The Ascent From Darkness
Feb 7, 2015 21:42:41 GMT
Nikudou Natsumi, geekygenius, and 1 more like this
Post by Mikauzoran on Feb 7, 2015 21:42:41 GMT
The Ascent From Darkness:
An American-Japanese Boy Growing Up In Japan
Chapter One: The Beginning (Hajime)
I met Tachibana on the day I had planned to be the last of my life. It was the end of February just a few days before junior high entrance exams , and I was at my limit. I had studied for hours without end for the past few years. On my commute to and from school each day, I was accompanied by an open textbook just so that I could take advantage of every free moment, squeeze in a little more studying. I had to push myself so hard just so that I didn’t fall behind the rest of the pack. Back at home, as soon as I walked through the door, I was off to hit the books, going to my room and cracking open the entrance exam practice books. I’d slave away over the texts until dinner. After I’d eaten, I went to cram school for two hours and returned home drained at nine-thirty. I immediately collapsed into bed, mentally exhausted, only to wake up at seven to perform the same ridiculous dance all over again.
I had lived that way for years as most other children did, going to extremes to obtain good grades. Unfortunately, while this method seemed to work for the majority, all of my efforts seemed wasted, my hard work in vain. I was ranked only number 223 out of the 400 students in my class. No matter how hard the information was drilled into me, my mind always went blank during tests and mock exams. I was cursed with test anxiety in a country where exams controlled one’s fate.
It didn’t matter that I was a good person. So what if I tried hard? No one cared if you had a great personality if you didn’t score well on exams. That’s what my grandmother always told me whenever I dared to argue with her about my less than satisfactory scores. Sadly, the rest of Japan agreed with her.
I was trapped. In less than seventy-two hours I would walk into that classroom with its unforgiving white walls. I would sit at that uncomfortable desk and fiddle with my pencils until the proctor set down the dreaded Herculean task. And then my mind would conveniently find itself empty of all of the knowledge it had possessed minutes before. I would fail miserably and be doomed to start some sort of career training program or go to a special school for students no other schools would take. My mother would be disappointed, and, worst of all, my grandmother would disown me.
All of this was running through my head as I gazed over the edge of the school’s roof . Why even bother taking the test? My life was over anyway. There was no point in going on. What was I living for? Shame when the scores were posted . Guilt for not studying harder and remembering what I had learned. Stress from the lousy job I would most certainly hate if I ever managed to secure employment. It was hopeless, and there was nothing to look forward to.
I slipped off my shoes, setting them down next the fence around the edge of the rooftop. I carefully straightened them a second time and then a third before sliding a note to my mother into the right shoe. I took a deep breath and swung my left leg over the fence. I paused to take another deep inhale before my right leg followed the left. I held on to the cold metal coils as I turned and took one last look at the ground four stories below me.
The frigid wind blew softly, ruffling my mocha-colored locks. It sent a chill through my body, and then, strangely, I felt at peace. This was it. I was done. No more worries. No more stress. No more Grandma always nagging and chastising. No more bullying and teasing because of my half-blood heritage. Only calm and quiet. I closed my eyes, and my fingers slowly began to uncurl, letting go of my lifeline.
“Do you mind?” A young male voice called out to me, sounding rather miffed.
I turned slowly to see a boy about my age with fair skin and hair dyed orange. His uniform was a bit disheveled, and he held a lit cigarette in his left hand.
He rolled his eyes and slowly approached me. “Geez. Can’t a guy smoke in peace? Why do you think I went to the trouble of coming up to the roof anyway? It wasn’t so that I could call the police and give my statement regarding your death. If you’re going to jump, do it somewhere else like a bridge or someplace. Now, get down from there. What are you trying to do? Traumatize me?”
I blinked. “S-s-sorry. I apologize for inconveniencing you.” I hastily climbed back over the fence and put my shoes back on. I bowed from the waist and begged for forgiveness. “I truly am sorry. Please forgive me.”
“God, are you old-fashioned. We’re the same age; why are you acting so polite?” The strange boy laughed, herding me farther away from the edge. “You’re Kimura from class 6A, aren’t you? What’s your first name?”
