A Well-Lived Life 2 - Book 7 - SakurakoChapter 58: Land Of The Rising Sun, Part IV free porn video
July 3, 1994, Oguni, Yamagata Prefecture, Japan
It was raining hard when I woke up on Sunday morning, which meant I wasn’t going to be able to run, and would likely have the afternoon free as had happened one other day. Sakurako came to the cottage to ensure I was awake, even though I’d been waking up automatically at sunrise for the past week. When she left, I did my warm-up exercises, practiced my kata, then did a modified version of my warm-up exercises to make up for not being able to run. I bathed and dressed before Sakurako returned with my breakfast.
As had become the norm, when I finished eating, we drank tea together and talked.
“May I stay?” she asked.
“Stay?”
“It’s raining, so you’ll be in your room. I can bring my books and study while you meditate, if it’s OK with you.”
“As long as it’s OK with your grandfather.”
She smiled, “It is. And with my grandmother. I had to ask both.”
I nodded, “I really don’t know much about your grandmother. I don’t see her except for when meals are served, or the day I was washing the floor mats in the house. May I ask when she and your grandfather spend time together?”
“They have breakfast together. After lunch, when you come out to work, they go to a private room to drink tea and spend time together. And of course, they share a bedroom as married couples do. Sensei Robert comes late in the morning, goes home for a time after lunch, then returns. It’s very similar.”
“I’ve never seen his wife. Is she Japanese?”
“No, she’s from Vietnam. He met her during the war.”
“Why don’t we ever see her?”
“She doesn’t like to be with groups of people in social situations. She gets very nervous. I visit her on Saturdays on the way home from school. She’s also very nice. Grandmother often goes to visit her in the mornings after her time with Grandfather.”
“Do you know how old she is?”
“I think she is around forty. She was sixteen when she met Robert-san.”
“Robert is quite a bit older than she is, then. I’d guess, as a Major in 1971, he had to be around 32. The age difference is close to that of my parents.”
“Your father is much older than your mother?”
“Nineteen years, though she didn’t marry until 26, unlike, uh, what is Sensei Robert’s wife’s name?”
“Huong.”
“Do they have children?”
“One. A son. He’s living in Fukushima and works as an engineer at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant.”
“How old is he?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but he must be about your age; perhaps a few years younger. He was born in Vietnam, not long after Robert was first sent there. I think around 1968, but I’m not certain.”
“When did he graduate from university?”
“Three years ago, I think.”
“Then he’s probably about 25,” I said. “Is he married?”
“Yes, to a Japanese girl. They have a new baby.”
“I didn’t know Sensei Robert had a grandson!”
“Granddaughter, but yes. About a month before you arrived.”
“Does Huong work?”
“Yes, she’s a nurse for a doctor who mainly works in Yamagata city, but has an office in Oguni.”
We finished our tea and Sakurako cleared away the tray, and returned with her school books. I was somewhat surprised to see she had changed into a track suit, as I’d never seen her dressed in any way except her school uniform, a floral-print dress, or the simple kimono she wore to serve meals.
“Casual clothes?” I asked.
“I asked for permission! You are wearing your red «道着» (dōgi), which I know is more comfortable than blue jeans or slacks you usually wear when you are not exercising.”
“Why do you need permission?” I asked.
“My grandparents prefer I dress properly and traditionally in public. This is what I like to wear in my room, or when I am doing things in the house. But when I go outside, I put on my dress, except for going to school. Well, at school when we play sports, I wear clothing like this, but in the school colors.”
“Do you like the way you’re required to dress?”
“Actually, yes. I have a dozen pretty dresses, plus two formal kimono, and I think you’ve seen all of them. When I turn twenty, I’ll get a proper adult kimono.”
“A «furisode»?” I grinned.
“Yes! How do you know?”
“From a friend of mine in Chicago. The granddaughter of the Japanese Sensei, Ichirou. She received one for her eighteenth birthday. Her grandfather bowed to the Western notion of eighteen instead of twenty.”
