A Well-Lived Life 2 - Book 7 - SakurakoChapter 64: Land Of The Rising Sun, Part X free porn video
July 19, 1994, Oguni, Yamagata Prefecture, Japan
It was my final full day in Japan, the time seemingly having flown by. Thirty-four days later, it seemed as if I had just arrived. I’d be leaving very early the next morning, so this would be my last day of activities, and it was going to be very different. I enjoyed my run with the three other students, smiling at the sight of Mitsuo wearing my Pittsburgh Penguins cap while I sported a Cincinnati Reds cap.
“Are you ready?” Sakurako asked when I finished dressing after my shower.
“I am. Is there anything special I need to know?”
“No,” she laughed. “You’ve eaten breakfast every day since you arrived!”
“Yes, but never with your grandparents!”
“Just be polite, Steve-chan! Bring the gifts, and we’ll go have breakfast as a family.”
“How often does this happen?” I asked.
“Usually, once a week, if we do not have a guest like you.”
“I’m sorry I interfered,” I said.
“You did not. You are an honored guest. And besides, I think I like having breakfast with you more!”
I went to one of the cabinets and took the two small gifts, and we went to the main house. Sakurako led me to a small room with a table set for five. The others joined us almost immediately, and Sakurako and her grandmother set food out for everyone.
“«Itadakimasu»,” Sensei Hiro said, and we began eating.
“Thank you for your hospitality, and allowing me to join you for this breakfast.”
“You are welcome,” Sensei Hiro replied. “You honor us with your presence in our humble home.”
“You are too kind,” I replied, completing the proper cultural exchange.
At the end of the meal, I presented Sensei Hiro and his wife with gifts, regretting that I hadn’t known them better to select more personal items. When I gave Emiko her gift, she said the only two words she spoke to me for the entire 35 days - ‘«ありがとうございます»’ (arigatou gozaimasu), and I said my only two words to her, ‘«Dō itashimashite»’.
My most severe regret was not having something to give Sakurako from America which was befitting our relationship. In fact, I hadn’t even known she existed before I arrived, which meant I had brought nothing for her. I’d given Hiroshi his gift the previous afternoon - a Chicago Cubs baseball cap - at the same time I’d given Mitsuo my Penguins cap. I’d solved the problem with Sakurako by asking for Hiroshi’s help. He’d made the purchase for me.
When breakfast was finished, and we’d had tea, Sakurako walked with me to the door of the house. I asked her to come with me to the cottage, which she did. I went to the cabinet and took out an expensive silk scarf which I handed to her with both hands.
“It’s beautiful!” she said. “Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.”
She tied it around her neck, and it provided a perfect accent for her school uniform. Hiroshi had assured me she could wear it without any trouble from the school.
“I’ll wear it, always, and think of you.”
“Will you allow me to take your photograph? I have my camera.”
“You’ve never used it!” she said.
“I felt it was inappropriate. But I would like to take your picture, please.”
She smiled and nodded, and I retrieved my camera from the cabinet. We walked out to the garden and I asked her to sit on the bench. I snapped several pictures, then we went back into the cottage so I could put the camera away. I did so, then took her by both hands.
“«Aishiteru», Sakurako-chan,” I said softly.
“«愛してるわ» (aishiteru wa), Steve-chan.”
“Will I see you in the morning?”
“Yes. I will make box breakfasts for you and Hiroshi to eat on the train. You will get lunch in Tokyo before you take the Narita Express.”
We smiled, I kissed her nose, and she left me standing there, feeling both extreme happiness and a severe sense of loss. The chances I’d see her again after the brief meeting in the morning were near zero. She had provided unexpected guidance and companionship, and had helped me tremendously. I owed her more than I could ever hope to repay, and hoped, somehow, in this life, I could see her again.
After a few minutes, I took my binder and pencil and went to the bench by the stream. I spent the full two hours of my meditation time writing in my journal, reflecting on everything that had happened in the past month while it was still fresh in my mind, and while the «kami» of Japan surrounded me. When it was time for my final morning training session, I put the binder away, changed into my gi, and walked to the house and into the dojo.
When that final morning session ended, I bathed and changed my clothes, then went to have my last lunch. I knew I’d miss these daily lunches, despite the fact that I mostly sat quietly and listened to the translated conversations. This truly wasn’t my world, and I was, in one sense, a spectator. But it really wasn’t that simple, as I was part of the group of «karateka» who gathered around our 9th Dan «shihan», which made us all brothers, with all the duties and privileges that came with that position.
When lunch finished, Sensei Robert walked out with me.
“It’s your last day of chores, so I have something special for you to do.”
“Anything!” I replied.
“Come with me,” he said with a grin.
