Yume, On Location: The Night I Got Let Off the Hook

When the newsroom told me I could "write whatever I want," I wrote exactly that at the top, and Shioiri sent it back with red pen: "Don't get 'whatever you want' confused with whatever you want." So that's how this works.

Honestly, there was no story this week. Wall-racing season ended, and my whole job of narrating from outside the cordon tape wound down with it. My comments section kept asking, "Yume, where next?" and I didn't have an answer. So I lined up at that new café that opened off Haneda. Not work, really. Just killing time.

What surprised me was that nobody in line was in a hurry. My beat is always "hurry up," "will we make it in time," three steps back from the cordon. This place moved at a completely different speed. I talked to a woman who'd missed the lottery 104 times, and she just said, "Missing it just means missing it again," so plainly it threw me off.

The window never opened, in the end. I watched the rig's lights, drank one cup of tea, and went home. The ring light I'd brought just in case never once got turned on. Watching something happen — or not happen — without narrating it for anyone was a first for me.

On the way home, a notification came in that Kishibe Seven's new single had dropped. I listened, but apparently the choreography's still being held back. I'm bad at being made to wait, but after a week of watching how people wait for a window, I think I get it a little now. This city keeps handing me the same homework: get better at waiting.

I told the newsroom, "Nothing happened this time." Gondawara told me, "That's the best kind of piece there is." Which is annoyingly the same thing he told the sword bearer about his column. Next week, I'll actually go somewhere. Probably.