by Carrie Asai
“Okay, mafioso.” I giggled, forgetting my exhaustion for a minute. “Is there something you’re not telling me? You in trouble with Tony Soprano?”
“A samurai must be prepared for every eventuality. You know that,” Hiro said seriously, ignoring my joke. Sometimes (often, actually) his sense of humor went into total remission. I doubted he knew who Tony Soprano was—Hiro didn’t go in much for TV. I wondered how he and Karen compromised about that—I knew from experience that she enjoyed watching a good, cheesy romantic comedy now and again. I sighed. What I wouldn’t give to be lying at home on the couch falling asleep to a video right now—curled up insomeone’s arms.
“I know. Okay.” I retied my hair in the futile hope that it would make me feel more awake.
“Good,” Hiro said, watching me patiently. “Let’s start from a ground position, then.”
I gestured vaguely at myself. “I’m here already, you know.”
“Okay,” Hiro said, crouching down next to me, “roll over on your side. I’m going to put you in a neck hold…” Hiro scooted behind me and put his arms around my neck. He smelled like shaving cream and sweat. A good smell. I tried to inhale without being obvious and let my eyes close.
“…and a leg lock.” Hiro entwined his legs with mine. I could feel my face growing hot, and I was glad Hiro was behind me so he couldn’t see the blush I knew was there. Why couldn’t I stop acting like a love-starved teenager?Because you area love-starved teenager, I thought. Not for long, though. My twentieth birthday was just around the corner—at least, the day my family had chosen to celebrate my birthday. For all I knew, I was twenty years old already. And what did I have to show for it? It was too depressing to even think about.
“Now use your elbow first to break the neck hold—that’s the most important,” Hiro said, and described the series of movements he wanted me to do. I went through them slowly, but when we tried for real, without Hiro giving up any force, I failed miserably. My arms felt like they were made out of jelly.
“Try again,” Hiro said, sounding irritated as he repositioned himself.
I tried again and failed. On top of my total exhaustion, having Hiro wrapped around me was just too distracting for words.
“Sorry,” I muttered as Hiro untangled himself and faced me. “I’m on the weak side today.”
“I don’t get it, Heaven. This isn’t that hard. Why aren’t you trying?” Hiro’s mouth drew down around the edges, marring his gorgeous face.
“Iam trying, Hiro. It’s just—why do you think I can do every single thing you teach me right off the bat?” I sat up, hating the whining sound in my voice.
“Because you have the talent to do it. And right now you’re just wasting my time.” Hiro walked over to his bag and took out his water bottle.
“Well,excuse me for being tired,” I lashed out. “I have things on my mind.”
“Like what?” Hiro said. Normally I would have confided in him, but right then I couldn’t. After all, he (and his stupid relationship with stupid Karen) was a big part of the problem.
“Like none of your business,” I said petulantly, burying my head in my arms. I just wanted to sleep—to take back the whole stinking morning and start over tomorrow.
“Stop being such a baby, Heaven,” Hiro said curtly. “You promised me you would be honest with me, and now you’re just acting like a child.”
I shrugged, my face still buried in my arms. I just didn’t have the energy to get into a fight with Hiro. I felt beaten, both mentally and physically. My muscles ached, I was nauseated from the drinks I’d had the night before (I stupidly hadn’t eaten any breakfast), and my mind was mush. I felt like there was a black cloud hanging over me and me only.
“You seem so depressed, Heaven,” Hiro said, his voice softer. He walked over to me, knelt down, and put his hand on my shoulder. “You’re not yourself today. What can I do?”
“What do you care?” I blurted, whipping my head up to face him. How dare he pretend to give a crap! It was too little too late. “I was mugged last night. I have no family. Someone’s trying to kill me. And I’m broke. So that’smy life.”And you’re too busy with being shmoopy-faced with shmoopy Miss Perfect Karen to even notice, I added to myself.
“You were mugged?” Hiro asked, his face tightening. “Where?”
