Like Spain, Greece, China, or much of Eastern Europe, Japan is a smoking country. Of late, however, prohibitions have begun to bite. Trains were required to be cigarette-free some time ago. Workplaces and restaurants are slowly following suit, but by no means all. Cigarette machines are everywhere, not least in or near stations – even if you now have to prove by means of a card that you are over twenty to buy. The Odakyū is no exception. These dispensers, scaled down tobacco-warehouses as it were, come framed in electronic lights and instructions. Insert. Press. Collect. At the same time, in carriages and on stations, the No Smoking signs proliferate. A war of inhalation. A war of exhalation. A decade ago smokers using the Odakyū were asked to stand in white half-circles on the platform, so that you saw them puffing and exhaling smoke like groups of Roman conspirators about to fell Caesar. Smoking remains a challenge in Japan: the engrained cultural reflex not to interfere with others, the eco-wish to be smoke free.