The Passengers on the Hankyu Line полностью

‘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.