“My given name is Akira.” I responded timidly, very confused. “I’m sorry. Do I know you? We’re not in the same class, are we?”
“Nah.” He gave another light, hearty laugh. “I’m in 6B. Tachibana Hajime . Yoroshiku , I guess. I only know you because you kind of stand out. No offense. Are you very sensitive about it?”
He was referring to the fact that I was only half Japanese, since my mother was American. Unfortunately, it was easy to tell since I had light hair and one blue eye. I stuck out like a nail that needed to be hammered down in homogenous Japan where dark hair and dark eyes were the norm.
“It’s fine. I don’t really care.” I lied. “Douzo yoroshiku onegaishimasu.”
“Hey, how’s about I take you out for sushi? There’s a great kaiten place at Kyoto Station. Or, if you’d rather, they have a food court on—I think—the tenth floor that we could check out. They’ve got some noodle places, a takoyaki stand, and a Log Kit . I’ve got a friend who works at Log Kit, so I get free fries every now and then. What do you think? I’ll buy,” my new acquaintance offered jovially, tugging me towards the door leading to the stairwell.
“I’m…not sure.” I resisted weakly as he pulled me along like a rag doll. “I should probably get home. My grandmother will kill me if I’m late, and my mother will worry.”
The young hooligan paused and smirked at me. “It didn’t look to me like you were planning on going home anytime soon. The way I see it, if you go with me, you’ll get home a lot sooner than you would have if I’d let you be. Don’t you think?”
I blinked. This bad influence’s logic made sense. “O-okay.” I gulped and consented to be led along.
We walked in relative silence from our school to Nishiouji Station and then took the train to Kyoto Station.
I hated trains. Everyone always stared, but they did it surreptitiously because to stare outright would be rude. They kept up the pretense of reading manga or newspapers, all the while glancing over the tops of the pages to gawk. They snuck furtive, fleeting peeks when they thought I wasn’t looking. Even if I couldn’t always see the perpetrator, I felt eyes on me at all times whenever I took the train.
To see a non-Japanese was relatively rare, so I was a spectacle because of my uncommon appearance. I was looked upon as a foreigner even though I had lived all of my life in Japan.
Thankfully the train ride was a short one, and we arrived at Kyoto Station within five minutes. The train doors opened, and we walked out onto the platform and up the stairs amid the throng of other commuters.
“So what’ll it be, Akira-kun ? Sushi? Noodles? Takoyaki?” My acquaintance chattered brightly as he pulled me merrily behind him. He paused and turned when I didn’t answer. He seemed to find the astonished look on my face amusing, for he began to laugh that airy chuckle of his. “What’s the matter? I can call you ‘Akira-kun’, can’t I ? I am your benefactor after all.”
“S-sure…Tachibana-san.” I blinked. I had just met this strange fellow, and already he was talking to me as if we had been friends for years.
“Just Tachibana is fine.” The rebel shrugged. “I guess you can call me Hajime, if you’d like, though I really hate my name. So…sushi, noodles, takoyaki, or Log Kit?”
“Sushi will be fine.” I mumbled. I was not calling him Hajime. Where was this boy’s sense of social order?
We took a seat at the counter at the kaiten zushi place and poured ourselves some hot tea.
“Get whatever you want since I’m treating,” Tachibana urged when he noticed I was only choosing the one hundred yen plates. “I’m not hurting for pocket change.” He opened his wallet and flashed three ten thousand yen bills.
My mouth dropped, and I thought, “What did you do? Mug someone?”
“I’m the son of the head of the Tachibana Group.” He explained with an embarrassed grin. “My mom’s the CEO. We make electronics.”
I took a good look at his unkempt attire and dyed hair. This punk was a corporate heir? Knock me over with a feather. “Oh.” I cleared my throat and reached for a five hundred yen plate. “My mother teaches English.”
“Cool.” He smiled a dorky little grin that said he actually did think my mom’s job was cool. “Maybe I can come over some time and she can help me. I suck at English, but I really need to do well since the company has branches in America. What’s your dad do? Mine helps manage the company.”
