The ride to Nerima was boring at first.

I guess I was numb, not with fear mind you.  I just wanted to get it over
with.  I was sentenced nine months to Nerima, my release pending to my
'reform.'  I think Kojiro and Ryo were given the same sentence.  I don't
know specifically.  They didn't say much about it afterwards.

Well, Ryo was fidgeting in the car -- he looked like he was attending his
own funeral.  Kojiro didn't budge a bit.  He stared straight at the cop
driving the car.  He'd narrow his eyes and his hands would tremble.  I
knew he was thinking up something.

We were half-way to Nerima when Kojiro had the seizure.

It was crazy.  It was like he was frying in an electric chair.  He muscles
were all taut, and even his thick plastic wrist cuffs were straining.  It
looked like Kojiro bit his tongue.  Blood was streaming from his mouth.

Naturally, we freaked out and started shouting.  The cop in the front
kinda panicked a bit and stopped by the side of the road with the passing
cars honking at us.

The cop dragged Kojiro out of the car and tried to keep him from hurting
himself, you know, until the seizure passed.

It was then that Kojiro kneed the cop in the groin.

The cop collapsed onto the ground, and Kojiro started kicking the shit out
of him.

Ryo and I were just stunned.  We didn't even move until Kojiro started
screaming at us to follow him.  So we ran like some mindless animals, not
caring about anything but running away.

Whenever I think back to the past, on those lonely nights after my debt
collection rounds, I always wonder about that escape.  What if Kojiro
hadn't done it?  What if I served my sentence and got released?  Would I
be back in the sushi bar, slicing and dicing at the fish?  Would I be
living a 'clean' life, not spending half my earnings on shabu and cocaine? 
Would I have some nagging wife instead of a dirty prostitute? 

Then I realize a couple drinks later that it's pointless to ask those
unanswerable questions.  What's done is done.  I always tell myself that
even if I had gone to the detention center and released nine months later,
I'd probably been back there within a couple of weeks.

I can't clearly describe what happened during the escape.  I was so scared
that I thought anyone I saw was a plainclothes cop.  We soon found
ourselves hiding in a dark alley, nested away in some empty rundown
neighborhood.  Ryo was mumbling to himself, while Kojiro was trying to get
the plastic cuffs off.  I think I was whispering to Kojiro, asking, "What
are we gonna do?" over and over.

Kojiro didn't say anything to me for several minutes.  Finally, he turned
to me and shouted back, "Shut up and help me get this fucking thing off."
He looked... demonic.  The blood had caked into a flaky crust covering his
chin and neck.

Seeing him snapped me back to reality. 

We cut through the plastic with some sheet metal from a dumpster.  It took
a long time.  It was well into the night when we finally started
whispering about what to do next.

Ryo was no help.  He wanted to turn himself in to the cops.  I didn't want
to go back to jail.  I knew with Kojiro's stunt I'd get a stiffer
sentence.

While I was ranting about contacting some of my other friends for help,
Kojiro didn't say a thing.  He was cooking up another 'plan' of his. 
Soon, silence killed our talk. 

We hid in the alley through the night.

We must have jumped in fear everytime we heard a slightest sound.  We were
silent, thinking, thinking in dark alley.  I also remember being cold and
hungry.  That gnawing hunger.  It was like a growing void devouring my
stomach.  And the chill seeping into my skin -- I'll never forget it.

The best thing about the cold is even though it's freezing, you don't feel
anything.  You don't feel the pain.  Only numbness.  You shiver, rub your
hands and arms, only to lose to the cold world in the end.  That
numbness...

That night, I felt cheated and helpless.  I was angry.  I was scared.  But
most of all, I wanted to eat some food and sleep on a warm futon.

That night, I learned to appreciate what most people in Tokyo took for
granted.  Their warm beds, their small apartments, their full bellies,
their fucking money.  The necessities for survival.  I wanted it all.

I wanted it all, and I wanted it there and then.

But I knew wishing never resulted in anything.

So during that winter night, I vowed to myself I'd never be cold and
hungry again.

To keep warm and full, I had to have money.

Money is earned in two ways:  you slave for it or you hustle for it.

I didn't want to slice and dice in the sushi bar.  I was sick of it.  I
would've had to endure my parents nagging me day and night anyway, if I
had decided to take over the sushi bar.

I knew I could have gotten a job working in construction or some other
'labor intensive job,' but the 'circumstances' wasn't favorable.

So I decided upon the next best thing.

>From that night onward, I started down the path of crime and never looked
back.