The Passengers on the Hankyu Line

Nishinomiya-Kitaguchi Station

The Imazu Line is a commuter railway and so peak hours are – not surprisingly – the morning and evening rush to and from work and school.

In the morning, trains bound for Nishinomiya-Kitaguchi are jam-packed, and then from the afternoon into the evening, the crowded cars are those running in the opposite direction. On weekends, as the time comes for the last train, the throngs can rival those of the weekday morning rush.

That wasn’t the case, though, on a Saturday after the university’s second period had ended. Misa had just crossed over on the upper-level concourse from the Kobe Line platform and come down to the Imazu Line platform, bound for Takarazuka.

Perfect timing – a train had just arrived so there were plenty of seats available. In these circumstances, you opted for the best and most comfortable place to sit. On an empty train, the majority of passengers were likely to select a seat on the end of a row. These choice spots were available in the second car, so Misa settled in. She had been the first, but a steady stream of people continued to file in after her, and the bench seats were now filling in from each end.

Then came a voice.

‘Itoh-san, Itoh-san, over here! There’s still some seats left!’

Shrill and cringe-inducing, the woman calling out belonged to a group of older ladies wearing frilly and flamboyant dresses. Each one – there were four or five of them – was also bedecked in garish jewellery and, it being winter, they had on fake-fur coats in a spectrum of colours. Their handbags were all designer brands, just the kind that female college students pined after.

Itoh-san had apparently still been wandering around in another car, looking for a seat and, upon being summoned so loudly, she arrived looking slightly startled. The lady who had called out was already occupying the seat across from Misa, along with the rest of her group.

Uh-oh, I may regret taking this seat. They seem like trouble …

As Misa was thinking this, a young woman was about to take the seat next to her. She was strikingly attractive, dressed with the sophisticated air of a professional.

But, just as the woman bent to sit down, something unbelievable happened.

‘Hoy!’

The same woman who had shouted for Itoh-san had launched her own handbag onto the seat next to Misa, right before the young woman sat down.

Both Misa and the woman stared in shock at the bag that had been flung onto the seat.

What the hell just happened?!

The older lady’s companions chuckled, murmuring things like ‘You’re too much!’ and ‘Wow, incredible!’ But it didn’t take long to realize that, even amid their laughter and pretend disbelief, they didn’t think anything was wrong with their friend’s behaviour, that it was an inside joke to them.

The designer handbag on the seat next to Misa had been tossed across the aisle in order to prevent the young woman from sitting there first and to save it for Itoh-san.

‘Chop, chop! I bagged a seat for you!’

Itoh-san came scurrying from the carriage ahead. She too wore a frilly dress and carried a designer handbag, though her coat differed from the other ladies’ in that it was a more discreet beige wool.

Misa opened her mouth, incensed enough to say something rude, but the woman from whom the seat had been stolen silenced her with a nonchalant wave of the hand.

‘What a waste of a nice handbag,’ she whispered, even managing a smirk before Itoh-san arrived.

Unable to respond with an appropriately clever comeback, Misa nodded earnestly while the woman walked through to the next car.

Itoh-san seemed a bit quieter, compared to the others. She muttered an apology as she handed the bag back to its owner and settled herself beside Misa.

You got it wrong. The person you ought to apologize to is the young lady who just walked away. Misa’s expression grew stern, so she pulled her textbook from her bag in an effort to take her mind elsewhere.

‘No big deal.’ This, of all things, was the comment that came from the handbag-tosser.

What a hag, Misa could no longer contain herself as she muttered under her breath. Unbelievable. You old ladies are the worst.

She hadn’t spoken loudly enough to reach those across the aisle, but it was likely Itoh-san heard her. Misa was spoiling for a fight. But Itoh-san merely glanced at her sideways, not saying a word.

The gaggle of older ladies seemed to be talking about the lunch they were on their way to, at a restaurant in Takarazuka. No doubt the place was expensive, and they must have been pretty well off to be able to afford such a lavish lunch on a Saturday.

But I bet none of you have ever caught hell for the way you conduct yourself – not like what happened to me with that old man I’d never laid eyes on before.

Misa had been commuting on the train since she was in middle school.

On the way to school, the line she took was packed like sardines so there was never any hope of sitting down, but on the way home, there was sometimes the chance of getting a seat with her friend Mayumi – depending upon the timing.

And by timing, that meant days when she wasn’t on cleaning duty.

On those days, if she could make it to the station to catch the local train, she might just get a seat, but from the next train on, it would be filled with high-school students who had boarded at the previous station, and there would be no chance.

