So... how'd ya like it?' Isaac asked.

'It was really good, I fucking mean it. Thanks guys, really.' I said, not a single note of deceit in my voice nor my truth.

'When're you coming back?' asked Lizzie.

I tilted my head. 'Miss me already? Give it a few years.'

I had barely stopped talking before she stepped forward and hugged me. The others, in turn, did the same after. We broke groups and walked our separate paths - Isaac back inside his home - once I had exchanged 'heartfelt' goodbyes with him and Owen as well.

As we walked to the restaurant my dad was already at, the numbing darkness seemed to warm up just a bit, which accompanied me through a cheerful dinner and lulled me to sleep after, smiling all the way.

...

The next day we woke up late once again, though this time we were in no rush. It was nice to stumble around the room carelessly, it felt as if this was our own place - it gave me a strange feeling of independence, which I liked. After a comfortably late breakfast, my dad took us - in the rental car - to a military museum a few hours away. Once there, it appealed infinitely more than the pitch my dad delivered to us over dinner the last night. The place had an abundance of old WW2 era vehicles - tanks, planes, missile trucks, everything. The fact that it was had turned Monday was even better, the place was practically deserted, we were free to run around as we pleased. I even got to impress the others with my knowledge of the Second World War, about which they knew surprisingly little - my dad, in his free time, was an enthusiast for this kinda shit, we had books upon books on vehicles and events and whatnot at home.

We examined hangars of jets made to pose theatrically vertical as if they were taking off within the bunker, and Ryo got us to take a shit ton of photos. We stayed practically the entire day and got back for dinner, where Jiro was ecstatic that we'd call a takeaway to our room instead of eating out.

All in all, a good day.

On the next day - the last day - we were to wake up bright and early according to my dad - we were going on a hike. Jiro's demeanour dropped as he exclaimed about how a hike wouldn't have been 'holiday material', albeit not to my dad's face. Again, although much earlier on in the day, we were whisked away in our small rental car to some mountain in Wales we'd be scaling.

I didn't expect the way up to be so relaxing, though. A gentle gradient, a smooth gravelly path with trees surrounding it and my friends around me let that trip be enjoyable, we got to talk all the way up without panting our lungs out, and they got to know my dad a little better.

As we neared the summit, I looked upon the neighbouring mountain, carpeted with green with a small road twisting up it, and the occasional stubborn car climbing it as I watched. Each tree was indistinguishable from the next, which was weird. From my viewpoint, these massive pines were easy to differentiate from one another - how could something so big be so small in something so much bigger than it originally had been? I confused myself even thinking about it, until I realised it was easier just to walk and look forward to a lunch at the top.

And a lunch at the top we did have, picking out a couple boulders facing each other to eat on. We each emptied our bags, which my dad had loaded with packed lunches the night before. We spent an hour at the top basking in the glorious, refreshing cold before descending.

As we descended down the same path, I couldn't help but feeling down. Perhaps it was the silence of the others, but at the time, it felt as if it was the fact that soon this experience would be over, only a memory in which the brightest moments would be remembered. All this effort, only for a good few laughs in some year's time. The feeling was basically the same you get on rainy Sunday afternoons, y'know? You'd be back at school the next day, and the familiar excitement you'd felt on that Friday felt undeserved due to the fact that you'd basically wasted your weekend sitting inside, staring at your wet windows.

The world kept turning and you'd sat down in defeat from it.

So I couldn't help feeling that from this point on, everything left from this trip was pre-determined, no more unpredictable hilarity left to be had. We'd reach the car park, pack in, get back, maybe have a shower, have dinner, go back, talk a bit, go to sleep, wake up, have breakfast, pack up our shit, get back in the car, get to the airport, clear security, wait for our flight, get on it, wait fifteen hours, get to Hong Kong, wait another few hours, board our second flight, wait even more hours, land, meet our waving families, say goodbye to each other, go home, and then what? Go to bed probably. Get to the next day and have breakfast again as if the day before I wasn't halfway across the world having the time of my life.

The world kept turning and I kept walking, even if it was subconsciously.

So that's what we did. Got back to the hotel. Ate. Went to sleep. Woke back up. Packed. Ate again. Got in the car. Drove. Cleared security. Waited. Got on the flight.

We boarded the flight, my friends looking as dejected as I was, although trying to mask it with offers of snacks and activities.

I put headphones in and as soon as I was able to, lowered both the window and the table in front of me and fell asleep again.

Now that was a weird sleep, if I've ever had one. It felt as if I was always on the brink of waking up, as if there was only a sheet of paper between my consciousness and me. I felt every bump the plane made and the ping of announcements.

I slept through the entire flight, slept in the airport at Hong Kong and slept on the flight back to Nagoya.

Maybe I managed to sleep so much because I hadn't too much last night, or because I didn't want to feel depressed after having nothing to look forward to. Even Christmas would come in several days, but at that point, it just felt like someone announced the arrival of a Thursday.

We arrived back in Nagoya to my waving mum and sister, and the families of my friends too. After they hastily interrogated my dad - 'sleeping enough?','eating enough?' - we indeed did say our goodbyes, vowed to return to this airport together again and went home.

On the way home I could only answer questions from my mother and sister about my trip with an uninvited bitterness - they soon stopped asking and I tried to fall asleep again, to no avail.

Walking back into my own house felt surreal - how could spending 5 nights in another country become so familiar? I noticed cracks I hadn't before in the hallway, some stray leaves that had blown in, perhaps alongside me, into the corridor. Navigating my own home felt newer than it had been when we first moved, somehow.

I lugged my suitcase up to my room before showering, it felt amazing to feel clean after over a day of still travel. Although it was pleasure devoid of happiness.

After that I went down, called for my dinner. We ate and I went back up. On the way up I heard my dad telling my mum that I was tired and how I'd been sleeping all day, and that she could ask me her questions tomorrow.

They knew something was off.

I went back into my room well fed, clean, warm, yet empty. I switched on my computer but could do nothing more than stare at the login screen for a few minutes before switching it back off again.

I said hi to Apollo and played with him for a bit, which vaguely cleared my mind. My sister had taken care of him whilst we'd been gone.

It being dark, and out of a lack of something better to do, I switched the light off and tried to sleep through this new numbness.

I couldn't, unless you count staring at my swirled ceiling as sleeping. I heard my sister soon head off to bed. My mum followed suit soon after, and my dad after a while as well.

I heard snoring and I knew only I was up. Only I knew who I was, the others weren't conscious and therefore unaware because of that. My family, right now, didn't know who I was, or themselves. They simply were, and I longed for that feeling of simplicity. I grew vaguely aware of how hot I was getting under my duvet, despite the cool night around us, so I decided to do something dire.

...

When I was little, sometimes when I couldn't get to sleep, I'd go outside and look at the sky, cloudy or dotted with stars whilst spread-eagled on the grass. I'd go back inside once I felt myself drifting off or getting cold, and after that, I'd have no problem getting to sleep.

I stopped once my mum caught me scampering up the stairs in the dead of night once and scolded me harshly for it, despite my feeble reasoning.

So on that restless night, I put on socks and a coat so being outside wasn't too cruel, and did what I used to love doing all those years ago.

I laid. And I watched. Sometimes I heard the train pass by, often a car.

The world kept spinning and I lay down to enjoy the ride.