Itoko

Midoriko turned off the TV, prompting immediate outcry from Good Girl. “I was watching that!”

“I was thinking we could try something new tonight,” Midoriko explained as she sat down at her desk. She patted her lap, inviting the child to come sit.

“Are we doing more writing?” Good Girl asked, standing next to the desk and reaching for a crayon. Upon realizing the girl couldn’t read or write, Midoriko had started teaching her a little every day.

“Something like that,” she said, pulling the child into her lap. “Do you remember when we named your doll?”

“Mhm!” Good Girl started scribbling on the paper Midoriko had laid out.

“Well…” Midoriko grabbed the girl’s hand to stop her absentminded scribbles. “Why don’t we try to come up with a name for you?”

She looked up at Midoriko with those bright, innocent eyes. “But isn’t Good Girl my name? That’s what everyone calls me...”

“Um…It’s not really a name…” As she racked her brain trying to think of a way to explain it to a seven-year-old, she thought of something. “A name is something special that everyone uses only for you!”

“Like Good Girl?”

Midoriko pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled to keep composed. How can I get through to this child?

“The thing is, anyone can be ‘Good Girl’ because it’s what you say to praise someone!” This wasn’t exactly right, but it was good enough. She at least seemed to be listening. “I can be ‘good girl,’ a puppy or a kitty can be ‘good girl’...”

“Can Xiǎomíng-nii be ‘good girl’?”

Is she starting to understand it?

“Well, he would be ‘good boy’,” she corrected. “But yes, it’s like that. So let’s think of a name you might like to be called!”

“Like what?”

“We could name you after something you like, such as a flower or a color–”

“Pink! I want to be called pink!”

Midoriko sighed in exasperation. She was just too cute, but this was getting nowhere fast. Maybe she should go in a different direction and just give the girl a name herself.

“How did you get your name, Midoriko-nee?” Good Girl asked, resuming her scribbling on the paper.

“My mother gave it to me,” she said, picking up an emerald green crayon. “She named me after this color.”

Midoriko wrote out the name in hiragana, letting Good Girl try to sound out each character. On a separate piece of paper, she wrote out the kanji that made up her name—green and child. As she stared at the kanji for “child,” a thought struck Midoriko.

A ‘loved’ child is even better than a ‘good’ child.

“How about we call you Itoko from now on?”

“Itoko?”

“Mhm.” Midoriko nodded. With the green crayon, she wrote out the name in kanji, adding hiragana over the two characters that made up the name. “This one means love, and this one means child. Together, they make Itoko.”

***

Every day since coming to live with Midoriko was like a new adventure for Good Girl. Even though she had to stay put in Midoriko’s bedroom most of the time, there were still so many new experiences. Midoriko had even given her a special new name—Itoko!

In the mornings, Midoriko would make breakfast, and they’d eat together. After she left for the day, Itoko would turn on the TV. Itoko remembered the TV from before she met Papa, but Papa’s house didn’t have one.

When she got bored of the TV, Itoko would draw with her crayons or look at the pictures in Midoriko’s books. And if she got bored of that, she would take a nap until it was time for Midoriko to come home.

Every night, after dinner, Midoriko would teach Itoko reading and writing. Before bath time, they would go for a walk around the neighborhood after dark. Sometimes Midoriko would even let Itoko run around a playground if no one else was there.

Itoko found that she didn’t even miss Papa as much as she used to. He would often go away for long stretches of time, only coming back to make more food and check on her, but now there was always someone there for her. Plus, Itoko knew that if she did start to miss him, the matching necklaces could always bring them together.

Every day at the same time in the afternoon, Itoko would sit on the veranda to watch the same small, old lady walk by with a very big dog on a leash. As she watched the old woman get pulled along by the dog, Itoko wondered why the old lady didn’t just ride on its back.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Itoko froze. For the third day in a row, it was that loud knocking again. It was never at the same time, and never seemed to happen when Midoriko was home.

The first time it happened, the person knocked for the entire duration of a TV show. She notified Midoriko of it immediately after she came home.

“That was probably just the NHK guy. Next time, pretend like you’re not home and ignore it,” was what she said…

So the next time, Itoko turned off the TV and the lights. She sat quietly as she waited for the man to leave, but his knocking persisted for a long time again. Only that time, she had no frame of reference for how long he stayed out there before giving up.

When she told Midoriko about it, Midoriko told her once more not to worry. “They’re tenacious bastards. I’ll just tape an envelope with the fee to the door so they stop bothering us.”

