The New Samurai

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  Hachi giggled. “You interesting! I like you!” she laughed.

  Akemi pulled on Sam’s arm to get his attention. “You like Japan girls? You like better than English girls! Treat you good!”

  Sam ducked his head, embarrassed.

  Akemi laughed. “Can you use chopsticks?” she said.

  Sam nodded, wondering where the conversation was going now.

  “Can you eat raw fish? Can you eat sushi off my behind?”

  Sam choked on his sake and Yoshi laughed like a blocked vacuum cleaner.

  “She like you, Sam-san! She want to be your girlfriend.”

  Whatever Akemi wanted, the only thing Sam wanted was to get the hell out of there.

  But after precisely ninety minutes of chat and drinks, the mama-san who had greeted them at the door, presented them with a bill for ¥12,000 each and escorted them from the room.

  “Aw, don’t go!” said Paul, as Megumi disappeared into the smoke-filled club without a backwards glance.

  He was dissuaded from complaining further when two burly men who could have been sumo wrestlers, blocked his re-entry to the club.

  “Take it easy, fellas,” said Paul, handing over his money.

  Yoshi was still giggling.

  “You like hostess bar, Sam-san?”

  It had been an expensive evening, but still cheaper than a night out with Elle – and minus the silent hostility over the breakfast table in the morning.

  “It was an experience,” said Sam, wincing.

  Sam was sitting at his desk, his long legs crammed into the too small space beneath, wearily working his way through his Japanese homework. He wondered idly if a beer would help oil and soothe the convoluted workings of his brain.

  A knock on the door was a welcome distraction. Paul poked his head round.

  “Hey, man. Studying?”

  “Trying to,” said Sam, tiredly.

  “You wanna take a break?”

  Sam pushed his chair away from the desk and slammed the book shut. “God, yes!”

  Paul smiled. “Let’s go get a beer, buddy.”

  The night air was cool, although hardly refreshing with the ceaseless frenzy of passing cars pouring fumes onto the crowded pavements.

  “Where do you want to go?” said Sam. “Kenji’s or Yamamoto’s?”

  Paul was unusually hesitant and just a little evasive.

  “Let’s try somewhere new – I think I saw a bar down this way that we could try out,” he said.

  “Sure, okay, but it had better not be anther hostess bar because I’m still broke after the last time,” said Sam, raising his eyebrows.

  “No, no, I swear,” said Paul, grinning. “Although those chicks were hot! We should definitely go back there …”

  They walked in silence for some minutes. Sam was increasingly puzzled as they passed bar after bar, full of salarymen in their dark suits, faces flushed with yet another round of after-work drinks.

  After they had ignored several more bars, Sam thought an explanation was in order.

  “Okay, so where are we going, Paul? We’ve passed a dozen places already.”

  Paul looked embarrassed, shifty even.

  “Okay, dude, I’ll tell you. But if you mention this to anyone, I swear…” He left the threat hanging in the air.

  “Yeah, and…? What’s the big secret?”

  Paul looked at the ground. “Okay, but don’t laugh…”

  “Scout’s honour!” said Sam, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

  Paul scowled. “I want to get some protection, okay?”

  Sam frowned, imagining some Mafiosi situation. Could Paul have got himself mixed up with the Yakuza? Surely not?

  “Okay, you’re going to have to explain that,” said Sam.

  Uncharacteristically, Paul blushed.

  “Johnnies! French letters! Rubbers, man! Jeez – condoms!”

  Sam burst out laughing. “Oh! So, is this… like a date, Paul? Because I’ve got to tell you – you’re not my type.”

  “You’re a funny guy,” muttered Paul. “I just want to be prepared: I think me and Tara… well, I know she digs me… and I want to be ready. I looked for some rubbers in the supermarket but nothing doing. So I figured maybe they sold them in a drug store. But I’m damned if I can work out what the hell I’m buying. It’s all in Japanese. So I figured you might be able to help. Aw come on!”

  By this time Sam was doubled over, laughing so hard he could hardly catch his breath.

  “You promised you wouldn’t laugh!” Paul sounded so indignant that it brought on a fresh round of laughing.