I told him about the night before, leaving out the late hour and the neighborhood, figuring I didn’t need a lecture from Hiro about being more responsible for my own safety.
“You’re sure they weren’t yakuza?” Hiro pressed, still looking concerned.
“Hiro.” I shook my head. “Don’t you think at this point I can tell the difference between two-bit street criminals and professional hit men? These guys were scared—they couldn’t fight at all. And I’m sure they were on something.”
Hiro sighed. “Well, that sounds like just bad luck, then. I’m sorry you had to go through that. But I think I know something that will help you.”
My heart skipped a beat—was Hiro going to suggest something fun, like doing our training session at the beach, like we once had, or taking a trip out of L.A.?
“I think it’s time for your next mission,” Hiro said, and sat cross-legged in front of me. My heart sank. He was in sensei mode now. Hiro had given me two missions so far, and completing each had been harder than I’d ever imagined possible. The thing about the missions was, you almost couldn’t do anything proactive to complete them. You had to just contemplate, and think, and try different things, and then all at once you seemed to “get it.” They made life very frustrating sometimes, but Hiro was convinced they were an important aspect of my training. And I had to admit—they were helpful in getting me out of some tight situations. But I really needed a break.
I also couldn’t help thinking that if it wasKaren who’d been mugged, Hiro wouldn’t be quite so nonchalant about it.
“Well,” continued Hiro, “you know that each mission has do to with some aspect of the bushido—”
“The way of the samurai,” I intoned in a singsong voice. Duh. Like I didn’t know that. Irritation bubbled inside me. I wanted to shake him out of his professor mode.
“—so because you’ve been so worried and upset lately—” Hiro said, ignoring my sarcasm, “and with good reason, don’t get me wrong—and distracted, your mission is simply to clear your mind.”
“Clear my mind?” I asked hollowly. “You mean, like, think about snow falling or waves crashing? Listen to some new age music?”
“Not exactly, although there are tools that you can use to help you. You already know that bushido has its roots in Zen Buddhism—and in Zen, meditation is key. You’ve already started in on that stuff, I know. There are certain Zen koan, or riddles, that Zen monks use to help them clear their minds of all unnecessary thoughts. I’m sure you’ve heard the one, ‘What’s the sound of one hand clapping?’ ”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one,” I said, trying to focus. I was getting groggier and groggier and more and more resistant to this little lesson. It was like someone telling you what medicine to take to recover from a cold when really all you wanted was a hug and a little attention.
“Here’s another one,” Hiro said, “that you can use this week: Someone asked, ‘What do you think about? The moment discrimination arises, one becomes confused and loses one’s mind?’ The Master said, ‘Kill, kill!’ ” Hiro stopped and looked at me as though waiting for me to say something.
A dense, mind-crushing fog settled over my brain. I could almost feel myself shedding IQ points. Hiro’s words made no sense to me.
“I don’t get it,” I said, my eyes welling up.
“You’re not supposed to. That’s the whole point. Just remember that the goal is to make your mind as smooth and blank as a pearl.”
“Oh,” I said dumbly. Somehow I sensed the blankness Hiro was talking about wasn’t the blankness I was feeling just then. My head was swimming. I just wanted to go home.
“All right,” Hiro said, st
anding up and collecting his things. “I think that’s enough for today. Get some rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow at seven for aikido in the park.”
“Um…about th-that…,” I stuttered, the fog clearing for a second. “I’m only going to be able to train in the afternoons now.”
“Why?” Hiro asked, not looking pleased. “That’s not really convenient for me.”
“Well, sorry,” I said snottily, flipping my hair and throwing my towel into my knapsack, “but I have a new job, and I work nights. So there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Hiro’s face brightened. “Heaven, that’s great! I had no idea! Where are you working?”
Without turning around, I answered, “At this club called Vibe. I’m a shot girl. It’s great—people buy shots from me and I collect the money and get to keep all the tips. I could make three hundred dollars a night—and it’s totally under the table. I—” I stopped short. Hiro’s face was suddenly angry. What had I done? I hadn’t planned on telling him where I worked—it was the exhaustion that made me slip up.