I looked down at the tamago zushi on my plate. “He was a salaryman at a car company. He worked in America for a while before I was born. That’s how he met my mom. I don’t remember him much…. He died in an accident when I was three.”
“Sorry,” my exuberant companion quietly mumbled, for once losing his bounce.
I shrugged. “You didn’t know. It doesn’t bother me really. I don’t even remember the guy, so it’s not a big deal.”
“I don’t think that’s true.” Somehow this blithe young man was full of insight. “It must have impacted you in some way, his absence. There must be times when it bothers you not to have what everyone always takes for granted. But, we don’t have to talk about this now, if you don’t want to.”
I nodded and grabbed a plate with a nice piece of otoro maki on it.
It was awkwardly quiet as we sat there eating our respective sushi and listening to the soft murmur of the other customers against the backdrop of clinking plates being stacked one on top of the last as innumerable pieces of sushi were consumed.
“Akira-kun, I wanted to ask you…” Tachibana finally broke the silence. “Why were you going to jump?”
I sighed and set down my chopsticks. “Entrance exams are in a few days, and I have to get into a really good junior high so that I can go to an excellent high school so that I can get into Todai . My grandma wants me to go to Nada Junior High in Kobe so that I’ll automatically be able to go to Nada High. Their students have a fifty-fifty chance of being accepted to Tokyo University , so I just have to get in.” Tears started welling up in the corners of my eyes, so I let them fall quietly.
My dining companion stared open-mouthed at me, a piece of inari zushi halfway from his plate to his mouth. His mahogany eyes were wide as he gaped. “Dude. Nada? That all-boys prep school? They only accept two hundred kids a year, and the entrance exam is said to be pure evil. And then you want to get into Todai? It’s impossible! You’d have to be a super brain to even do just okay on that test! People kill themselves from the sheer stress that comes from studying for those exams!” He paused as though something had occurred to him. “Oh. Sorry. That’s probably a sore subject, isn’t it?”
I was silent as I stared down at my empty stack of plates. I wasn’t hungry anymore. My thoughts again began to revolve around my upcoming trial and execution.
“I guess you’re not a super brain, then, are you?” Tachibana chuckled uncomfortably.
“No. I’m not.” I admitted, thoroughly disheartened. “My grades and class rank are only mediocre. I really have to do well on the exam this week for them to even consider me. Unfortunately, I have test anxiety. I’m so afraid of forgetting everything and failing that I forget everything and fail every single time. And so I’m doomed.” I moaned in despair and let my face rest in the palms of my hands. “I’m never going to get into Nada, and my grandma’s going to be furious with me.”
“Hey, Akira-kun?” Tachibana’s cheerful voice drew me from my depressing spiral of thoughts. “You don’t really want to go to Nada, do you?”
“Of course I do!” I almost shouted at him. Hadn’t he been listening? The entire rest of my life depended on my getting into Nada. “If I don’t, my grandmother will disown me!”
“Then your grandma should take the test for you if she wants you to go there so badly.” My new friend grabbed a plate of ebi zushi and set it down before me. “Tell me. Is there any reason other than having a better shot at Todai that you want to get into Nada so bad?”
“What other reasons are there?” I found myself staring blankly into his reddish-brown eyes.
“Uh…well…let me think.” He rolled those henna eyes and laughed. “You could pick a school that’s close or affordable. You could also choose a school because a friend’s going or someone famous graduated from there. There are also sports and culture clubs to think about. Heck, you could just like the campus, or the teachers could be really great. Akira-kun, there’s a lot more than reputation to think about when deciding on a school. So…why do you want to go to Nada?”
I glared down at the shrimp on my plate. “I don’t.” I stuffed the whole thing into my mouth and reached for another tamago zushi plate. “I’m sick of jumping through hoops backwards to please that woman! I’m fed up with studying hours on end! I just want to go to a regular school and join a club like normal kids. I hate having to go to cram school all the time instead of hanging out with friends that I don’t even have!”
I calmed down a little after that and began to chuckle sadly. “That’s how I really feel, but I could never bring myself to disobey my grandma or even just tell her how unhappy I am. I’m not a very strong person.”
Tachibana bit his lip in contemplation for a solid minute before turning back to me. “You know, you could always go to a good school that’s a lot easier to get into. Nada isn’t your only option for a promising future.”
