As I followed the officer around to the back of the station, I suddenly became afraid that he might lead me to a small tricycle with pink streamers. Rest assured, there is no such thing as human error in the Japanese police system. My bike was my bike and after sitting in a small room and stamping my inkan a few times (it's so much fun to "sign" things here!) I came around the corner to find my bike at the front desk, ready for me to ride off into the (figurative) sunset.
And just recently a friend's wallet, surreptitiously jettisoned while biking, was immediately returned to the police untouched, money still there. Happy endings in Japan. Why is it so, how can it be? Is it the steadfast police? An honest population?
Perhaps it is as inexplicable as the crows; bidden or unbidden, always present.
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