In the beginning, whoever had cleaning duty would just give up hope, but at some point it dawned on Misa and Mayumi (they weren’t sure whose idea it was) that whoever didn’t have cleaning duty could get to the station beforehand and save two seats. Then, the one on duty would run to the station after the cleaning was finished and they’d both be able to sit.

It always came down to the wire for the one on cleaning duty, so they would get seats at the end of the car closest to the ticket gate. The one who got there first would save the desired seat, placing the other’s bag there and sitting up very straight beside it, with one hand on the handles, every so often peering towards the ticket gate to make it obvious that she was waiting for someone.

How cheeky they must have looked. Even now, thinking back on it made Misa wince with shame.

‘Whatcha doin’ there, girlie?’ An old man standing right in front of Misa spoke up all of a sudden.

Not realizing that ‘girlie’ meant her, Misa kept up her show of waiting, still peering at the ticket gate.

‘Girlie, there – you! The one letting yer bag take up a seat.’

Misa realized he was talking to her, so she turned to look at him.

He was a balding old man, small in stature, but he gazed down at her with a forbidding look.

Wait, what? This old dude’s talking to me? What’s he on about?

The reflexive hostility unique to a person her age was easily quashed by his angry and unwavering glare.

‘What makes you think you can take up someone else’s seat when it’s crowded like this?’

‘Uh, um, this is my friend’s bag, she’ll be here any minute.’

‘That’s your excuse?! All these good people got on the train before your friend there, but because you so shamelessly saved her a seat, she can just show up and sit down?! You don’t see anything wrong with that?!’

How awkward – with you shouting so loud like that, everybody will be looking! It’s embarrassing! Misa cowered as she glanced around.

The eyes that she had expected to be directed towards the disruptive senior citizen were instead staring daggers at her, the one who was still a child.

Though not such a child that these people didn’t feel the same level of frustration with her as did the old man.

She was humiliated. Not because everyone was staring at her but for the reason that had drawn their attention. There were probably other students from her school in the car, maybe there were even some from her very own class.

‘And … my friend, she’ll be tired from doing cleaning duty,’ Misa offered feebly. She knew enough to feel embarrassed for using this as justification, but she couldn’t help herself.

‘In that case ya oughta give her yer seat then! That’s no excuse!’ Sure enough, he shut her down.

The fact that no one intervened served to put her in her place. And illustrated how presumptuous and cheeky everyone else found her and Mayumi’s ‘brilliant idea’ that they’d been putting into practice all this time.

‘Sorry to keep you waiting! Thanks for saving my seat!’

Mayumi boarded the train, oblivious to the peculiar atmosphere in the car. The elderly man turned and directed a piercing look at Mayumi.

‘So yer the friend?’

Confused, Mayumi inched towards Misa. ‘Hey, is this geezer bothering you?’

She may have meant to whisper this to Misa but it came out in her natural voice, loud enough for all to hear.

‘Y’all’ve been up to this all along, haven’tcha?!’ His bellow roared like thunder. ‘On a crowded train where everyone wants to sit down, but the pair of you think it’s OK to let your bag save a seat for each other – who taught ya that?!’

Mayumi pouted. Hey, you old geezer … what the hell? Just as she was about to give it right back to him, he cut her off.

‘Damn kids, what school do you go to? Tell me!’

He’s going to report us to school!?

Misa leapt to her feet. ‘We’re getting off.’ She thrust Mayumi’s bag at her and bowed her head at the old man. ‘Excuse us. We won’t ever do it again.’ Her tone was terse but apologetic.

By now Mayumi seemed to have registered everyone’s disapproval of them. She followed Misa and bowed her head sulkily.

They fled the carriage and sat on a bench on the platform. The bell rang, signalling the train’s departure, and the train pulled out of the station.

The seats that Misa had been saving remained empty, even after the train had left.

‘For sure that old guy’s gonna take the seat, once he’s outta sight,’ Mayumi said, kicking the concrete. ‘He just wanted to sit there himself, that’s why he had a go at you, for sure.’

Both of them must have known that wasn’t the case.

Y’all’ve been up to this all along, haven’tcha?!

They had been doing this, two or three times a week. How many passengers on those trains had been offended by their antics?

It was demoralizing.

They’d been called out for what they’d thought was such a brilliant idea. By a stranger and in public, no less. Their behaviour was conspicuous and shameful enough for the old man finally to snap and give them hell for it in front of everyone.

‘He just wanted to sit there himself, for sure,’ Mayumi repeated, still sulking. Misa was sulking too. But they both knew the real reason for their funk.

Were either of them to break rank, they’d burst into tears.

Obviously no one knew Misa’s or Mayumi’s names, but neither of them wanted to imagine how mortifying it would be if, say, there was an announcement during morning assembly that a complaint had been made to the school.

