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customers to be seen now: someone writing on a laptop, someone text-messaging on a cell phone, another absorbed in reading like Mari, another doing nothing but staring thoughtfully out the window. Maybe they can’t sleep. Maybe they don’t want to sleep. A family restaurant provides such people with a place to park themselves late at night.
    A large woman charges in as if she could hardly wait for the restaurant’s automatic glass door to open. She is solidly constructed, not fat. Her shoulders are broad and strong-looking. She wears a black woolen hat pulled down to the eyes, a big leather jacket, and orange pants. Her hands are empty. Her powerful appearance draws people’s attention. As soon as she comes in, a waitress asks her, “Table for one, ma’am?” but the woman ignores her and casts anxious eyes around the restaurant. Spotting Mari, she takes long strides in her direction.
    When she arrives at Mari’s table, she says nothing but immediately lowers herself into the seat across from Mari. For a woman so large, her movements are quick and efficient.
    “Uh…mind?” she asks.
    Mari, who has been concentrating on her book, looks up. Finding this large stranger sitting opposite her, she is startled.
    The woman pulls off her woolen hat. Her hair is an intense blond, and it is cut as short as a well-trimmed lawn. Her face wears an open expression, but the skin has a tough, weathered look, like long-used rainwear, and although the features are not exactly symmetrical, there is something reassuring about them that seems to come from an innate fondness for people. Instead of introducing herself, she gives Mari a lopsided smile and rubs her thick palm over her short blond hair.
    The waitress comes and tries to set a glass of water and a menu on the table as called for in the Denny’s training manual, but the woman waves her away. “Never mind, I’m getting outta here right away. Sorry, hon.”
    The waitress responds with a nervous smile and leaves.
    “You’re Mari Asai, right?” the woman asks.
    “Well, yes…”
    “Takahashi said you’d probably still be here.”
    “Takahashi?”
    “Tetsuya Takahashi. Tall guy, long hair, skinny. Plays trombone.”
    Mari nods. “Oh, him.”
    “Yeah. He says you speak fluent Chinese.”
    “Well,” Mari answers cautiously, “I’m okay with everyday conversation. I’m not exactly fluent.”
    “That’s fine. Can I getcha to come with me? I’ve got this Chinese girl in a mess. She can’t speak Japanese, so I don’t know what the hell is going on.”
    Mari had no idea what the woman was talking about, but she set a bookmark in place, closed the book, and pushed it aside.
    “What kind of mess?”
    “She’s kinda hurt. Close by. An easy walk. I won’t take much of your time. I just need you to translate for her and give me some idea what happened. I’d really appreciate it.”
    Mari has a moment of hesitation, but, looking at her face, she guesses that the woman is not a bad person. She slips her book into her shoulder bag and puts on her jacket. She reaches for the bill on the table, but the woman beats her to it.
    “I’ll pay this.”
    “That’s all right. It’s stuff I ordered.”
    “Never mind, it’s the least I can do. Just shut up and let me pay.”
    When they stand up, the difference in their sizes becomes obvious. Mari is a tiny girl, and the woman is built like a barn, maybe two or three inches shy of six feet. Mari gives up and lets the woman pay for her.
    They step outside. The street is as busy as ever despite the time. Electronic sounds from the game center. Shouts of karaoke club barkers. Motorcycle engines roaring. Three young men sit on the pavement outside a shuttered shop doing nothing in particular. When Mari and the woman pass by, the three look up and follow them with their eyes, probably wondering about this odd couple, but saying nothing, just staring. The shutter is covered with spray-painted graffiti.
    “My name’s Kaoru,” the