“Do you have any prestigious schools with easy entrance exams in mind? Because I can’t think of any.” Another pathetic sigh escaped my lips.
“Seiya Academy,” he quickly responded.
“That’s a private school.” I shook my head slowly, picking up my now cool cup of tea. “I couldn’t afford to go there, and don’t you have to have a strong letter of recommendation?”
“My aunt is on the board,” the corporate heir/punk sniggered. “I’d have to beg, but I’m sure she could manage something for a buddy of mine. As for the money, you could get a scholarship.”
“I can’t get a scholarship.” I gave an ironic snort and sipped my cold tea.
“Don’t you have any talents?” He returned my volley.
I shook my head.
“Is there anything you’re particularly good at?”
“Nope.” It was hopeless, and I knew it.
“There must be at least one subject in school that you do well in.” Tachibana continued his relentless efforts to find something that didn’t exist.
I was about to deny him a third time when I paused. “English,” I whispered. “I can speak English. I can read and write too. I’m pretty fluent since I learned it right alongside Japanese growing up.”
My new friend smirked toothily. “There’s definitely a scholarship for that. Could you tutor?”
I nodded enthusiastically.
“Give me a minute then.” He pulled out his cell phone, laden with at least ten different straps from various anime and assorted temples. “Hey, Auntie Sonoko. It’s me, Hajime. How are you doing? …I’m glad to hear that. I’m well, thank you. I actually have a bit of a favor I’d like to ask you, if it’s okay, that is. …You see, I have this friend with terrible test anxiety even though he’s pretty bright. He studies all the time and is fluent in English and Japanese. Do you think you could write a letter of recommendation for him? I could give you more details later and you can meet him sometime, if you want. I’m sorry to ask this of you; would it be too much trouble? …No? …Really? You’re the greatest, Auntie Sonoko! Oh, one more thing I almost forgot. Since his dad died when he was young, he’s only got his mom, so money’s a little tight for them. You don’t think he could get a scholarship or something, do you? Maybe something having to do with tutoring English? …Really? …You’re amazing, Auntie Sonoko! I knew I could count on you. Thank you so very much. …Okay. …Tell Uncle Makoto I say hi. …All right. …Bye!
“And scene .” The Tachibana Group’s heir smirked like a cat with a canary in its mouth. “All you have to do is take the exam and you’re in.”
I blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah.” My savior chortled at the flummoxed look on my face. “And the best part is that Seiya’s got a nice elevator system , so you don’t have to stress out over high school entrance exams since you’ll already be automatically eligible to go to Seiya Academy’s High School.”
I suddenly felt a wave of relief wash over me. Everything was taken care of. No more stress. No more worries. All I could do was laugh, and I laughed so hard that I began to cry tears of absolute joy. “Thank you.” I wept, feeling infinitely grateful.
“Don’t mention it.” My benefactor shrugged indifferently. “I’m glad I could help.”
After we finished our meal and Tachibana paid, we took a train back to Nishiouji Station.
As we parted ways at the top of the stairs of the overhead walkway, I bowed deeply to him in gratitude. “Thank you again, Tachibana-san. You have no idea how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I swear to repay your kindness in the future.”
“Again with the bowing and the formality.” My companion chuckled as he fondly rolled his umber orbs. “You can drop the keigo and the humble expressions , you know. You don’t even have to speak politely. Just use plain form for crying out loud, geez.”
“Maybe…eventually, Tachibana…-san.” I grinned nervously and bowed again.
He shook his head and waved over his shoulder as he turned. “Check ya later, Akira-kun.”
“Good night, Tachibana-san.” I smiled brightly as I walked, passing the bookstore and the suit shop. I took a right across the street from the cleaners and crossed the bridge. I continued walking past the clinic and a neat row of vending machines . I looked both ways before crossing the street and came to a stop in front of my canary yellow house.
I unlocked the door and put my shoes in the closet, sliding my feet into my waiting slippers . “Tadaima! ” I called as I strode confidently down the hallway and into the small, yet cozy, kitchen/dining room.
