"Middle school?" Makiko's sister, Sophia, was almost that age. The idea of it - Rob's mind blanked. "Apologies don't matter."

Fumiko stared at him, elbows pressed against her sides, her face as pale as the wall panels partitioning them off from other cubicles in the manga cafe. "Naoko forgave him," she said. "He's nice now, really nice. It doesn't mean the things you heard are true."

Nobu was in his twenties when Naoko was in middle school. An internet search might dig up something else on him. Rob pressed a button on the computer's keyboard. The screen lit up, but no useful search words came to mind.

Fumiko squeezed his knee. "What are you going to do about Nobu?"

"Stalk him tonight and see what I find out."

"I'll go too."

She knew Shibuya and could predict Nobu's whereabouts, but he had reservations. What if she wanted to protect Nobu? "Okay..."

Her hand stayed on his knee. He pressed his hand over hers, filling the snug grooves between her fingers with his. She leaned into him, and their lips touched. He pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. He wanted her by his side, because she was sexy and smart, but he also wanted her by his side in case her loyalties were skewed. Many people were capable of duplicitous thoughts during a wonderful kiss. If they were together, he could prevent her from making phone calls until after he found Nobu.

When the kiss waned, he grew conscious of her solid warmth in his arms. She did not break free, so he kept his mouth on hers until she rested her head against his chest. Her silky black hair tickled his nose. She nuzzled him for a long moment before rolling her chair away and looking at him with a mischievous grin. She swung the coffee to her lips. After emptying the cup, she clacked the saucer with it. "I have ideas about where to start."

"I'm listening."

"Just make sure I don't get hurt."

"Of course. I'm very old fashioned."

"I've seen Nobu fight, and he's tough," she said.

"Who did he fight?"

"Some jerk who bothered Naoko and me."

"What did Nobu do?"

"Shut the guy up. Knocked him down, bloodied him up, before we could even scream. Later, he said he was tired and should have controlled himself."

"If Nobu sees us and you get a bad feeling, run."

"We'll pretend we're on a date." She leaned over and pecked his cheek. He put his arms around her. Their lips slid together again. The kiss grew hungrier and hungrier.

Afterwards, her face hovered near his, and he breathed in her lovely scent. It distracted him from Nobu. Maybe that was on purpose...

***

Rob and Fumiko left the manga cafe and followed a crowded pedestrian path behind tall buildings. Retailers on the lower floors catered to youth culture: hip clothing, lifestyle consumer electronics, music, fast food. Though exhausted-looking company employees in suits walked the same route, the river of color surrounding them came from young people, between maybe fifteen and twenty-five. The gaudy fashions of a quarter of the women probably originated in the sex trade of other eras: knee-high boots, mini skirts, exposed bellies, G-strings, heels, sparkles, maids costumes, high school uniforms, dangling bracelets and thick makeup.

Bright lights, brash noise, and consumerism had already banished whatever spirits habituated Shibuya in ancient times. The past and perceived tradition enslaved the thinking of millions worldwide, so Rob did not necessarily disapprove, but youth culture's total dominance here, an absolute amnesia about the past, activated a steel rod of conservatism in his core, much to his surprise.

And his paranoia and fear of getting jumped by Nobu skyrocketed.

Ahead, the street split two ways around a massive building. They ended up on the shortest route to the main plaza in front of Shibuya station. Crosswalks the width of skyscrapers accommodated commuters. Crowds waiting for a green light blocked the way. Young men in colorful suits and slick orange hair darted among the pedestrians, accosting attractive girls and young women.

"What are they doing?" Rob said.

"Offering work. They're always here."

"What kind of work?"

"Escort services, television, modeling. Easy money for the beautiful."

"Ever see Nobu doing that?"

"No, never."

If Nobu was a pimp, some of those guys might bring him recruits. Unfortunately, asking if they knew a Nobu would raise the alarm. Two bozos in purple suits chased down a young woman in thigh high boots. One blocked her path. The other admired her and chatted her up.

