Growing up on the outskirts of Edo, was something that I never really thought of as something special.  Samurais and geisha walked the streets, townspeople rushed around busy market places and children entertained themselves with made-up games.  

Across the lane way lived Saki, only a few months apart in age we are as close as sisters, and Sho, her brother a couple years older.  The summer Saki and I had turned 14, there was protests in town.  I was too young to remember the reason but I do remember the violence.  23 people had died, some police, some protestors, but also innocent bystanders like Saki and Sho’s parents.  At only 17 years old, Sho became the head of the house and with the help of my parents and the community, has managed to keep up the family carpentry business and make a life for both him and Saki.

Everyday was much the same.  I lived with my parents and worked in our family soba-ya, the bottom level of our house.  Dad makes the soba and chats with the customers.  He knows everyone by name and knows exactly the right things to ask to start a conversation.  Everybody loves him for it.  Mum cooks the soba out the back, making it to each of our customers tastes, and I  take the orders out.  I usually don't take notice of the conversations going on, dad says ‘the conversations of men over supper aren't for my ears’.  But lately all anyone can talk about is this mysterious figure known as Kamen.  Apparently someone has been breaking into and stealing from the wealthy houses and anonymously distributing it to poor and struggling families.  Whoever it is must be very skilled and brave, repeatedly sneaking past armed guards.  I have to admit I was intrigued.  I wonder if he’ll stop by our neighbourhood one time.  

Someone grabs my arm.  Whispering with alcohol soaked breath, he says something unintelligible but from the tone I realise was meant to be some sort of sleazy proposition.  This wasn’t uncommon, a young girl working in a restaurant with predominantly working-class customers often receives that kind of attention.  I was never good at dealing with this type of situation, usually I try and shrug away and hide out in the kitchen for a while.  Tonight I didn't get the chance.  I feel the man’s hand release my arm as I am pushed backwards.  I raise my head but am only looking at the back of a man.  He’s scalding the drunk customer for his behaviour, for acting so rudely to a lady.  I feel my cheeks flush and look down in an attempt to hide it.  The man pushes past me and rushes out the door.  I’m now face to face with my saviour, or would be if my eyes weren't fixed to his feet.  “Haru-chan are you ok?” I hear in a familiar voice.  “Sho-san thank you and yes I'm ok” I say lifting my head to look him in the eye before bowing slightly and heading to the refuge of the kitchen.  Trying to calm the flushing of my cheeks and beating of my heart I slouch over the counter.  Why am I like this with someone that I’ve known all my life? I have to pull myself together and get back to work.