“Welcome home, Honey,” my mother replied in English from her post at the stove. She was preparing a Japanese style meal . “Did you have a good day? You seem…happy.”
I smiled and began setting the table before tentatively replying in English. “I made a friend.”
“Why are you so late?” my grandmother, a very small but powerful matriarch, barked in her usual, severe tone. She was an extremely traditional woman with a stern expression. She refused to adapt to modern times, and so she always dressed in a kimono. Today she was wearing subdued blue and green layers for winter. Her hair was tied tightly in her signature bun. I sometimes mused that the hair in the bun was pulled too taut and that that was the reason she was always so cross.
I bowed shallowly, lowering my head out of respect, and returned to speaking in my much-too-polite Japanese. “Tadaima, Obaasan . You look well today. Please excuse my tardiness, even though there is no excuse.” I feared her wrath above all else.
She snorted lightly and took her seat at the table. “Okaerinasai.”
My mother, Carol, set the remainder of the dishes down before joining us.
Tonight we were having tempura shrimp and vegetables, white rice with an umeboshi in the middle, miso soup, and Beijing cucumbers .
My grandmother complained throughout the entire meal. The vegetables had been fried too long, and the miso was too watery. The rice was too salty (the rice was always too salty) and why in heaven’s name would my mother serve Beijing cucumbers during a traditional Japanese meal? “Are you stupid?! Where is your sense of aesthetics? You Americans have no sense of taste!”
Mom remained deaf to Grandma Ayame’s high-pitched, rapid string of insults. Carol Kimura smiled and enjoyed her meal in peace. After fourteen years, she had learned to tune out her mother-in-law’s complaints. It also helped that my mom didn’t always understand Japanese when it was spoken at lightning speed. I had to wonder how much of what my grandmother said my mother understood.
I understood it all, though, and it pained me. I felt my ears burn with shame. When I was little I remember wishing with all my heart, “Please, make my mom and me Japanese so that grandma will accept us.”
“She’s raving about my cooking again, isn’t she?” My young mother turned to me and laughed with an earnest smile. She was a strong woman.
“She doesn’t like it when we speak in English.” I whispered nervously, praying to whatever higher being that might have been listening. “Please don’t let her yell at me. Don’t let her get angry.”
Thankfully, when my mother opened her mouth, out came Japanese with a pretty Tokyo accent. “Akira was telling me that he made a friend today. Were you out with your new friend, Akira? Is that why you were so late coming home?”
I sighed in relief. I had my chance to tell them about my plans for school. “Yes. We met at school today. He’s from a different class, but we went for a snack at Kyoto Station together.”
“And what kind of hooligan have you befriended?” Grandma Ayame snapped, hitting the nail on the head. “You don’t have time for friends, you stupid boy. You should be home studying. How do you expect to get into Nada if you slack off all the time?”
“Mother, Akira works very hard every day,” the rebellious daughter-in-law cut in in her soft, flowery Japanese. “I think that it’s not a bad idea if he goes out with friends sometimes.”
“That is a stupid American idea. It has no place here in Japan,” the strict dictator of the house decreed. “If he wants to follow silly foreigner logic, he can go to America and never return. He doesn’t belong here in the first place. My son never should have¬—”
“—His name is Tachibana Hajime.” I ignored my grandmother’s harsh words and cut into the conversation. It was a bold move. I was never bold, so I had everyone’s attention as they both stared at me, shocked. “He’s the heir to the Tachibana Group, and he told me that he’s going to be attending Seiya Academy. His aunt is on the board, and she’s going to write a strong letter of recommendation for me. If I choose to go there, I will also receive a large scholarship to pay for the cost. If you would allow me, I would like to request permission to attend Seiya.”
“That sounds great, Akira!” My mom exploded in a great fit of English and excitement.
I turned to my grandmother for the final say.
She glared pensively at me as she weighed the advantages that could be gained through a friendship with a corporate heir. “Many wealthy children attend this school, right? And the teachers are very good, yes?”
“Yes, Obaasan,” I gulped, holding my breath for her reply.
She nodded. “I suppose Seiya Academy will be satisfactory. It would have been expensive to ship you off to Kobe for school if you went to Nada. Perhaps this is better.”