"Did you ever speak to those kinds of guys?" Rob said.

"Naoko did, but Nobu ended it that night."

"He knew the guys she talked to?"

"Because of his social work."

Rob had to deal with Keating the day after tomorrow, because Keating was coming to view his photo exhibition before the official opening. Before that, he wanted to find out how, and if, Nobu fit in. He had to assume Nobu was dangerous. To protect the girls in the photographs, he had to deny the photos even existed.

"Do you want to talk to those guys?" Fumiko said.

"No."

Buildings with tall neon signs and enormous television screens on their outside walls faced Shibuya station. Roads and avenues winded up and down hills from every exit of the station. Rob and Fumiko explored all these tributaries, spying plenty of young women and girls and men in loud suits, but no sign of Nobu. They ended up in a narrow alley. The path steepened and the windowless buildings appeared to host private clubs and even strip bars.

"Do you want to talk to any of the girls?" Fumiko said.

"No."

"Why not? We can pretend you're a filmmaker."

"If we don't mention Nobu by name, we'll learn nothing. If we say his name, they won't admit knowing anything, unless they're stupid."

"What if we give them money?"

"Maybe, if we can get them on neutral ground. They're probably being watched, especially if they're under-age. If we mention Nobu and they're his, we might get ushered into his presence, which is risky, real risky, don't you think?"

Fumiko spotted a few girls. "They look young. Let me talk to them." He followed, but lingered ten feet away. A couple of young men emerged from a dark nook between buildings. One stopped near Rob while the other approached Fumiko.

"Don't touch her," Rob said. He looked around to make sure there were only two young men. He was over a foot taller than the one guarding him. Just before Rob jabbed his nose, the thug near Fumiko pointed down the hill and told her to scram. To Rob's surprise, she sped away quickly. "Let's go," she said, running by.

Rob grinned. Without taking his attention off the men, who gestured threateningly, he descended the narrow path to a better-lit thoroughfare where Fumiko waited for him. "I think we have to call it a night," he said. "When the Gears leave Japan, I'll find someone who can-"

"I have a plan."

"No, we're done." Hopefully, her enthusiasm proved her sympathies weren't with Nobu.

"I work early sometimes and pass Nobu at Shibuya station on his way home. Let's look there tomorrow morning."

"What time?"

"Six."

Rob checked his watch. It was almost midnight. "We could wait it out at the manga cafe."

"I have a better idea." She yanked on his hand.

***

Fumiko brought Rob to another narrow alley on an incline. Neon signs by some doors marked small drinking establishments. Toward the top of the hill, the route grew darker. Niche-market businesses open only during the day, such as dealers selling handmade ceramics, lined parts of the way. In places, stairs replaced the path and the walk resembled a hike in a mountain village.

Only heterosexual couples came down from the heights.

Near the peak, Fumiko stopped in front of a white stucco building. Cast in a purple glow from ground lights, the building had no windows. A bright pink neon tube, twisted into the shape of a heart, adorned the wall.

A love hotel. Fumiko smiled at him. Conditions in cramped Japanese homes often prevented privacy, but this hotel probably catered to affairs and trysts. "If you have the willpower to keep your hands off my naked body, we could stay here," she said. "They rent rooms by the hour or night."

"Naked?"

"It's comfortable to sleep in the nude."

"These places have alarm clocks?" Rob said.

"Of course. You've never been in one?"

"Have you?"

She batted her eyelashes. "No, never." He laughed and opened the door. The reception desk was walled in behind dark Plexiglas. Fumiko talked to the worker through an array of holes at mouth level and passed her own money to him through a semi-circular opening, because she refused Rob's. Afterwards, he followed her to an empty bench behind a screen. Other couples waited nearby, out of sight, breathing softly, fidgeting, and whispering. Having to secure a room did not kill the romance, apparently.

Fumiko wiggled closer to him. Darling legs. Gorgeous backside. Delicious smile. He just hoped he could trust her not to call Nobu. He did not want to wake to a room full of thugs.