  “S…sorry!” wheezed Sam, a huge grin spread across his face. “Okay, okay! I’ll help.”

  He tried to stifle another laugh, and keep his face straight.

  “This is the drug store,” mumbled Paul, his face like thunder.

  The sign above the shop said Yakkokyu: Sam was pleased that he could recognise the Kanji for ‘medicine’.

  “Why didn’t you ask Yoshi to help you?” said Sam, curiously.

  Paul shook his head slowly as Sam continued to look at him.

  “Naw. He talks too much; I thought you’d be more likely to keep your mouth shut… but I could have been wrong about that.”

  Sam laughed. “I dunno: what’s it worth?”

  Paul ignored him.

  The store was large and brightly lit. Several customers were idly walking around the shelves and a store assistant greeted them with the usual “Irasshaimase!”

  Still smiling, Sam dug his hands into his pockets and followed Paul inside.

  The shelves were lined with every sort of beauty product you could imagine, including several for making skin whiter. There were also rows of nail polish in every possible colour, toothbrushes, make-up, pots of cream and several things that Sam couldn’t identify. Looking closer at one shelf, Sam hurriedly dropped a small box of Tampax that he’d picked up by mistake. On the next shelf down was a large collection of manga magazines.

  “Found them!” said Paul, loudly.

  Sam looked over to where he was standing. There were shelves of brightly coloured boxes. Sam wandered over to examine them more closely. Several of the brand names were written in English as well as Katakana, with names like ‘Spiky’, ‘Fruity’, ‘Wild Shake’ and ‘Stay longer’.

  Paul picked up a couple of boxes.

  “Whaddya think?”

  Sam tried to decipher the writing, then burst out laughing.

  “Whaaat?” said Paul, infuriated.

  “That’s hair gel,” said Sam, gleefully. “I dunno, mate. Is Tara into that?!”

  Paul’s face was flushed a dull red, and he muttered under his breath something that sounded like “goddam Limey”.

  After wandering around the store for several more minutes, Sam found what they were looking for. The condoms were lined up, helpfully, next to pregnancy testing kits and baby clothes.

  “Here you go, mate,” he said, tossing a packet to Paul. “They’re called ‘Skinless Skin’. Sounds promising, don’t you think?”

  Paul still wasn’t speaking to him and Sam grinned broadly. “Or maybe she’d like these ‘Hello Kitty’ ones?”

  He sniggered, and Paul looked like he wanted to hit him. Sam tried to straighten up his face but it was hard work.

  “Er, what size do you want? I think these are extra small.”

  Paul exploded, telling Sam in no uncertain terms where he could go and the fastest way he could get there.

  Sam burst out laughing. He wasn’t going to let Paul off the hook that easily.

  “They’ve got a brand here called ‘Big Boy’,” he sniggered. “Yeah! These have got a picture of a black horse on them. Are you a stallion, Paul, or should I ask Tara?”

  Paul turned puce.

  “You know,” said Sam, thoughtfully, “my sister told me that when she was at school, the sex education teacher made all the girls practise putting condoms on bananas.” He grinned. “Maybe you should go for on
e of these fruit-flavoured ones?”

  “Are all Brits as freaky as you?” snarled Paul. “Or maybe the chicks are just twisted?”

  But Sam’s attention was already elsewhere.

  “Er, what about female condoms?” he said, holding up one of the larger boxes, and trying not to laugh at Paul’s expression.

  “Huh?” said Paul. “I didn’t know they made them. How…”

  “Oh wow!” said Sam, interrupting him. “These ones play music!”

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Paul. “And the hits just keep on coming.”

  “I’m serious,” said Sam, looking in amazement at the packet he was holding. “I wonder what tunes they play?”

  He threw the packet to Paul. “You’ve got to try them.”

  Paul frowned. “Sure, but what if it’s some really sappy love song?”

  Sam nearly collapsed laughing.

  Just then the shop assistant decided to come and help them.

  She was tiny and perfect, her doll-like face devoid of emotion. “You need help, please?”

  “Yes!” gasped Sam, pointing to Paul. “He definitely needs help!”

  Paul was speechless as the assistant nodded thoughtfully, then she smiled.

