-1: Enter stage West-

I hesitated, stepping off the plane. I had never been this far from home, or felt quite so out of place. Haneda airport, HND, whatever one chose to call it, was the gateway to Japan. Yet to me it could've been a gateway to another planet. Or maybe it just felt off because I had spent half a day cooped up in an aircraft cabin.

Mingling with tourists and natives at the baggage carousel, I probably looked as much an outsider as I felt. My baggage at least, was on time and intact, but I felt less out of place as just another person carrying their bags. There was nobody waiting for me at the terminal, but no sooner had I walked out the door when I was approached by a gentleman in what was a very well-tailored suit.

"Mr. Allen Grissom." The man made a bow. "A pleasure to meet you."

"The same." I bowed back. A first impression, and that's what I chose to say?

He gestured to a waiting sedan and a second man took my bags and put them in the back of the car. Inside was stock but comfortable, a far cry from military life. And my apartment.

"You have quite the interesting choice of apparel."

"My apologies, Investigator Shinohara, my assignment here gave me little notice. I'm afraid this was the only formal clothing I had on hand when I was transferred after Dective Narrow had his…" I dug around in my mind for the right word, "…stroke. My Japanese is somewhat rusty, my apologies."

"It's quite all right, though I'm glad it made finding you easy. Not a lot of people dress quite that formally when traveling. "

The engine purring contentedly, the car pulled away from the terminal and joined the throng of traffic weaving into the city.

"I've only worn this when formality required it." I looked out the window, trying to change the subject. "It's a beautiful city. If I have some free time, I would very much like to explore and see the sights."

"Well, you'll be spending a fair amount of time in the field with our Investigators," Shinohara nodded, his eyes now looking over his home as well, "but I'll make sure they know that you're interested in going out when time allows."

I nodded. My brother had wanted to visit Tokyo, though I had no idea what he wanted to see. What I wanted to do right now was to eat something; I hadn't eaten since before the flight over the Pacific. My stomach gurgled, strangely loud in the car and I apologized again.

"It's quite all right," Shinohara answered with an air of congeniality, "You've had quite a long flight and I'll certainly agree that travel portions rarely satisfy. Since the flight arrived later in the day, we weren't planning on getting you introduced to anybody at the CCG until tomorrow. How about we get some dinner and then we can get you to you lodgings."

I nodded; I didn't have much of a choice if he wanted to drag me into a restaurant. Outside the car, the first fingers of dusk stained the skies with streaks. Dinner itself was a simple but intimate affair: we stopped at a small restaurant, which was barely big enough to fit three of us, a kitchen and a chef into an area the size of my college dorm.

Ok, I exaggerate. My dorm room was definitely bigger.

That said, I liked it; the atmosphere was more cozy than cramped and the whole place was filled with the smell of cooking. Shinohara was immediately noticed and greeted by the chef and one of the pair of patrons. They companions made small talk as they ate, and I caught mentions of politics, food and—I think—literature. Both of them were talking faster than I was used to and combine that with the uncomfortable duty of eating and my rusty Japanese meant that I was at a disadvantage.

Throughout the visit, I tried to keep what little I had learned from the book on etiquette in the front of my mind. Likely, I messed up a few things, but I saw the chef with a light smile one or twice, so maybe I didn't butcher everything. When the last of the food had been consumed, the investigator paid and we left the glowing interior into the electric haze of the streets.

The trip to my hotel was almost surreal for the most part; traffic, gaggles of people talking on the sidewalk and taking advantage of the cool night. Still more amazing to me was how polite everyone on the road was—no honking, not tailgating, no shouting and no goddamn goats. If I had to deal with livestock while driving again, it would involve roadkill.

Shinohara pointed out a pair of Investigators at a red light, two gentlemen in white trench coats—probably also wearing suits underneath—talking with a woman at a bus stop. It was strange, seeing suits rather than formal uniforms, but then, I was used to my companions wearing body armor and helmets.

After what felt like an eternity of driving through the streets, we finally arrived at the hotel where I would be staying. Investigator Shinohara told me that he would arrive at eight to pick me up before he left, as staff collected my bags and brought them inside. If he said eight, he meant eight on the dot. The staff got me my room key almost as soon as I walked through the doorway and I was waved to the elevator.

Stressed and tired, I followed their lead gladly. The elevator, instead of having buttons, used my room key to determine which floor to take me to—an intriguing feature. The room itself was almost an apartment, complete with tiny kitchenette, table setup and even a recliner.

For a moment, I wondered how my Japanese counterpart's setup looked. The BGA had residences set up for people who worked and lived on-site, but I had never been in them despite hearing that they were rather deluxe. Perhaps he too had been put up in an upscale hotel. Probably, maybe, but I'm too tired to care.

My stomach distracted from further contemplation with a very unhappy gurgle and an attempt to contort itself into a pretzel. The food was probably good, but it wasn't what I needed. With a sigh, I kicked off my shoes and hurried over to the bathroom without a second thought.