I sighed softly in relief, but not loud enough for her to hear me. A lead weight had been lifted off my shoulders. My shackles had been unlocked. I was free.
“Akira,” my jailor barked.
I was greatly confused since my grandmother sounded angry.
“You are running late. Hurry up and eat so that you can go to cram school. You’re such an idiot that you’ll never pass the exam to Seiya unless you study.”
I nodded and started shoveling food into my mouth. It seemed that my torment was not yet over, but at least it was a good day to be alive.
That Saturday, I took the train to Kyoto Station and walked to Seiya Academy. I gulped as I looked up at the imposing institution that loomed in front of me.
There was a wall of dark, orangey-red bricks around the grounds, broken only by the four gates—one in each cardinal direction. They were made of thick, black wrought iron bars. The plaque to the right side of the main gate bore the appellation of the establishment in large black characters.
I entered and stared at the giant, manicured topiary statues and foliage lining the sides of the walkways. I was out of my element.
The campus was divided into a high school on the east side and a junior high on the west. If cut right down the middle, the school grounds would be completely symmetrical. Both the junior high and the high school looked exactly the same, with three-story high main buildings and little wings off to the side housing the gym, storage, club rooms, and assorted specialized classrooms. The buildings made a peninsula out of the sports field in the middle of the individual campuses, surrounding the large dirt rectangle on three of its four sides.
I made my way to the main building of the junior high campus and found my assigned classroom. I took my seat and neatly positioned my pencils and eraser on the desk in front of me. I fidgeted as I waited for the moment of truth to arrive, readjusting the spacing between my pencils three times.
Five minutes before the exam was scheduled to start, in walked a familiar-looking, orange-haired hooligan. Tachibana took his seat next to me and grinned. “Ohayou , Akira-kun. Fancy running into you here.”
“Ohayou gozaimasu, Tachibana-san.” I nodded politely in place of a bow. “If I may ask, how can you be so calm? You’re taking a test to decide the course of your life, after all.”
The nonchalant fellow shrugged flippantly. “It’s nothing to have a panic attack over. It’s practically in the bag. Taking the test is just a formality.” He then added after observing my stressed state: “For you too. Don’t worry about it; you’re already in.” He smiled at me and winked. “Besides, even if you weren’t, you’ve got this. All you ever do is study, so this will be a breeze for you.”
“But I have test anxiety. I’ll forget how to write my own name as soon as I look at the exam,” I protested weakly.
“There aren’t that many different ways to write ‘Akira’,” he teased.
“I can think of ten,” I sighed.
“Then pick a couple and maybe one of them will be right,” my new friend laughed. “And as far as the test answers go, it doesn’t matter, so you don’t have to be nervous. You could just pick C and still get in, so chill. Like I said, you’ve got this.” He winked and got out his own writing utensils.
I was about to open my mouth to argue, but the proctor called for attention and started handing out the tests.
“Sooo, how do you think you did?” Tachibana shoved me playfully after our day of test-taking was over.
“Not terrible.” I smiled in relief. “I should thank you. What you said before calmed me down quite a bit, so I could actually remember some of the stuff I’ve been studying furiously the past seven years of my life.”
“Man, I bet you aced it, Akira-kun.” My rebellious punk of a friend chuckled his bright, clear laugh. “I shouldn’t’ve encouraged you. We are competing for test ranks after all. You probably wiped the floor with me.”
“I doubt it.” I found myself able to laugh freely.
“Hey, you got a cell?” He paused at the front gate and pulled out his own phone with many dangling charms. “We should switch digits, if you do. I’d like to hang out more.”
“Grandma says I’m only supposed to use it for emergencies.” I shifted uncomfortably, weighing the pros and the cons. “But, you know, my mom is the one who pays the bills, so Grandma really doesn’t have to know.”
“That’s the spirit!” Tachibana urged, popping a piece of gum into his mouth as we exchanged information. “Say, which characters do you use for your name ? Kimura is written with ‘tree’ and ‘village,’ right? Just the usual way?”
“Yeah. Akira is with the character for ‘bright.’ It’s Tachibana like the citrus fruit, right? And is your first name written like ‘begin’?” I picked out the characters from the pull-up menu in my phone.