‘Well, I guess we won’t be doing that any more,’ Misa said.

That was the extent of what remorse the two of them were capable of at the time – they didn’t see themselves as being at fault but the old man had kicked up such a fuss that it would stop them from ever doing it again.

The fragility of adolescence prevented them from being able to admit even the slightest error on their part. In a corner of their hearts, they must have felt a shred of guilt, because from that day on, they never rode in the first car of the train again. Nor did they ever use their bag to save a seat on public transport. What’s more, they acted like they had always known that doing so was inappropriate and rude.

Neither ever admitted it was the old man who had made them aware. But nor did they ever forget about it.

All of this explained why Misa found the behaviour of the lady across from her so disgraceful, and why she sympathized with the young woman who had moved on to the next carriage.

What a waste of a nice handbag, the woman had whispered to Misa as she sashayed off.

The university Misa attended was mediocre and her grades were nothing to write home about. Back when she’d been studying for her entrance exams, a friend who was a better student had helped her prepare and Misa had passed by the skin of her teeth.

She would probably have to wait until she graduated and got a job in order to afford any one of the designer handbags the older ladies balanced so casually on their knees. And even then, only if she scrimped and saved and used her bonus.

For now, Misa took small pride in the fact that she would never act in such a way that she would be lumped in with the likes of the bag-tosser.

Come to think of it, I owe a certain debt of gratitude to strangers.

She shuddered to recall, but that had also been the case with her ex-boyfriend Katsuya, whom she’d finally broken up with six months ago.

‘That good-for-nothing. Have you thought about getting rid of him? For all he puts you through.’

On that day, they’d been on their way to look for a place to move in together, but he’d got into a huff about something trivial, and when she’d tried to apologize and smooth things over (even though now, she still didn’t think she’d been in the wrong), he’d shaken her off and gone to the racetrack. He’d brushed her off with such force that she’d almost fallen over, and yet Katsuya hadn’t even turned round, he’d just headed straight for the ticket gate.

She’d been sick and tired of it.

She’d become so used to being treated like that all the time, she’d stopped feeling sad about it.

Disappointment. Despair. Futility.

The elderly lady who just happened to be on the train had gently pointed out to Misa that those things were all that was left in her relationship with Katsuya.

She’d been right. He was a good-for-nothing, wasn’t he? Misa had finally come to her senses and been able to admit it.

He’d started an argument with her over something trivial. That sort of thing used to happen all the time.

But despite his irritability and aggressive threats, kicking the train door in public was not typical behaviour. Definitely not.

And although she had grown accustomed to his moodiness, she had no longer questioned him about it. That would have only stoked his anger.

But when people looked disapprovingly at Katsuya, she too became the object of their reproachful glances.

He was a good-for-nothing.

Dodged that one, she sighed to herself with relief.

But even their breakup had been filled with drama. He’d stalked her at home repeatedly. Had he been the one to break up with Misa, things might have been fine, but apparently Katsuya couldn’t stand the idea that he’d been the one who got dumped (and by the likes of Misa, no less).

He’d show up late at night, ranting and raving at her front door, and Misa, concerned about her neighbours, would allow him in. And then he would hit her.

She would take the bare necessities with her and crash with various friends, avoiding her own apartment for days on end. This must have gone on for almost six months.

She hadn’t wanted her family to find out what she was dealing with. She already lived on her own and hadn’t wanted to cause them any more worry.

She’d even tried going to the police, but the male officer hadn’t shown much concern. Misa had gone to the station on her way home from university, but when she gave him her address, the officer had brushed her off, saying she was under another precinct’s jurisdiction.

He’d also told her there was nothing they could do without evidence. When she asked what kind of evidence, he’d said she needed a certificate from a doctor or something like that. Of course she hadn’t had the wherewithal to go to the hospital for a medical report every time Katsuya had hit her.

She had, in fact, taken photos of the aftermath with her mobile phone, but Katsuya had found them and deleted them all – and hit her once more. ‘Do that again and next time’ll be even worse.’

Misa had thought she could take care of this herself, but in the end she turned to Mayumi’s older brother for help. A strapping varsity guy, he was vice-captain of his university’s karate team and Misa had known him forever.

‘Misa-chan is my beloved little sister’s best friend.’

Katsuya had been summoned to a café in Umeda where the four of them were sitting – Mayumi’s brother Kengo, Mayumi and Misa – with Katsuya basically cornered.

Misa sat the furthest from Katsuya, and Mayumi took it upon herself to glare at him scathingly. Kengo sat directly opposite Katsuya, projecting a calm, fierce smile.

‘She’s also like a sister to me. So I don’t want you giving her a hard time – you get me?’