  “You very romantic boys! You buy condoms together!”

  Sam choked and Paul’s mouth fell open; his jaw was so near the floor he could have tripped over it.

  “We have healthy supplements for the sexual man?” She looked at Paul, her wide round eyes considerate.

  Paul shook his head in desperation.

  The assistant looked him up and down and finally selected two small packets of condoms, then escorted Paul to the check-out. Sam stumbled out of the shop, nearly crying with laughter.

  When Paul left the shop, his face was chagrined.

  “That was…” he couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “I know, mate,” said Sam, almost sympathetically. “I hope Tara’s worth it. Next time send her to buy them.”

  “Yeah, well, if we get it on, you’ll be the last to know. Buddy.”

  Clearly Paul hadn’t forgiven him yet.

  “Oh,” said Sam, “I thought you meant you and Tara…”

  “Not yet,” said Paul, “but she’s begging for me. I can tell.”

  Sam thought back to the last time he’d seen Paul and Tara together; he hadn’t noticed any signs of her particular interest in Paul. But who knew? Maybe he was wrong. He didn’t say anything, but just gave a mental shrug.

  Pity though.

  “How about that drink now?” said Sam.

  “Just lead the way, buddy. I need one.”

  Sam was in full agreement.

  Chapter 6 – May

  The plan was to spend their day off enjoying a traditional Japanese pastime: hanami – viewing the Spring cherry blossom.

  It was the time of year when Japanese friends, work colleagues and families got together to enjoy the beauty of the cherry blossom in the city’s parks.

  Yoshi explained.

  “For us, it is the temporal nature of beauty: like a woman, the beauty fades quickly.”

  “You’re really going to have to work on your chat-up lines, Yoshi,” said Tara, poking him in the arm.

  Yoshi giggled happily. He enjoyed any kind of attention from Tara, even if he didn’t really understand why men and women would want to socialise together. It wasn’t something Japanese people did very often, but he was willing to make exceptions for his gaijin friends.

  “We must go to Ueno Park,” said Yoshi. “The sakura cherry blossom is very beautiful there.”

  “Oh yes,” said Helen. “Let’s take a picnic – it’ll be fun. It tends to be families in the daytime and then the younger people at night…” She looked at the others and smiled. “It can get pretty wild – but the park looks lovely, and in the evening they light strings of paper lanterns from the trees.”

  They’d agreed to meet in the hostel’s entrance soon after breakfast. Sam had just pulled on a pair of cargo shorts and was hunting for a clean T-shirt, when he heard a knock on his door.

  “Yeah, Paul, I’m coming,” he said.

  But it was Tara who poked her head around the door.

  “Hey, Sam,” she said, a strange smile stretched across her face. “I’ve got something for you: something special… something I know you’ve been wanting for a while now… something we can do together at last…”

  An array of emotions sped across Sam’s face; he stood transfixed as she continued to smile seductively at him.

  She stepped into the room and Sam’s eyes widened; then she threw something at him, and his hands automatically flew to catch it. It was a rugby ball.

  “Happy Hanami!” she said, grinning at his expression.

  Sam smiled back, but he wasn’t sure which emotion was stronger: relief or disappointment.

  “I thought we could maybe… play around a bit,” she said, raising her eyebrows, “in the park.”

  Sam smiled. “Sure! It’ll be good to see an Aussie try to play rugby.”

  “Yeah? I’m so gonna teach you a lesson. Mate.”

  They were interrupted by Paul, who looked somewhat aggrieved by their tête-à-tête. “Come on, guys. Daylight’s a-wasting.”

  “Yeah, coming,” said Sam, pulling a T-shirt indiscriminately from a pile next to his futon roll, and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

  Helen and Yoshi were waiting in the entrance.

  “I’ve got us some rice balls,” said Helen, holding up a huge box of onigiri.

  “And I have beer!” sang Yoshi.

  “Game on!” said Paul.

  “And I have also Hokkaido speciality: denpun dango – sweet boiled bean dumplings. You will like this very much. They are wicked, like!” said Yoshi, trying to imitate Paul, which made them all laugh.