“Are you crazy?” Hiro snapped, taking a few steps toward me. “That isnot the kind of job you should be taking. You’re not even twenty-one!”
“So? They don’t care. Besides, I have an ID.” My sleepiness had vanished and now I was just plain mad. As far as Hiro was concerned, nothing I tried to do was right. I was sick of not living up to his expectations, sick of him treating me like a machine instead of a girl.
“That job is demeaning and…and unsafe…and totally against everything that a samurai should be striving for!” Hiro ran his hands through his hair. “And I suppose you were mugged coming back from work last night, huh? At what time? Three, four in the morning? How could you lie to me?”
I ignored Hiro’s questions and let my anger and bitterness do the talking. “What the hell am I supposed to do, Hiro? How am I supposed to live? I needmoney. ” I spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child.
“So find another job.”
“Easy for you to say. You’ve got experience. You’ve got papers. Try being in my position.”
“Heaven, you cannot do this job and continue to take your training seriously!” Hiro yelled.
“Then you tell me who’s going to pay my rent while I find something else!” I challenged. “Because it’s not going to be you!”
“That’s not fair, Heaven,” Hiro said, his voice deathly calm. “You know I’d help you out if I could.”
“Fine. But you can’t. So what do you suggest?” Beneath my anger ran a thin thread of fear. In that moment I felt my aloneness acutely. Nobody was looking out for me except myself. That much was clear.
“What happened to the money your father sent you?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I had to pay a security deposit and first and last month’s rent to move in with Cheryl. And the last of it went for groceries and bus fares after I lost the job at Life Bytes. I’m not totally irresponsible, you know.”
“I didn’t say you were,” Hiro said, but he looked doubtful.
“I suppose you could have made the money go much further, hmm?” I sputtered, wanting to just get out of the room, the dojo—away from his disapproval, which hurt me more than he could ever know.
“Possibly, yes,” Hiro answered, his face hard.
“Well, I guess I just suck! How about that? Can we at least agree on that?”
“Don’t be such a child, Heaven,” Hiro said with an exasperated sigh. “This isn’t about you ‘sucking.’I think you just need to be a little more independent. Just because you got offered one job doesn’t mean you have to take it. You need to take the initiative and find something that works for you.”
“Are you kidding?” I wanted to wring his neck. “Ihave a job! I told you that! I got it for myself, and I don’t remember asking you or anyone else for help!”No need to tell him it was Cheryl who got me the job, I thought.The point is, it wasn’t him.
Hiro closed his eyes for moment, and I stood there, trembling with anger, waiting for him to speak. I resisted the urge to make a break for it while he still had his eyes closed. After thirty seconds or so he opened them.
“I think your anger is misplaced. You’re taking your frustrations about your situation out on me. Maybe you need to find some people your own age to spend time with. People who share your interests. People who can help you get some good work. Some friends of Cheryl’s, maybe?”
I felt like I had been punched in the gut. Was Hiro, myonly friend (if you could even call him that, at this point) and the only person who knew what I had been through, actually telling me I needed to get a life? I stared at him.
“Don’t be angry, Heaven,” Hiro soothed, taking a step toward me. “I’m trying to understand your anger. But I don’t think I’m the one who can help you with it. I think we need a break.”
Ha!I thought bitterly,I think I’m getting dumped without ever having had a boyfriend!
“A break from training?” I asked quietly, feeling like I was sinking into a bottomless well of loneliness. Tears came to my eyes and I angrily blinked them away.
“Not exactly. More like an agreement that you’ll try to spend more time with some other people.”
I looked down at the wooden floor of the practice room. Yep. I was being dumped.
“So you’re saying you’ll be my teacher but not my friend?”