“You know much more than you let on! And you know what the «furisode» signifies?”
“That you are single and eligible for marriage, at least traditionally.”
“They have taught you well. Why do you hide how much you know?”
“The topic never came up!” I chuckled. “This is the first time we talked about clothing.”
“I think you would make a good Japanese, for a «外国人»! (gaikokujin)” she laughed softly.
“Is it possible for a «gaikokujin» to become truly Japanese?”
“No; not really. You would always be the outsider, much as Robert-san is. He speaks Japanese well, has a Japanese religion, and acts like a Japanese man most of the time. But he is still a «外国人» (gaikokujin). My brother will marry only a Japanese girl because he doesn’t want to deal with the issues of a non-Japanese wife and half-Japanese children.”
“Pardon me for being blunt, but that sounds a bit racist.”
“In Japan, cultural purity is important. Without it, society would descend into chaos. We also don’t allow many permanent immigrants, and very few can become citizens. The government recently allowed people from Peru and Brazil who are of Japanese ancestry to immigrate. From what they taught in my class at school, I think less than 1% of the population of Japan is non-Japanese.”
“Wow.”
“Japan was a closed society for a long time before the American warships arrived to force us to trade with the outside world, and once again allow foreigners onto Japanese soil. Attitudes take a long time to change.”
“Your grandfather doesn’t treat me as a «gaikokujin», with the exception of needing a translator.”
“You are a «空手家» («karateka»), and have shown him proper respect. He returns it. You are, in a way, brothers. The country you are from is unimportant if you follow the proper ways. I know from Grandmother that he was very impressed with you, and especially your willingness to visit the temple. Before you leave, I think you’ll be asked to join him at a Shinto shrine to honor our ancestors. If he does that, then you are completely accepted, despite being a «外国人»(gaikokujin).”
And THAT reminded me of how Don Joseph had accepted me and treated me, despite me not being Italian. There was a common thread between them; more than one, in fact. Closed communities, focused on ethnic purity, but allowing outsiders who showed proper respect to enter into the community, albeit not as a full member. Once again, a lesson early in life had paid off much later.
“This has been an interesting talk, but I believe you need to do school work! And I need to read and meditate.”
She smiled. I arranged my cushions in the corner as I had before and sat down. Sakurako pulled a cushion over, unfolded a small reading table, and knelt at my feet to read her textbook, reminding me VERY much of the way Anala had acted around me, when I’d allowed her to do so. We stayed that way until I had to go for my training session, moving only to get water or tea, which she had brought with her when she’d returned.
“Do you remember me telling you about the strange deaths in Matsumoto in Nagano prefecture?” Sensei Robert asked when I walked into the dojo.
“Yes, did they find the cause?”
“Sarin gas. A nerve agent.”
“An accidental leak?”
He shook his head slowly, “Japan doesn’t manufacture any chemical weapons. It has to be terrorism.”
“Did anyone claim responsibility?”
“No. And that’s the truly frightening part. A madman, or madmen, who keep their mouths shut.”
“Are there any leads?”
“Not that the police are speaking of.”
We took our places at the front of the dojo to wait for Sensei Hiro to come in. I wondered if I should call home, but the deaths had occurred six days previously, and in a place far from where I was. That said, I was sure the report would make the news in the US, and would probably cause some serious concern. I had a strong feeling this met the ‘emergency’ criteria for using the phone.
“I should probably call home,” I said quietly to Sensei Robert. “Just to reassure them.”
“I think that makes sense. You can make the call before lunch.”
After the training session, I went back to my room to bathe and change, then went back to the house, where Sensei Robert brought me to the phone, explained how to dial an international call, then stepped out of the room. It was just after 10:00pm in Chicago, and Kara answered.
“Hi, Honey,” I said.
“Steve! How are you?”
“I’m good. You’re probably going to hear about a terrorist attack in Japan with sarin gas, but it was several days ago and very far away from where I am. They just announced what the chemical was today. I wanted to let you know I was safe.”
“How many people died?”
