Starter for @treasurechcst
It was one of the pros from he dad’s promotion. Her family was richer now, and they could afford things Haruko would have never considered in her previous life, such as an exchange experience in the US over the summer. And sure, the scene was different from her hometown, a little place in the Japanese countryside, but then again, so was Tokyo when she first moved there, and her enthusiasm over discovering that great new place always overrode her nostalgia for her previous home.
But this wasn’t Tokyo. This was New York City!
She had just left her bags in her new home -- a small room in a shared dorm affiliated with the high school hosting her -- and had lost no time rushing out to explore everything she could. Her little brother had even given her a list of places to send him photos from and a bunch of souvenirs to bring him back. And now, with a t-shirt saying ‘I <3 NY’, a brand new blue Yankees hat on her head, and a fuming hot dog in her hand, Haruko probably looked like the trademark tourist wandering around the Big Apple with her nose constantly in the air, gazing at those bright signs and windows shining against the dusk sky. But she didn’t mind if she looked ridiculous: she was loving everything about it.
New York was amazing: familiar and surprising at the same time. Haruko had seen so much of it in the movies she had a feeling she knew every corner she turned. And probably, she got overconfident with it. At some point, the lucid skyscrapers left place to grey buildings; the colorful signs turned into shabby ones with flickering lights, and the bustling streets grew narrower and emptier.
Haruko finished her hot dog with a nervous gulp and tossed the wrapping paper in the closest trash bin, casting a careful glance around. That area certainly wasn’t familiar. It was a place no one would put in a movie, unless it was a crime one or a thriller. She heaved a tensed breath and grabbed her phone to check her map, but no luck: the battery was down.
“Guess I shouldn’t have taken so many pictures,” she muttered, putting the phone back in her pocket.
She spotted a run-down diner at the corner of the alley; it was everything but inviting, but maybe they could give her some directions, or let her call her supervisor for help. She took in a deep breath and headed towards it; when she pushed the glass door open, she noticed the window was greasy from too many touches.
“I’m sorry, uh...” She muttered with her weak English, trying her best to keep her thick Japanese accent at bay, “telephone?”
The guy at the counter casted a patronising look at her attire and nodded at a telephone hung on the wall. Haruko thanked him with a hesitant bow and headed towards it.
She lifted the receiver, trying to remember the number for the dorm, when a sudden crash echoed at her shoulder. A loud, booming voice filled the diner with a threatening note, clear enough for Haruko to freeze on the spot, the telephone still in her hand.
“Hands up!” A man shouted. “This is a robbery! No wrong moves, or I’ll shoot!”
Well. That first day in New York had certainly started with a blast, she thought, terrified.
