From the 29^th of April until the 5^th of May was Japan’s Golden Week. Named this way because it included a lot of individual holidays and most people were given the whole week off from work. It was quite the opposite for the hosting business: The Golden Week wasn’t golden because of time off, but because of the steady stream of customers that usually frequented the clubs during this time and showered the hosts and hostesses in money. The Shiroryuu however had the lowest weekly income in its whole 2 years of existence, as Mama-san told the girls Sunday afternoon when they showed up for work.

It had been Richardis’s first whole week as a hostess and she was completely exhausted.

“The usual weeks are even more stressful?” she asked Chi-chan.

“What are you talking about, of course they are. This week has been super lazy! I mean I was just sitting at the bar for a whole hour on Wednesday! And with all the shimei I lost I don’t know why I even showed up for work again on Friday!”

Chi-chan was kidding of course: She needed the job and every day off was money lost. The hostesses of the Shiroryuu got Thursdays off, but had to come to work all other nights. Ayame’s day off was Wednesday which meant Richardis only saw her for breakfast. She had to be very independent in a lot of ways: Take care of her laundry, do shopping, go by train and navigate through the city center. Although they lived in the same apartment Richardis felt her life was becoming more solitary than she wanted. The other Shiroryuu girls were nice, but they usually didn’t talk much, as they had to entertain the customers. As a result most of them were still strangers to her and she wondered if that would ever change. Talking with customers was often boring as they would ask her the same things again and again.

“Where are you from?”

“Do you like it here?”

“Have you tried Natto⁶ before?”

“How long have you been learning Japanese?”

Of course they came for some light flirting and not for deep conversations, but Richardis silently felt annoyed by the ever same questions after just one week of work. She hadn’t managed to get another shimei and was usually send to entertain together with another more experienced hostess. Takahashi-san – or Masato-san as he wanted her to call him had neither called nor showed up and Richardis wondered whether that was a bad sign.

“Don’t think so,” Chi-chan had commented, “Sometimes my shimei don’t come back for months. You know, you might not be the only hostess he visits. Depending on his income he might be the shimei of up to 5 others.”

Golden week came as a great nuisance to Junsu as it meant that contract negotiations with Pearl Station were halted for a whole week. He understood that he had to stay low after all the commotion about his hostess club visit and his official apology, but not being productive at all got to him and put him in a bad mood.

“Write a song about the unfairness of the world,” suggested Junho on Sunday afternoon when the Golden week was coming to a close.

“There’s not a single instrument in this house,” said Junsu, “I can’t compose without a melody first.”

“Actually there is an instrument in this house,” corrected Junho, getting up from the living room armchair.

“I didn’t know you still played anything?” Junsu said in surprise and got up to follow Junho.

“I don’t. But I own an instrument,” his hyung said, heading into Junsu’s room.

“There’s an instrument in my room and I haven’t noticed?”

Junho didn’t answer and instead went ahead to open the closet that Junsu’s clothes currently occupied. He pulled out a box from a top closet shelf and handed it to Junsu. It was eerily light.

“What is it?” asked Junsu.

“Open and find out.”

Junsu pulled the lid off the box and to his surprise - found a pink ukulele inside.

“I see why you were hiding this,” Junsu laughed, inspecting the ridiculous little instrument.

Junho didn’t say anything.

“Where did you get this?”

“A friend gave it to me. As a joke. I said I was too old to learn another instrument properly, so I got this for my last birthday.”

“Can you play any?”

“No.”

Junho closed the closet and they went back into the living room, Junsu still carrying the ukulele. Junho returned to reading the script for his drama and Junsu pulled the ukulele out of the box and tried playing. He had tried the guitar before but the ukulele only had four strings, so he wasn’t sure what to do at all.

“Press only the A-string between the 3^rd and 4^th fret to play the C-chord,” said Junho annoyed when after 20 minutes Junsu still hadn’t managed to coax a proper note out of the instrument.

“Ah, so you do play little bit?” teased Junsu.

“A tiny little bit,” replied Junho, “Once you’ve tried the C-Chord you’ll see how ridiculously easy it is.”

Junsu followed Junho’s instructions and enthusiastically began to strum the c-chord.

“You are a music prodigy indeed,” said Junho, with suppressed laughter.

“Shut up mutant or teach me another chord!” countered Junsu.

Another week flew by in a haze. Richardis stuck to her alcohol-free cocktails, but the perfumed air of the Shiroryuu and the mindless conversations made her dizzy. The other foreign hostess – Angela, a Canadian – had resumed working at the Shiroryuu and they had soon become quite close.

“I don’t know how you made it to one year,” said Richardis one evening, when the Shiroryuu was unusually void of customers again.

“I don’t either,” said Angela, checking her long red hair in the mirror behind the bar, “I think I’ve been asked for about the 200^th time today whether it’s my first time in Japan. Technically yeah, it’s my first time. But my 370^th day here – or something like that.”

“I thought… since we are in Ginza the conversations would be… intellectually stimulating.”