Hiro looked nervous. “Don’t make it sound that way. I—”
“Then forget it!” I interrupted, wishing that I could hit him, kick him, do anything to break through his seriousness, his “professionalism.” Didn’t he remember any of the things we’d been through? The moments we’d shared? It occurred to me that those minutes and hours must have meant nothing to him, and I couldn’t bear the hurt of that realization. “I quit!” I yelled, overcome with the desire to hurt him. “How’s that? I quit my stupid training! Now you don’t have to worry about me, or my substandard job, or spending time away from Karen!”
Hiro’s face was like stone. “I don’t think that’s wise,” he said icily.
“Well, I’m not a wise girl, am I?” I picked up my backpack and strode out of the room without looking at him again. I felt empty inside—without training, what would I be? And without Hiro, what was there left to hope for? I tried to tell myself that I was finally free, that I could do what I wanted and build a real life for myself—but I didn’t believe it. Not really. Hiro couldn’t have made it clearer that he didn’t have time for me in his Karen-filled life. Well, I wouldn’t be a burden to him anymore.
I can take care of myself,I thought as the tears slid down my cheeks.
I wanted to crawl into my bed and sleep forever.
When I woke up this morning, Karen kissed me good-bye, and I felt, for the first time since the kidnapping, that everything was going to be okay. When the Yukemuras took Karen by mistake, I was racked with guilt—not only because caring for me had put Karen in danger, but because a tiny part of me was glad they hadn’t taken Heaven. It’s a terrible thing to feel that way—and to have to hide it. But I was fairly certain they wouldn’t hurt Karen, wouldn’t take the risk of involving an innocent American. If they’d caught Heaven, on the other hand—anything could have happened. These yakuza men have no souls. They are cruel and have no respect for life.
Thanks to Heaven’s bravery, we got Karen back. I saw her looking so scared and helpless, Karen who is so strong, and for the first time I felt angry at Heaven for bringing her problems to me. I left Japan to get away from all that—and now I’ve landed right in the middle of somebody else’s feud. Karen was understanding, but she made it clear that she wanted a normal relationship. For the last few weeks I’ve been trying to regain her trust—we’ve cooked dinners together, gone on walks. Done yoga together at her place…and this morning, things did feel normal again.
Until the phone call.
I want to help Heaven. It is my duty, my destiny. I care about her—she has a good heart, a strong soul, but she is y
oung and impetuous. If I tell her about what happened this morning, I’m not sure what she would do. I’m not her father. I don’t want to be her father. But I feel the need to protect her—maybe from herself. She needs time to heal from what’s happened.
Is it right to keep information from her? Who am I to judge?
Usually when I’m on my bike, everything else fades. My mind clears as I concentrate on getting to my destination as quickly as possible, on dodging cars and buses, choosing this turn or that, calculating my rate of speed to fit in each and every pickup and drop-off. But today I’m distracted. I see Heaven sitting on the floor of the dojo, head in her arms, hopeless. I wanted to wrap her up and cradle her—to be her friend. Was I right to let her walk out that door? Could it be that she’s walked out of my life for good?
I feel empty. When I first met Heaven and heard how Ohiko had been killed and how she was in danger, I told her I would help her because I believed it was my duty, my destiny. I still believe that.
So why am I fighting it? Why is the path so cloudy? How can one phone call, one argument, one young woman change everything so quickly?
I wish I could talk to Karen about all this. Once she would have understood, but now everything’s different.
My shift is almost over. It has been a very long day.
Hiro
4
“Hey, you,” Cheryl said when I wandered out into the kitchen. “That was some disco nap!”
“What time is it?” I asked, my voice rusty.
“Seven o’clock. Dinnertime!”
“I can’t believe I slept that long.” I leaned on the counter. “Smells good—what is it?”
“Cheryl’s famous mac ’n’ cheese. Guaranteed to give your tummy a nice booze lining.”
“It smells delicious.” My stomach grumbled, and I realized I was ravenous. I’d downed a big glass of water and a couple of ibuprofens when I got home and gone straight to bed without eating. After what Hiro’d said to me, I hadn’t had much of an appetite. I resolved not to think about our argument just yet.