Once again, Itoko did as she was instructed. She quietly pulled the door to the veranda closed, drew the curtain, then turned off all the lights and the TV.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The knocking seemed to come in more frequent intervals than before. On the other days, there would be several knocks with a “hello” thrown in, then a stretch of silence followed by more knocking. Today, it was a series of rapid knocks, a short pause, then more knocks.

Curiosity got the better of her.

Itoko tip-toed over to the door and lifted up the mail slot. She wanted to be able to tell Midoriko what the man looked like this time.

When she peeked through the opening, the man’s smiling face came into view as he crouched down. Itoko let out a sharp gasp as she let the mail slot slam close.

From the outside, the man pushed it open and looked through. “Hello! Girl child!”

Itoko shrieked and ran back to the main room, slamming the sliding door shut behind her. She grabbed the blanket off the bed and hid in the closet. Itoko clutched the jade magatama in her little hands.

“Papa…I’m scared…” she whispered, trying to hold back tears.

“What’s wrong?” echoed a voice inside her head. It was Papa.

“There’s a man knocking on the door, and he won’t go away.”

“Is Midoriko there?”

Itoko shook her head, then remembered she had to answer with her words. “No. She went to work again today.”

“Did you see the man?”

“Yes.”

“What did he look like?”

Itoko hadn’t actually managed to get a good look at him after he’d startled her. She tried to remember details. “Um…black hair?”

The sound was muffled, but Itoko could still hear the man frantically pounding at the door and calling out to her.

“He sounds strange,” she added.

“Good Girl, do you remember what I told you when you left?”

“My name is Itoko now…Midoriko-nee gave me that name,” she said, sniffling. Being reminded of Midoriko made her bravery waver.

There was a pause in communication. For a moment, she thought she’d lost her connection to Papa and squeezed the magatama even harder.

“Papa…” she whined.

“I’m still here. I’m sorry. Your name is Itoko now, right? Do you remember what I said before, Itoko? About protecting Midoriko?”

“Yes, Papa…”

“Good. If he comes inside, then you know what you have to do.”

As the banging on the door grew more frenzied, Itoko squeezed her eyes shut. A tear escaped the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek. Then, the banging stopped.

Itoko opened the closet door and listened. Outside, she could hear someone scolding the man for causing a disturbance while he said sorry, sorry in that funny accent of his.

She crawled out of the closet and cracked open the sliding door separating the kitchen. Itoko listened as the man’s footsteps retreated away from the door and down the stairs. She crept over to the front door to look through the mail slot once more.

After a moment, he came into view as he walked away from the apartment building holding a phone to his ear.

***

“He had b-black hair…a-and b-black pants…” Itoko mumbled as she listlessly pushed her spoon around the plate of curry.

It was the only description of the man Midoriko could get out of Itoko. She’d considered knocking on a neighbor’s door to ask about it, but it was bad enough that a neighbor had evidently complained to begin with. Midoriko couldn’t stand the thought of debasing herself further.

The envelope of money Midoriko had left taped to the door that morning was gone by the time she arrived home that day. If the man was wearing a suit, then maybe it was the NHK guy getting overzealous.

The alternative was… Well, Midoriko didn’t want to think about that. Nor did she feel the need to reach out to Enishi Ryouma about it. He told her to contact him if something happened, and nothing happened in the end!

Besides, the deadbeat hadn’t once reached out to her to see how the little girl who called him ‘Papa’ was even doing. Occasionally, she’d see Itoko clutching the jade magatama, whispering things like “I miss you, Papa” into it. The girl clearly missed him a lot! Hadn’t the bastard sworn to do better?!

Midoriko pushed thoughts of Enishi out of her mind. It would just give her a headache if she kept thinking about him. Instead, she watched Itoko scoop up spoonfuls of curry only to pour it back onto the plate.

Even if it was nothing, the incident today had seriously rattled the extremely sheltered child. She had been almost inconsolable when Midoriko walked into the apartment. Midoriko wanted to erase it from her sweet little head.

“How about we spend the day together doing something fun tomorrow?”

Itoko perked up at that. “Like what?”

The best thing Midoriko could do for Itoko was to get her out of the house. But where could they go? It had to be somewhere without a crowd, like a library or…

“Why don’t I take you to the museum where I work?” Midoriko smiled. Weekday mornings were the least busy time of day for visitors to the museum. It would be fine to bring her there even on a Friday morning.

“Yeah! Let’s go!” Itoko cheered. She began shoveling curry into her mouth, suddenly motivated to eat. “By the way, what’s a moo-zee-um?”