“I feel you. It’s frustrating when you meet this literature professor and he doesn’t want to discuss the Dostoyevsky that you read for him, but your bust size.”

Angela let out an ironic laugh and Richardis joined in.

“Also I have drunken way too many of these,” said Angela holding up her Martini.

Chatting with fellow hostesses, complaining about the job, taking the train twice every day, getting dressed up and putting on make-up – not much else was happening in Richardis life in Japan. So she welcomed the news of the Shiroryuu hostesses participating in a daylight event, when Mama-san told the girls just this, when they had finished their Monday night shift.

“Gather around please,” she called through the main room, when the last customer had left.

“This is especially important for all the girls who started working here this year, because you don’t know yet,” she continued when the 25 Shiroryuu hostesses had come within earshot. “We have this tradition of showing our new faces to the world of potential new customers. We take part in town events where we know all the important people of the city will be, including those who are known to frequent hostess clubs. Now – the event this year will acquire kimono attire. I’d like all of you to rent one for the 17^th of May and be ready to appear at Asakusa¹ at 10 a.m.”

There was a collective moan from the hostesses.

“Seeing how Coco-chan almost fell asleep last time while handing a prize to the major of Asakusa, you will get the day before off to adjust your sleeping schedule.”

Everyone sighed in relief.

“Thank you, Mama-san,” they said to chorus.

Mama-san waved them off. “Go home now. Enough work done for today.”

“Otsukaresama²,” replied the choir.

The ukulele provided Junsu with something to do for a few days, but when after another whole week no one from Pearl Station had contacted him, he went ahead and called Yamaa-san.

“Moshi moshi, this is Yamaa-san.”

“This is Kim Junsu.”

“Kim-san, good to hear from you. How are you doing?”

“Feeling unproductive.”

“Unproductive. I see.”

“I was hoping I could start working on something to promote the planned comeback of JYJ.”

The contract of between JYJ and Pearl Station to the extent that it had been drawn up until now – as Toma-san had informed Junsu – entailed that there would be the production of at least one full album, including any activities to promote it. Junsu hoped that 2 weeks after the hostess club incident he could take up working again.

“Comeback, oh well. I’m not sure we can find something to do – just for you alone.”

“I could do a charity concert,” suggested Junsu.

“Hmm, to counter-balance your image... That is good idea! Yes, yes I think we can do that. I’ll let you know when we find an event you can take part in.”

“I actually… already found an event.”

“I… I see.”

Junsu knew he was demanding, when he shouldn’t. The company had taken responsibility for him and now he was making requests. He was indebted to them, not the other way around. But he couldn’t help it. He could no longer sit at home and bite his time.

“Friday next week is the Sanja Masturi³ in Asakusa. There is always a charity event in connection with the festival. I… I wrote an email asking them if they have a free slot and they do. They will provide a stage, sound-system, all those things. It’s as good as done.”

Junsu nervously waited for his manager to reply. After a few seconds he heard a chuckle on the other end.

“Kim-san, you could be your own manager. I don’t feel like you need me anymore.”

“Of course I still need you,” said Junsu, hoping that Yamaa-san wasn’t joking to hide his anger. “It would mean a lot to me if you could organize the event.”

“Ah, it’s very soon, but I think we can do it. Yes, yes I will take care of it.”

Tired and worn out, but excited by the prospect of a day in the sunlight, Richardis arrived at Nishi-Kasai station and got off the train. She went down the stairs from the subway platform into the station and past the bakeries and small stores that were opening their doors again for the Monday morning crowd of workers. The bakery lady she had once again passed at 4:30 in the morning eyed her suspiciously, but Richardis didn’t care.

She had never worn a Kimono before. That alone was thrilling. She had seen them worn by other women. Now and then you could still spot a lady in a kimono on the Tokyo streets, especially in the center, where cultural and shopping areas blended into one another. Richardis pictured herself wearing one and gliding over the stone tiles of central Tokyo in high geta⁴.

She was eager to go home, go to bed and tell Ayame in the morning. She needed to find out were to rent a Kimono, where to get her hair done. She worried a little that it might be expensive. Mama-san probably expected a high class kimono. She would have to ask Chi-chan or Angela about details.

Arriving at Ayame’s apartment building, Richardis began climbing the tiny staircase up to the 2^nd floor. Halfway up the stairs she stopped when she heard Ayame’s laugh. Although it sounded different than her usual laugh, it was definitely Ayame.

Richardis wasn’t sure whether to go up. It sounded very much like male company and Richardis didn’t want to cause an embarrassing moment. Just when she had made the decision to wait, she felt the urge to pee.

“Great timing,” she thought, looking at the Konbini on the other side of the street. Damn it, Konbini didn’t have public bathrooms. There were some back at the train station, but she wasn’t sure whether they were open at this hour yet.

“Just hear who it is, then decide,” she told herself, so she went extra quiet and listened.

But after Ayame’s laughter, no one spoke – instead Richardis’s bladder decided to ring alarm balls.