“Actually, it’s written with the first character in ‘healthy’, even though they’re pronounced differently. It means ‘origin.’” I could tell he didn’t like his name from the tone of his voice.
As I was finishing typing in his number, I noticed that Tachibana seemed to be looking at something over my shoulder.
“Hey, do you have some time to hang out now, or do you have to head home?”
“I have a little time.” I blinked. “Why?”
“I want to introduce you to some of my friends.” He waved enthusiastically at the approaching group of people.
There was a girl with long, dark hair down to her shoulder blades. She wore a serious expression and the school uniform from “The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya” complete with orange ribbons.
“The girl is Shihoudani Kasumi. She’s an avid cosplayer , if you hadn’t noticed,” Tachibana informed me as the pack slowly made their way over to us.
To the right of the Haruhi impersonator was a boy with black hair and a thoughtful grin. He was wearing regular clothes, but he somehow looked extremely similar to the Shihoudani girl. Their eyebrows arched in exactly the same manner.
“The guy next to Kasumi-chan is her younger twin brother, Shihoudani Kazuki. He’s in the chess club at their school. Apparently he’s really good, but I don’t know anything about chess, so I couldn’t tell you.”
There was one more boy with them who looked rather scary. He had his hair bleached blonde, and he was really tan. He glared intensely, eyes in little slits.
“The scary one is Nikaidou Shigeki. He plays soccer. I know he looks frightening, but that’s only because he’s got his game face on. He’s actually a really fun guy once you get to know him.”
I nodded, still extremely intimidated.
“Yo, Tachibana.” The daunting Nikaidou Shigeki grinned like a man-eating shark. His teeth were very white and pointy. He looked like a vampire. “Who’s the foreigner?”
“Hello!” The male Shihoudani twin started speaking to me in broken English. “My name Kazuki. Naisu to meet yu.”
“My name is Kasumi.” The serious-looking girl smiled delicately. She spoke a lot more fluently than her brother, even though her inflection was weird. “Do…you eat sushi?”
“Yes, I do.” I smiled and replied politely in my soft, formal Japanese. “Quite often, actually. My favorite is ika nigiri style , though, I like maki rolls too.”
At this they all gave a start.
“His Japanese is pretty good.” Nikaidou nodded in approval before addressing me. “How long you been studying?”
“Guys!” Tachibana sighed in embarrassment at his friends. “He’s not a foreigner. He’s Japanese just like any of you. This is Kimura Akira. We go to the same school.”
Hearing this revelation, the Shihoudani twins were quite embarrassed, but Nikaidou seemed unaffected.
“It’s okay.” I blushed as I fended off the twins’ apologies. “I’m quite used to it. I’m only half Japanese, so I get this a lot.”
“A hafu , huh?” Nikaidou’s black eyes bore holes through me as he stared in open interest. “I’ve never seen one up close before.”
“He’s not an animal,” Tachibana scoffed, pushing his friend away as he stepped protectively in front of me.
“We should all go get burgers! How’s that sound? We could go to the McDonald’s at Kyoto Station.” Kasumi tried to clear the air, tugging her brother’s sleeve to make him follow her lead.
“Yeah!” Kazuki quickly responded to his sister’s cue with much enthusiasm. “Do you like burgers, Kimura-kun?”
“I could go for a milkshake.” I shrugged, looking over at Tachibana to see if it was okay.
“That’s a great idea, Kasumi-chan.” The corporate heir praised the cosplayer’s quick thinking. “What better way to get acquainted than to go devour the flesh of dead animals deep-fried in grease?”
“That’s gross, Hajime-kun.” Kasumi turned on her heel and started dragging her brother behind as she forged the path to McDonald’s.
“She’s a vegetarian,” Tachibana explained with a smirk.
I nodded and began to follow after the others.
“So you’re really Japanese, huh?” The white-haired soccer star fell in step beside me and began an onslaught of questions purely out of curiosity.
“Shigeki!” My protector glared down his insensitive friend. “You’re being rude.”
“It’s all right.” I smiled sheepishly. “I don’t mind. I’m sure he doesn’t mean any harm.”
