In Cold Blood [Ash Lynx] - Banana Fish

Four - Lonely Girl

A stone's throw away from Little Italy, the Chinatown neighbourhood in Lower Manhattan covers almost 2km square feet and is one of nine other Chinatown neighbourhoods in the city.

As Tora stands at one of the many entrances into the neighbourhood, her eyes search the crowds of people, not sure where to start.

Redbrick buildings stand tall with scattered colourful banners and signs written in Chinese script attached to the front of them. Apartments with steel balconies sit on top rows of shops, vibrant canopies above their doors and windows with streams of people walking in and out of them, clutching plastic bags full of produce. From barbershops and beauty salons to restaurants and convenience stores, their doors never close for a second.

The distant sound of car horns, ambulance sirens and a mother calling down from her balcony to the street below is drowned out by the chatter between sellers and buyers, either haggling prices or catching up on the latest news.

When Tora attempts to make her way through the crowds, like a shoal of fish trapped in a net, the rising humidity makes her face flush —despite the bitter, cold January wind. With no other option but to follow the tide, Tora is carried along with the crowd, passing shops and market stalls as she goes.

She manages to break free, finding a quieter spot by a small restaurant to pull her phone out of her pocket. Standing on her tiptoes, she raises her gaze above the crowd and tries her best to read the signs —her hanzi reading on the rusty side.

An older Chinese lady, bearing a tray of steamed buns, serves plates to a group of people sat down at a table nearby and Tora quickly turns to her, striking up a conversation in her best Chinese.

"Excuse me, ma'am, can I trouble you for directions?"

The lady nods her head and Tora continues.

"I'm looking for a restaurant near here, Chang Dai. Do you know where I can find it?" She asks.

Pointing a hand past the crowds of people, the lady nods to Tora. "Walk further down, turn left and then immediately right. It's next to a barbershop."

Sighing in relief Tora thanks the woman and turns around to walk away, when the Chinese woman calls out to her.

"Be careful, that's not a very safe area."

"Don't worry about me, thank you!"

Walking closer to the curb to avoid the crowd, Tora glances down at the email on her phone, sent last night.

'Tora, go to Chang Dai and ask for Nadia Wong, tell her I sent you. Just head towards Canal street and you'll find it easily, you're a clever girl! You can put your Chinese to good use too!

Tanaka'

Ignoring Tanaka's email and following the directions instructed to her by the Chinese lady instead, Tora reaches the street corner, turning left and then almost immediately right. She very quickly understands the warning she received from the woman.

Along the substantially quieter road, small groups of teens stand around, looking questionable, while other men sit together on steps leading to apartments, smoking cigarettes and drinking from cans.

Tora stuffs her hands into her jacket pockets, her hair down her back and blowing in the breeze as she walks down the road. Glancing up at the signs again, she quickly spots the barbershop and the restaurant up ahead of her, both next door to one another.

Glancing behind herself, she opens the door to the diner, wiping her boots on the doormat. The restaurant itself has elements of Chinese design with red and gold tapestry wall hangings around the room and intricately painted glass lanterns with red tassels hanging from the ceiling. The rest of the room resembles an average American diner —the cream tiled floor, silver tables with chairs in the centre and booths to the sides, a few customers scattered throughout eating and drinking. To the right, bar stools are seated below a cashier desk with card menus and a tip jar on top of the surface.