“I think six or seven, and quite a few were made sick.”
“Who did it?”
“Nobody is claiming responsibility. I’m curious, how hard is it to make sarin?”
“I could do it in my lab. Given my job, I could get the necessary precursor chemicals. And I have access to the necessary equipment.”
“That’s scary! I think I’ll keep you on my good side! Anyway, I just wanted to call and say I’m OK.”
“How are you doing?”
“Things are really going well. Would you let the other adults know I called to say I’m safe?”
“Jess is still awake if you want to talk to her.”
“Yes, please.”
There was a moment’s silence.
“Hi, Tiger! We all miss you!”
“Hi, Babe. I miss all of you as well. I just called to let you all know I was safe. There was a terrorist attack, but it’s pretty far from where I am.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, Babe. I just wanted to let you know I’m OK. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Tiger. Here’s Kara.”
“I love you, Snuggle Bear.”
“I love you, Honey! I’ll see you guys in two weeks.”
After I hung up, I made my way to the dining room and we had our normal lunch. After lunch I checked with Hiroshi who said there were no indoor chores for me to do, and added that his grandfather had said I could spend the time as I saw fit. Given that it was pouring rain, I didn’t have many options, so I went back to the cottage. I hadn’t had any time to read for pleasure, and figured this was a good time to finish the Swedish crime novel I’d started on the plane. I curled up on my pillows in the corner, and started reading.
I didn’t get very far before the door slid open and Sakurako entered with a tray containing a teapot and two porcelain teacups. Usually, she brought plain, white cups with no handles, but these had floral images on the sides and looked more like what I would have called ‘good china’ back home.
“May I bring you tea?”
“I believe you already have,” I grinned.
“May I stay?”
“If you have permission, yes.”
“I do. What are you reading?”
“A Swedish detective story.”
“In Swedish?”
“Yes.”
“Could you read some aloud so I could hear it?”
“Sure,” I said, selecting a passage.
«Polisbilen väntade på honom vid avtagsvägen mot Kadesjö. Peters hade klivat ur och betraktade en hare som skuttade from och tillbaka på en åker.»
“Your voice sounds so different when you read that!”
“I think I still have something of a «Göteborska» accent. Göteborg, or Gothenburg, is the city I lived in.”
“What did that say?”
“The police car waited for him on the exit road to Kadesjö. Peters had climbed out and watched a rabbit scurrying back and forth across a field.“
“May I see the words?”
“Sure,” I said.
She came to sit next to me and I showed her the passage, then read it aloud again.
“It’s pronounced quite differently from English.”
“Yes, but many of the words are quite similar. Take ‘«polisbilen»’ as an example. It’s ‘police car’ in English, but it could be ‘police automobile’ which would be very, very close to ‘«polisbil»’. In Swedish, the article is tacked onto the end of the noun, so it’s ‘«polisbilen»’ which is ‘the police car’.
“Or take ‘«skuttade»’ as another example. I translated it as ‘scurrying’ but it could easily be translated as ‘scoot’, as in ‘watched a rabbit scoot back and forth’. The ‘-de’ ending is like ‘-ing’ in English, so if you remove that, the two words are ‘«scutta»’ and ‘scoot’. They’re almost identical.”
As I said that, I noticed our shoulders were touching, and Sakurako’s hair, which was down, rather than in a bun as it usually was in her dresses or kimono, draped onto my chest. She had a floral scent which reminded me of cherry blossoms I’d smelled on a trip to Washington, DC when I was in fourth grade. In just under three weeks, it was the first physical contact I’d had with her. In fact, it was the first physical contact I’d had with anyone except for shaking hands with Hiroshi and Sensei Robert when I’d arrived in Japan. Well, minus the sparring, but that was a very different thing.
A very interesting thought crept into my mind. When had I ever gone, since I was fourteen, for an extended period of time with no hugs, no kisses, and no physical contact? I certainly couldn’t think of one. I’d expected that to happen on my trip to Sweden, but Pia had changed that after only three days in the country! Even early on with Melanie, when she and I had been limiting our ‘appointments’ to about once a month, I’d see her and we’d hug, or I’d get hugs from my sister and Jennifer, or Larry and I would shake hands.