We walked around behind the house and he pointed, “First, I need you to sand the new planks on this deck. Next, paint those new rails on that fence. And finally,” he started laughing, “wax my car.”
I laughed hard, “If you’re serious, I’m going to have a hell of a funny story to tell when I go home tomorrow!”
He pulled a jar from his pocket, “I have the wax for my Toyota right here. You’ll find the rest of what you need in the shed!”
“I love it!” I said, still laughing hard. “But isn’t there house painting, too?”
“The house doesn’t need any paint, so the other three will have to do. Get going, you only have about four hours before your final class!”
I spent the next four hours doing exactly as he’d said, laughing most of the time. Hiroshi had come to see me and had a good laugh, saying he’d had no idea Sensei Robert had planned this! I had just finished putting the second coat of wax on the Toyota (yes, the actual second coat, I wasn’t Biff Tannen, after all!), when it was time to clean up and put on my gi for the final karate session.
As I walked into the dojo, I prepared myself for whatever happened. I didn’t think I’d come up short, but there was no way to know, as this was a judgment of my character and leadership skills, and I was the last person to be able to evaluate myself in that regard. I thought I was good, and so did some others back in Chicago, but the only person whose opinion counted was my 9th Dan «shihan», Hisakawa Hiro. I took my usual place next to Sensei Robert, and waited, half expecting him to ask me to show him ‘wax on; wax off’!
“How’s the car,” he asked quietly with a grin.
“You could shave or put on makeup using the hood as a mirror,” I said.
“I’m not surprised,” he said.
“Thanks for giving me a way to have some real fun when I get home.”
“You’re welcome.”
Sensei Hiro came in carrying a new black belt and I uttered a small prayer of thanks to the «kami» of this dojo. After we bowed, I was summoned to the front of the class. I stood facing Sensei Hiro, with Sensei Robert at my side. I saw the back of the belt contained the same Japanese characters, stitched in red, that were on Sensei Jim’s 6th Dan belt - «道場 久川 裕» - signifying the dojo of Hisakawa Hiro. If this belt were simply a replacement of my current 3rd Dan belt, I would wear it proudly, displaying the name of my «shihan».
“This is an important day in the history of this dojo,” Sensei Hiro said, with Sensei Robert translating. “It is no small thing to confer the honor of «錬士» (Renshi) on a member of our dojo. Steve has achieved the position of Polished Instructor, and I grant him a full teaching license as «師範» («shihan»).”
I was stunned. If what he said were true, and it had to be, then the belt I was about to receive would have a single gold stripe, signifying I was «godan»! I waited, breathlessly for him to continue.
“As «師範» («shihan»),” he continued. “He has the full right to operate his own dojo independently, but always as a member of our family. I now present him with his belt, which has the single gold stripe of «五段» (godan), the 5th Dan.”
Deep breaths kept the adrenaline from overwhelming me. I felt the signs of a short-circuit, but battled them, and was able to take one step forward and bow without keeling over. I removed my old belt and handed it, with both hands to Sensei Robert. Sensei Hiro handed me the new belt, and I responded in English.
“I am not worthy of this great honor, but I accept it and will wear it proudly as a representative of Dojo Hisakawa Hiro!”
I tied my new belt, then bowed again to Sensei Hiro. I turned and bowed to Sensei Robert, and finally, to the entire class. I retook my place, and Sensei Robert moved next to me. A moment later, Sensei Hiro called me to lead the class. When class finished, it seemed every one of the thirty students wanted to congratulate me and say a word or two. By the time we finished, we were over thirty minutes late for dinner.
Dinner conversation focused on the results of the World Cup, which had opened in Chicago two days after I left for Japan. Brazil had defeated Italy 3-2 on penalty kicks to win the tournament. The US had been knocked out in the first knockout round, but the Swedes had made it to the semi-finals, and had won their game over Bulgaria to secure third place.
I heard how Japan had failed to qualify in what Hideki called «ドーハの悲劇» (Dōha no higeki), which Hiroshi translated as ‘Agony of Doha’. They had played Iraq to a 2-2 draw, and had they won the game, they would have made the World Cup for the first time, but instead, their arch-rivals, South Korea, qualified instead. They described how Japan had led 2-1 when they entered ‘stoppage time’, and Iraq had scored on a corner kick just before the referee blew the whistle to end the match.
The other interesting tidbit was that a Colombian footballer named Andrés Escobar had been murdered, apparently in retaliation for an ‘own goal’ in the game between Colombia and the United States. I knew people who took sports seriously, but that was over-the-top by any possible measure!
I had to ask several questions, as I didn’t know the rules of ‘football’ as they called it, or ‘soccer’ as we called it, beyond the very basics of not being able to use your hands to advance the ball and of having eleven men per side. They patiently explained the game, and I returned the favor by explaining, as best I could, American ‘gridiron’ football.