  “Yeah, well you might think we’ve got all the food groups covered,” said Tara, raising one eyebrow, “but I intend on pigging out today. Let’s get some pizza from your favourite hangout, Paul, and some of those green-tea sponge cake thingies.”

  “Did you get anything, Sam?” said Helen.

  “Er, well, beer actually,” he admitted sheepishly.

  Tara rolled her eyes. “Men! They never think to buy chocolate!”

  “I beg to differ,” said Sam, pulling out a family-size packet of cherry-flavoured KitKats from his backpack.

  “Oh, Sam!” laughed Helen. “Those are my favourites! Almost pure sugar – utterly synthetic. Thanks!”

  “Yeah,” agreed Tara. “They take the enamel off your teeth just by looking at them.”

  “So, I got these, too.” said Sam, with a flourish. He delved to the bottom of his bag and showed them a bag of apples.

  “Fab!” said Helen, hugging him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Then she shuddered. “Ugh! You didn’t bother to shave today – you’re all scratchy.”

  Sam grinned. “I’m having a day off.”

  Helen wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never understood the whole designer stubble thing. What about you, Tara?”

  “Depends, I guess.”

  “On what?” said Paul, looking too interested.

  “On the guy,” said Tara. “It can look cute…” her eyes involuntarily flickered to Sam, “but only as long as I don’t have to get too close.”

  “Huh?” said Paul.

  Tara rolled her eyes. “Stubble rash, mate! Makes me look like a burns victim.”

  Helen laughed. “I know exactly what you mean! Sorry, Sam. The female contingent says ‘no’ to stubble. Although, as you brought chocolate and apples you get extra points for that: if only you could cook – you’d be officially perfect!”

  “Who says I can’t?” said Sam, smiling back.

  Yoshi looked surprised. “You cook, Sam-san?”

  “Everyone knows limeys can’t cook, my friend,” said Paul, clapping an arm around Yoshi’s shoulder. “I’m Italian: you should taste my puttanesca sauce some time.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got
a date, Yoshi,” said Tara.

  The train was full of families and groups of teenagers making their way to Ueno Park, all carrying large rolls of plastic sheeting to sit on.

  The noise in the park was something else. Despite Helen’s warning, Sam had rather assumed that viewing cherry blossom would be a quiet, contemplative affair; the opposite was true. Even before lunch, some of the younger people were already slightly drunk, and two men seemed to be having a shouting competition using megaphones.

  To escape the bedlam, they wandered further in towards the centre of the park, Tara trying to explain Australian Rules football to Paul, whilst he assured her that American Football was the superior sport. Sam wisely kept quiet and eventually Helen had to step in, to end what was turning out to be quite a heated disagreement.

  They found a space in the middle of the park that was between the lake and the baseball ground, which was considerably less crowded. The cherry blossom was breathtaking; whole avenues decorated with petals of pink snow.

  Helen spread out a large, plaid rug and everyone placed their offerings in the centre. The sun was pleasant but not hot, and Yoshi’s sweet dumplings turned out to be a triumph, as he’d promised. The warm beer made everyone feel mellow: everyone except Yoshi, whose tolerance for alcohol was amazingly low.

  “Now we play football!” he yelled. “Game on!”

  Paul grabbed Tara’s rugby ball and took off down the park like a fullback, dodging imaginary players, then threw a 10-yard reverse pass to Tara, who caught it with one graceful leap.

  Yoshi cheered like a drunken dragoon and ran straight at her, as if he was going to tackle her. She danced out of the way and passed the ball to Sam.

  “Come on!” roared Paul. “You and me, Tara! New World versus the Old World.”

  Sam’s backpack was one goal and Helen’s cardigan the other. But they’d only played for a few minutes when five gaijin strolled over to join in.

  All were well-built with the short, bristly crew-cuts that proclaimed them US servicemen.

  “Hey, guys,” said the man who seemed to be their leader. You want a proper game? Five on five?”

  Paul grinned. “Sure! That’d be great. How you doin’?”

  The men named themselves as Mitch, Greg, Vince, Al and Sandy. They proudly declared that they were from the US Marine Corps, just come up from Camp Fuji for a weekend of R&R in the city.