The VERY interesting thing was, for some reason, I didn’t miss it and wasn’t craving it. Again, that weird portal or wormhole had changed the universe, and in some not so subtle ways. I had begun to think of the business of my life as a distraction from REAL life, once again, something both Michelle and Father Basil had been trying to tell me, and something I’d heard from Yoshiro. And, in a sense, from the women in my life who were telling me I needed more ‘me’ time.
I’d had all the ‘me time’ I could handle here, and it was changing me in fundamental ways. The opening verse of the Queen song, Bohemian Rhapsody popped into my mind...
Is this the real life?Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide
No escape from reality
Open your eyes
Look up to the skies and see
I’m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy
Because I’m easy come, easy go
A little high, little low
Anyway the wind blows, doesn’t really matter to me, to me
Was this the ‘real life’? Or was I living some weird Japanese fantasy? At some point, relatively soon, I’d be back on a 747 which would whisk me back through the wormhole to the ‘reality’ of Chicago. But what WAS reality? It wasn’t just the world around me, of that much I was certain of. I knew, deep down, Elizabeth was wrong. There WAS more to the universe than physics and biochemistry! Far more! I just had to ‘open my eyes ... and see’, which is exactly what Yoshiro had said.
“Steve?” Sakurako said, shaking my shoulder.
“Sorry, I was woolgathering!”
“What?”
“Trying to collect my thoughts and figure out the lessons everyone is trying to teach me. Sorry.”
“You just seemed like you were in a trance of some kind.”
The ‘Zone’! I’d put myself in my ‘Zone’, but not while programming! And I’d been able to focus with clarity on the issues, which was exactly what happened when I was programming.
“That usually only happens when I’m working on a computer program. I think the entirety of my short experience here has fundamentally changed me.”
She got up and went to pour some tea. She came back and handed me my cup, which I accepted with two hands. She poured some for herself, then came to kneel at my feet, rather than sit next to me.
“And soon you’ll leave.”
I nodded, “Yes. One way or the other, I absolutely have to go home to my family, my friends, and my work.”
“I’m going to miss you very much,” she said.
“And I’ll miss you. We could write, you know? I have a friend in Sweden who writes me every month, and I write back. We’ve been doing it for fourteen years, now. I sent a postcard to her when I sent the ones home to my family.”
“I’d like that. Thank you for allowing me to be part of your life while you are here.”
“Thank you for all the help you’ve given me.”
“You’re welcome! Would you like to listen to some music? I have a, I think you call it a ‘boom’ box?”
“Japanese music?” I asked.
She laughed, “I could bring some Japanese music if you wanted, but my favorite group is ABBA!”
I laughed, hard, “ABBA? Seriously?”
“Is there something wrong with that?”
“No, not at all! That’s my favorite group as well. They’re from Sweden.”
“I have a Betamax tape of a TV special from their tour here in 1980. That was just after I was born. Did you ever see them?”
“Yes, in Gothenburg in 1979. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to listen to music.”
“Did anyone tell you not to?”
I shook my head, “No. It was simply mentioned there were no computers, or TVs, and the telephone was only for emergencies.”
She laughed, “No TV in HERE. There is a small one in my room to which I have my Betamax player connected. I’m permitted to watch, so long as I have my school work and chores done. Grandfather doesn’t watch television, but sometimes my grandmother watches with me. Hiroshi has a very nice TV in his room. And a very nice stereo.”
I chuckled, “Your brother lied to me.”
“Perhaps, but it was for your own good. And I’m sure you understand now why he would do that.”
“Because they are distractions.”
“Yes, and other than this afternoon, how much time have you spent literally having nothing to do?”
“One other afternoon when it rained hard,” I said, then laughed, “Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop!”
“Meaning you need to keep busy? Is that from the Christian Bible?”
Liesl
- 03.06.2021
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