Katsuya was the type of guy who only picked on someone smaller than himself, so he was cowed by Kengo from the first move.

‘I … I wasn’t trying to give her a hard time … she’s my girlfriend and, this is just another one of our fights.’

‘Misa-chan already told you she wants to break up with you. Isn’t that right, Misa-chan?’

Misa nodded. ‘I want to break up. I’m done with him hitting me. And with him shouting and yelling in front of my apartment.’

Kengo’s arms had been crossed on the table, and he seemed to suddenly swell up even more in size. Katsuya, sensing how Kengo was filling with rage, trembled visibly.

‘So you’ll leave her alone, right?’ Kengo’s tone made it clear that this wasn’t a request. ‘If you have any objections, come see me on campus anytime. Stop by the karate dojo and ask for the vice-captain. Or I can give you my mobile number, if you like.’

Katsuya shook his head, looking panicked.

‘Well then, as proof that you’re now broken up, why don’t you delete Misa-chan from your phone contacts right here and now? You do the same, Misa-chan.’

‘Actually,’ Mayumi piped up, ‘it’s better for Misa to block his calls from her phone. Nowadays nobody remembers what anyone’s actual number is, so if he were to call her, she might accidentally answer, without realizing it’s him.’

‘If anything like that were to happen, I’d be there right away. But if it makes you feel safer, Misa …’

Katsuya, rendered practically speechless, proceeded to delete Misa’s contact from his phone.

After they’d sent Katsuya on his way, Mayumi turned to Misa with a savage look. ‘How could you let things get to this point without saying anything?!’

‘I’m so sorry! I didn’t want you to worry, and you still live at home … I was afraid my parents might find out about it. And to ask you to come – well, it’s far away and so much trouble …’

‘It’s only Sayama! Anyway, it wouldn’t matter how far, I’d come from anywhere! And don’t forget that the giant demon god Daimajin lives in Osaka – you could’ve used him to ward off that jerk!’

‘Hey, are you calling your beloved older brother a giant demon god? That’s gonna cost you.’

Mayumi blew a raspberry at her brother as she covered her forehead and swivelled away from him. ‘Don’t overreact – does that really merit a forehead flick?’

‘It’s not as if my forehead flicks are lethal – get real!’

Misa was an only child and had always been jealous of their big brother–little sister fights. It had been a long time since she’d seen these two together, and the sight of them at it again made her well up with laughter.

And then with tears.

‘I really have to thank you both so much for today. This has been such a mess, I don’t know what I’d have done without your help.’

Mayumi put her arm around her friend’s shoulders. Her brother sipped his lukewarm tea with an uneasy expression.

Ever since then, Katsuya had abruptly stopped stalking Misa. That had been only a month ago.

Misa’s phone was on silent mode but she saw that she had a message. It was from Mayumi.

Kengo has been worrying about you lately and wants to know if you’re OK. Give him a call if you feel like it.

There was another text:

Don’t tell him I told you but last time he was home he said, Misa-chan’s got really pretty. He may be a Daimajin but he would never hit a woman, he’s the real deal. And all he ever does is karate so he doesn’t have a girlfriend, you could snatch him up.

I’ve got really pretty?

When Misa imagined Kengo saying those words, in the same calm and confident voice that he had used with Katsuya, her heart skipped a beat.

But Misa couldn’t bring herself to be the one to reach out, not having seen him for so long and then enlisting him to deal with the aftermath of her drama.

Then again – Kengo had got pretty cute himself.

He was a solid guy, relaxed and easy to talk to – nothing like that loser Katsuya.

Misa certainly wasn’t going to do as Mayumi suggested and throw herself shamelessly at Kengo, but she could probably get away with sending him a little present as a token of gratitude for his help. Then maybe they could get together for tea or something?

And she did have his mobile number – when all that business was happening, he’d given it to her ‘just in case’.

Before putting her phone away, Misa tapped out a response to Mayumi.

Thanks. I’ll call him soon. Don’t say anything to him though, it’s embarrassing.

‘That good-for-nothing. Have you thought about getting rid of him? For all he puts you through.’

—Yes, even breaking up with him put me through a lot. But I stayed true to myself and I’m glad I did it. Thank you, ma’am.

That’s what she’d say, if she ever crossed paths again with that nice old lady.

And if she were to see that geezer who had scolded her when she was in junior high, she might even thank him too.

Oh, and Et-chan’s gang as well, with their giddy girl-talk that she’d eavesdropped on. Even just thinking about them made Misa smile. She wondered how their studies for the entrance exams were coming along.

Misa made a wish that they’d all pass their exams with flying colours.

Thinking about these things made her forget all about those women with their designer handbags.