After the meal and drinks, we spent some time in the Japanese bath, and after thanking everyone again, I went back to the cottage for my last night of sleep in Japan.
July 20, 1994, Oguni, Yamagata Prefecture, Japan
Sakurako woke me at 3:45am, and helped me pack my things. We surveyed the room, double checking that I had everything, and then I carried my bags to Sensei Robert’s freshly waxed Toyota and put them in the trunk. We went to the house and Sakurako retrieved box breakfasts for Hiroshi and me to take with us on the train. I thanked her, we exchanged bows and smiles, and then Hiroshi, Sensei Robert, and I went to see Sensei Hiro.
“Thank you again for your hospitality,” I said.
“You are welcome, Steve-san. Remember, as «shihan» you represent this dojo and are accountable to it in all things.”
“I remember, «Shihan»,” I said.
“You may call me Hiro-san, Steve-san. We are both instructors and masters.”
I smiled and bowed, and he returned the bow.
“Thank you, Hiro-san.”
“Have a safe journey to America, greet Jim-san for me, and please return if you are able.”
“I will do my best,” I said. “I wish you good health and a long life.”
“And to you as well,” he replied.
We bowed, and then Hiroshi, Sensei Robert, and I made our way out to his car. We drove to the train station and carried my bags and our lunches to the platform to wait for the train. Hiroshi went into the station to buy our tickets.
“You did well,” Sensei Robert said. “But whatever possessed you to enter a relationship with Hiro-san’s granddaughter?”
“Do you know how much she helped me?” I asked.
“I had a suspicion, but it was a huge risk, Steve-san.”
I nodded, “Indeed, but with the blessing of her grandmother, I fail to see how I could have gone wrong. I know who runs the household.”
He laughed, “Indeed.”
“And your wife had a part in it, Robert-san,” I grinned. “If I ended up in trouble, so would you!”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, I thought you knew! Please don’t say anything to your wife, but Sakurako consulted Huong for advice.”
He nodded, “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. They are friends, and have been since Sakurako arrived here about four years ago.”
“Her English is amazing,” I said.
“For some reason, she was completely dedicated to learning, and took extra classes.”
I smiled, “The «kami» directed her so she could teach me. Without her everything would have been much more difficult.”
“You know, it wouldn’t surprise me if there was some sort of divine intervention. It’s clear now you were destined for this from the beginning. It was just none of us knew it.”
Hiroshi returned, ending the conversation. The train arrived a few minutes later, and I bowed to Sensei Robert, then shook his hand.
“Thanks for everything,” I said.
“You’re welcome. Tell Jim I said hello, and tell him to watch out, you’re right on his six!”
I chuckled, “Did he tell you about the squirt gun incident?”
“Do you know how pissed he was?”
“I do!” I grinned.
We shook hands again, and Hiroshi helped me take my bags onto the train. I settled back in my seat, and as the train pulled out of Oguni Station, I ate my breakfast.
We arrived at Tokyo Station just after 11:00am, having changed trains at Yonezawa Station. We had just enough time for a quick lunch of sushi before we boarded the Narita Express for the airport.
July 20, 1994, Narita Airport, Japan
“Thank you for everything, Hiroshi-san,” I said to him.
“You’re welcome. It was very nice to meet you and I hope to see you again. If you are in Hawaii, please contact me.”
He handed me a slip of paper with his Hawaii address and phone number.
“If I get there, I certainly will. You’re more than welcome to visit Chicago anytime. We have plenty of room!”
“Even with your seven children?” He grinned.
“Yes, even with my seven children!”
“You made my sister very happy, Steve-san. I am sure she told you, but I wanted you to know.”
I nodded, “She was a tremendous help. As were you.”
We bowed, then he extended his hand and we shook. He handed me a small package which he encouraged me to open.
“That is a «鉢巻» (hachimaki),” he said, “and it’s a symbol of perseverance and courage. Mitsuo felt he could not give it to you at the dojo because of what happened.”
I unfolded the scarf which had a red meatball in the center and reminded me of the scarves I’d seen the Japanese pilots wear in Tora! Tora! Tora! or Midway.
“And the symbols?”
“«日本一» (Nippon Ichi),” he smiled. “The best of Japan.”
“Wow. Please thank him for me.”
“I will.”
We shook hands once more, and I walked over to get in line. Hiroshi waited while I checked in at the JAL desk and received my boarding pass. He walked me to the security lines, we bowed again, and I went through security and made my way to the gate. I only had to wait about twenty minutes before they called for ‘Executive Class’ passengers. Once again, my seat was on the upper deck. I walked onto the plane, stowed my things, and accepted champagne. I closed my eyes, and began to mentally prepare myself for a trip back through the wormhole.
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