Tachibana pursed his lips and scrunched up his brow. “If you’re sure.” I could tell he detested the way I was being treated.
I was used to it, though. I was always treated as a foreigner, so I wasn’t particularly uncomfortable answering questions about my heritage and upbringing as we sat together in a booth at McDonald’s.
“So you’ve really lived here all of your life?” Shigeki asked for a third time as he stuffed a Mega Mac into his mouth.
“I’ve never left the country.” I shrugged, sipping at my banana milkshake.
“That’s really interesting.” The quirky Kasumi cocked her head to the side as she munched on her sweet corn and side salad. “I’ve never really thought about international marriage before, though it’s getting to be more common nowadays. How did your parents meet?”
“My mom worked as a translator for this company in America that my dad got transferred to. They met through work.” I took a bite of my apple pie.
“I’d like to marry a foreigner,” Tachibana commented through a mouthful of teriyaki burger. “An American model or actress or something. My parents would never let me, though.”
“Yeah,” Kazuki laughed, nearly choking on his Ebi Fillet-O . “You’ll be stuck sorting through mountains of portfolios, slowly wading through the pictures and resumes of every eligible, well-bred, high class young lady in Japan.”
At this, the boy with looks reminiscent of a ganguro snorted. “Think of all the miai he’ll have to attend! I don’t envy you, Tachibana.”
“They say it’s best to marry a Kyoto girl,” the female Shihoudani interjected. “I’m a Kyoto girl born and raised. You should marry me, Hajime-kun.”
“He’s way out of your league,” the twin brother snickered and was promptly smacked upside the head.
“I would, except I was kind of already planning on marrying Akira,” my hooligan of a benefactor announced in a voice that was completely serious.
I had been sipping slowly at my shake at the time, listening to the amusing discussion. Then I found myself suddenly choking, doing my best not to spit regurgitated, liquefied bananas and ice cream into Kazuki’s face.
My name had lost its honorific. I was now as good as this Tachibana’s own brother, friend from the cradle years, or, maybe in this case, lover. And we were getting married. How nice.
I wasn’t quite sure how my grandmother would react to this news. She could either be thrilled that I was marrying a corporate heir, or she could be disgusted that I was marrying a man. Perhaps there was a third option where she was disgusted, glad to be rid of me, and thrilled that my husband was rich. I was actually betting on door number three.
I then noticed that the others were staring at me. I blinked and looked down, shrinking into a tiny little Akira ball. I hated being stared at.
“I’m joking.” The ringleader laughed, trying to encourage the others to do so as well. “It’s a joke.”
“Oh!” Kasumi giggled awkwardly, obviously faking it. “You just sounded so serious.”
The other two offered weak chuckles and forced grins.
“So, is Seiya Academy your first choice school?” I broke the uncomfortable silence, stealing one of my punk companion’s fries.
“My parents want me to go. I’m getting a scholarship for soccer, and they have a pretty good team.” Nikaidou shrugged, slipping back into his easy-going mood.
“They have a great chess team,” the male Shihoudani remarked, quickly jumping into the conversation. “I’m not getting a scholarship or anything, but I really wanted a school with good chess opportunities.”
“I’m not particular.” Kasumi tilted her head to the side like a puppy as she considered: which to eat first? The last bite of sweet corn or the last bite of side salad? “I’ll go where Kazuki goes. It’ll be easier to go to school and walk home together that way. Anywhere is fine.”
“It won’t be fine when I have a girlfriend to walk home with,” the younger twin pouted, sticking out his bottom lip like a foot waiting to trip an unsuspecting passerby. “I won’t have you butting in.”
“You won’t have a girlfriend,” the older sister stated flatly. Then she paused and looked curiously at me. “You don’t have a girlfriend yet, do you, Akira-kun?” She batted her long eyelashes twice. And then her lips parted in a Cheshire Cat grin.
I looked away, unable to look at her as she gazed so intensely at me. I whispered, “No, but I think I’m engaged to Tachibana-san.”
This time they laughed. All but Kasumi. She just smiled, making me feel like a canary about to be eaten by that grinning feline.