Picture, if you will, a typical Saturday afternoon in Shinjuku. Throngs of people scurry to and fro, delivery trucks troll by belching fumes, while scooters dart in and out of traffic. This time, though, something's up.
A crowd has gathered in front of the chic Beams gallery on Chuo-dori. Television crews are milling around, lending a sense of expectation to the atmosphere. Before the gallery stands a wall of multicolored plastic buckets. What could be about to happen?
Suddenly, from within the gallery comes an answer -- of sorts. An ominous scraping beat can be heard. Then the crowd surges forward, gasping, as a troupe of schoolgirls emerges.