“Alright,” she thought, “This is soon gonna be out of my hands, might as well go now,” and she continued up the stairs, purposely making a lot of noise to announce her coming.

Upon reaching the end of the stairs she turned left, not sure what to expect.

“Ah, Richi-chan,” said Ayame and immediately let go of a man with dyed blond hair.

The man, too, turned his head to look at Richardis and she recognized Mori-san. He instantly flashed his crooked smile, which looked exactly the same as the last two times that she had seen him. As though he was copying and pasting his smile every time.

Ayame had turned a deep shade of pink and was smiling from ear to ear. “Eh, Imoto-chan… formally meet my boyfriend, Kenji Mori.”

Excited and energized by the upcoming charity-concert Junsu got out of bed early on Monday morning, even before Junho, who had to leave for work at 8:30. Not bothering to change Junsu ventured into the living room, took the pink ukulele and went back into his room to practice.

He sat down on his bed and began strumming a simple melody. It didn’t sound good, so he started tuning the instrument. When he had finished tuning, he noticed something protruding from somewhere inside the ukulele. A small paper of sorts was stuck inside the body of the instrument. He tried to reach it with his fingers, but couldn’t get hold of it. He tried shaking the ukulele, but the paper refused to move. Finally he got chopsticks from the kitchen and carefully reached inside the ukulele, as though he was performing delicate surgery and removed the paper shred.

Holding it in his hand he noticed it wasn’t a shred at all. It was a miniature envelope. He turned it around and found Junho’s name written on it. Was it a letter? Was this from the friend who had given Junho the ukulele for his birthday? Junsu held the miniature envelope up against the light from the window and saw that indeed there was miniature writing inside the envelope.

Junsu wondered whether he could open and read it. It seemed a little ridiculous that something so small could be a personal letter. Surely it was just a happy birthday note or even just a joke. Pink ukuleles and his hyung had little chemistry after all. Yet Junsu felt obligated to respect the sender’s and Junsu’s privacy and decided to give it to Junho – just in case the envelope had gotten stuck before Junho had even gotten a chance to read it.

As he was thinking this, he heard the door of Junho’s room open and his hyung shuffling into the bathroom. Still feeling energized by the phone call with Yamaa-san from the day before Junsu sprung from his bed, carefully put the little envelope on the bedside table, got dressed and then went to make breakfast, taking the envelope with him.

“Thank you, you are a life-saver,” said Junho entering the kitchen and sitting down at the table that was already set for breakfast.

Junsu finished the scrambled eggs⁵ he was making, put them on a plate and sat down opposite of Junho.

“Thank you, thank you!” said Junho – clearly hungry – reaching for the scrambled egg and shoveling them onto his plate, “The many times I called you useless, I take it all back.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Junsu, who was by now spiked up with curiosity over the little envelope, so he went straight ahead and placed in front of Junho.

“What’s that?” Junho asked, his mouth half-full.

“Chew up and find out,” said Junsu, “It’s addressed to you. I found it inside the ukulele.”

“Inside the ukulele? For real?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, let me finish and I’ll open it.”

So they both finished their breakfast in a hurry – Junho because he was under some time-pressure to get to the drama-shooting in time and Junsu because he was so eager to know the contents of the ridiculously tiny letter from inside the ridiculously tiny ukulele.

“Here we go,” said Junho, when he had gulped down the last of his orange juice.

He opened the little envelope, struggled a little, but finally managed to pull out the actual piece of paper with something scribbled on it. His eyes flew over the few tiny lines.

“So, what does it say?” asked Junsu with some impatience.

“It… it doesn’t make any sense!” said Junho. Then he began to cry.

^{1 - Asakusa - major part of central tokyo, looks like this:}

^{2 - Otsukaresama - frequently used saying at schools and workplaces to signify the end of a school/workday and congratulate everyone for their hard work}

^{3 - Sanja Matsuri - real Asakusa festival, involves a lot of noise and carrying of shrines :) There isn't really a charity event associated with this festival... that's my imagination at work}

^{4 - Geta - traditional Japanese sandals, the Geisha version looks like this:}

^{Omg, I've seriously always wanted to wear a pair. I will - one day!}

^{5 - Scrambled eggs – doesn’t sound like the typical Asian breakfast, right? You’d expect rice, miso-soup or kimchi – anything little more south-east Asian. Well, my in-most-other-aspects-super-Japanese host family made toast with cheese and ham almost every morning, so… I think most Japanese and Koreans are flexible: Breakfast might be traditional, but it doesn’t have to be ;)}

^{6 - Natto - fermented bean paste, traditional Japanese dish, the only time I tried it... it tastes like vomit - but it's really really healthy food! :D}

Finally managed a cliff-hanger… of sorts. Oh my dear characters… all the things you’ll have to go through *malicious laughter* Hope you liked the chapter! :) There will be a lot of vital developments the next couple of chapters. Looking forward to writing and sharing them with you! :)