"Did you brush your teeth today?"

What the fuck? Yes, I did, but before you asked I was busy admiring your socks. Nice seifuku. Do you really have school today, or is it just some weird dressup thing you like to do, maybe put on your uniform and go out for a stroll, talking to strange gaijin... this is Harajuku, you know, and it is Sunday--Oh, but you have Bunkasai, eh. Well then. Yet...

Why don't I believe you? You're talking, but it's all lies.

I'm 22.

"We're 22 also," you reply, batting you're eyes, trying to draw my attention to the immaculately detailed lashes and mascara resting just above your skin. I admit, it's beautiful, but what are you trying to do? Why are you lying, you aren't 22, I know, because you have school--you said so yourself.

You bat your eyes again and hide beneath your umbrella, looking away from me, then back--directly into my eyes. Silence, just raindrops.

What is behind those two glowing little gems. I've never seen such eyes before, and I know they are hiding something, that I can't place--lying eyes. Lying to me... What do you want? Something... the same thing I want?

You are like the girl on the final train last night, the girl in pink and black--my two favorites--holding a guitar and a cellphone, just peering up once and a while batting those pink and black lined eyes. I see you, I see you.

You are hiding something in those eyes I've never seen. I just want to stare at them... tell me their secrets, please...

***

They laughed again and twirled their pink umbrellas around and around in the rain, spraying everyone on the crowded sidewalk. "We're 12, really, we're 12."

That's a lot of makeup for a twelve year old.

A bit more walking and a bit more talking and then comes the revelation: "18-years-old", they say." We are 18." Okay, maybe. Maybe you two are 18, but your names certainly aren't "Christine."

Speaking Japanese downwards toward two short girls in pouring rain while strolling upon a crowded Omotesando in Harajuku isn't easy. In fact it's very nearly impossible, but I did my best, and despite my overwhelming desire to accompany them farther, I split off down an alley about 30 minutes worth of walking later.

I probably should have asked for their cellphone numbers.

I probably should have asked for their real names.

I probably should have found the truth behind their eyes...

Although they were attractive, I'm still very unsure about the whole schoolgirl look; I mean, what's it all about?

They said they were going to school... they also said they were 22, then 12, then 18. They also said they were both "Christine." There's something just very, very devious about the girls who dress up in skirts, blouses and giant, scrunchy white socks on the weekends for their strolls through Harajuku, those giant socks making their bodies appear off balance, with far too much weight concentrated in the ankles.

There's also something very mischievous about two young, seductively dressed girls in thick, gorgeous eye makeup approaching a foreigner about his morning hygiene habits. I suppose you could call that an icebreaker.

In Japan, all students (aside from college students) must wear uniforms in school, and I suppose its grown to become somewhat of a fetish here among Japanese men.

I wish it hadn't been raining, maybe then talking would have been easier. I had seen these type of girls many times before I just never expected to actually get to talk to some of them.

But when you go walking alone, you just never know...

***

Frozen in the rain, 76° fahrenheit, a stone grey Harajuku... am I shy or is it you? It must be a game, it must be.

Just wait.

When I finally figure out a bit more of this language, I will be dropping into your subcultures, and these lonely walks, though so full of potential now, will become even more worthwhile, because I'll be approaching you.

"Did you brush your teeth this morning?"

It never stops raining here... falling and falling...