***

Early the next morning, Rob's open eyes faced a wall. He rolled over. At the edge of the bed, Fumiko slipped on black panties.

No menacing thugs, no gloating Nobu. Rob stretched his arms above his head and pressed Fumiko's tiny butt with his toe. She reached to the floor and tossed one of his socks. It landed across his forehead. "Good throw," he said, lifting it up. He dangled it over his face before tossing it aside.

"Do you really think Nobu would kill us?" Fumiko said.

Rob sat up and pressed his back against a pile of heart-shaped pillows. "If we spot him, you take off. He doesn't need to know you know."

"What do you want to find out?" she said.

"I need to know his connection to Brian Keating. I want to know why he suggested that I blackmail Keating, and I want to know what Nobu really planned on doing with the money if Keating paid up. I may not ask him directly, but I might."

Fumiko stood up and faced him; the lovely area between her breasts shadowed by artificial light. Mirrors faced each other on the walls, offering glimpses of her body from multiples angles. When she slid a dress over her head, it dropped like night over her radiant flesh. "Fun's over," she said, smiling.

***

A short time later, Rob and Fumiko surveyed one of Shibuya station's broad concourses from a large indoor balcony. Behind them, another concourse opened up onto closed restaurants and a hotel. "I pass him down there sometimes. Around now. He usually comes up that escalator."

Rob gazed over the places she mentioned. Some commuters already dashed through the station's cavernous halls. "If I see him, I'll try to get his attention, then I'll go down there to talk. Could you stand over there, out of sight?"

After Fumiko backed away toward a pillar, Rob leaned on the railing and stared at the escalator. People exiting generally streamed off in one of two directions. Keeping track was easy, but within an hour commuters would blanket the floor and create too much havoc to make sense of. Looking back at Fumiko, he shrugged his shoulders. She put her hand over her eyes as if surveying the landscape. When he glanced over the railing, Nobu appeared at the top of the escalator with his arms hanging like a gunfighter. He looked angry. Hoping to get his attention, Rob slid along the railing toward the stairs and raised his hand. Below, Nobu spun around. Someone had grabbed him. The person hustled him roughly to the side, away from other commuters near the escalator. The disgruntled person wore a dark green cowboy hat. He had Nobu's weightlifter's build and more height. Rob let his hand trail the railing. Before descending further, he stopped to watch more closely. Nobu's head blocked his view of the cowboy's face.

"What's going on?" Fumiko spoke into his ear, then ducked away.

Rob checked that she was completely out of sight. "Nobu's in an argument."

The cowboy wore green boots and had Mark's build. They moved apart enough to see his face, but Rob needed a moment to believe it.

"Are you going down there?" Fumiko said.

Nobu tried to duck and run, but Mark pinned him in. For a split second, Nobu's face contorted, then he faked a laugh.

Rob fumbled for his camera. He did not know what to make of it, but he wanted photographs. He pressed the button at regular intervals as Mark pulled something small from the outside pocket of his Western style shirt. Nobu glanced at it and stiffened.

"Maybe that foreigner is a sailor," Fumiko said. She had crept up again. She crouched down and looked over the railing with him.

Mark broke away and headed to the escalator. Rob grazed Fumiko's arm with his fingertips as he moved away. "Talk to you later."

"At the Mizu Baka concert tomorrow night?"

"Yeah." He spoke over his shoulder.

"What about Nobu?"

"I have to catch that cowboy first." He ran to another set of stairs that led outside the station.

FYI: Mark, the cowboy, appears in LOUD for the first time here. However, Rob met him in Ch. 1 of VINTAGE ROB. They interacted a few times in VINTAGE ROB, but they are not friends.

Rob is surprised to see Mark in Japan. Rob hasn't had time to wonder what Mark and Nobu could be arguing about. Any thoughts about that?

I made up the word "internude" after initially writing "interlude". I hope you enjoyed that.

Spread the love, spread the stars...