The Father’s Judgment

“Dad, you don’t know the whole story,” Gorō said, nervously tapping his heel on the floor. He sat on the sofa, leaning forward, with his legs astride, and his hands clasped together. “That ruddy bastard was annoying,” he grunted, recalling Shin Kawamura raising his hand at Megumi. “I had to beat him up.”

“For you to lose your nerve?” Denji muttered. He stopped tapping on his laptop, languidly took his mug and sipped some coffee. “What on earth happened?”

“Well,” Gorō muttered, “he threatened this girl, so I_”

“Oh?” Denji’s voice interrupted him. It had gained a tinge of amusement.

Gorō stopped and stared at his father. He clutched his hands, waiting for his verdict. Denji paused for a moment, reflecting. Then, he chuckled and put his mug down.

“It was a girl, then,” he said, with a teasing implication.

Gorō groaned and hung his head, but smiled. His father had understood his reason, so there’d be no punishment. But he had flipped his switch, too. Now, he was his usual, annoying self… his “civilian self”, as Gorō loved to call it.

“So, my son’s got a crush?” Denji turned around, smiling. Gorō grimaced at the silly sight of his circular glasses popped on his blue eyes – the accessory he always used at work. “Come on, spill the tea!” Denji grinned, his expression as bright as sunshine. “Who is she? Is she a hottie?”

“Piss off, Ol’ Man!” Gorō rolled his eyes, smiling, and lay down on the sofa, covering his flustered face with his arm. “She’s way above my league.”

“Whoa, overachiever!” Denji laughed. “But we don’t judge.” He winked. “Come on, tell me about her! What’s her name? What’s she like?”

“She’s a beauty, and I’m the beast.” Gorō snorted, in the mood for jokes at his expense. “Megumi Ichinose, first year. We’re seatmates.”

“Ichinose?” Denji raised his eyebrows. He chortled, took off his glasses and set them aside. “So, you fell for his daughter? Way to go, and right after Dazai became friends with his son!”

“Huh?” Gorō took his arm off his face and looked at his father. “Whom do you mean?”

“The prosecutor from my trial.” Denji smiled ruefully. “Keita Ichinose. Dazai befriended his son, Momochi Ichinose, in his first year of senior high school… back when you were still in juvie.” He sighed, remembering the horrible, lonely year he spent without his son. “When Jin told me about it, I laughed at the irony. And now you’re telling me you fell for his daughter?” He chuckled. “What are the odds? I can picture his face when he finds out our kids are seatmates!”

He hit his metal-fingered hand on his knee, amused by the news. Gorō, on the other hand, widened his eyes, a little pale. He stared at his father, dumbstruck.

“How is that a laughing matter, Ol’ Man?” He sat up on the sofa and put his feet down. “Musashi told me about Momochi Ichinose,” he said, referring to Dazai by his street name, ‘Musashi’. “He said that the dude’s too smart, and he’s the Student Council President, too! He has likely already told Megumi Ichinose about my juvie record. And now you’re telling me her father put you in jail?” He sank his head in dejection. “It’s hopeless, then! I’ll be lucky if she even greets me tomorrow.”

“A’ight, come on, don’t be so gloomy!” Denji hit him softly on the shoulder, smiling kindly. “You’ll have plenty of chances, don’t you worry… You’re a good kid, and girls love jocks like you. Now, let’s go eat! You must be hungry. I’ve fixed you up some yummy curry, my special recipe.”

“You cooked yourself?” Gorō brightened up. His father’s cooking was superb, but after his business revenue skyrocketed and they became multi-millionaires, the company expanded, and Denji had less time for household duties. So, the hired staff managed them.

“You bet!” Denji grinned. “You’re fresh out of juvie, after all,” he said more seriously, his smile turning rueful again. “This is the least I could do… Now, let’s go, and you tell me all about this girl of yours!” He winked, regaining his playful attitude. “Show me some pictures of her, will you?”

Thus, they went to the dining room to have dinner – just the two of them, as in old days, without the staff serving them. Gorō helped lay the table, and Denji put a big portion of delicious curry and rice on his plate. Gorō couldn’t help smiling. His father might not say it outright, but he was over the moon to have him back home from juvie.

They began eating. Gorō savoured every bite, having missed his father’s delicious home-cooked curry for the whole year he spent behind bars. He gave his phone to Denji, showing him Megumi’s Binstagram account.

Denji’s face lit up at Megumi’s pictures. She had lovely twin-tails, glasses, and an amiable smile… Her eyes glowed with undying optimism and a strange, hidden sorrow, the kind only intellectuals felt. Denji’s smile turned bittersweet as he scrolled through the pictures.

What a lovely child! He thought. Reminds me of myself…

The memories of his school years filled his mind when he was still a frail, innocent, kind-hearted kid with circular glasses. He played on his Game Boy during every break and dreamed of becoming a video game developer. But he studied at a lowly school due to poverty. His classmates were bulky boys more inclined to sports – something he sucked at. His prowess in Math and Computer Science made him a model student, though, and so the jocks’ parents praised him while rebuking their sons. As a result, Denji’s jock classmates bullied him, taking their resentment out on him.

One fateful day, the 16-year-old Denji Shimura’s Game Boy broke when the bullies beat him. He still remembered the tears he shed over the broken screen of his prized possession. But he feared telling his parents lest he worry them. That Game Boy was an expensive gift they had bought for his birthday, spending most of their expenses to make him happy. He wondered how to amass sufficient money to buy an identical model, so no one would know. As he sat in the courtyard and stared, dejected, at his broken treasure, shady senior students approached him. They offered him huge money, “enough to buy two Game Boys if he wanted”. He only had to use his “wicked computing skills everyone talked about” to hack a certain system.

Naive as he was at 16, Denji jumped on the offer. He fulfilled the request with ease, amazing the seniors, and was duly paid. He figured (to his misfortune, which he realised too late) that he could make easy money by staying in touch with those boys. One job led to another, then came shady dinner parties, and then tattoos. He became a part of the pack, with no way of return.

If I were a girl back then, my life might’ve turned out differently. He mused, gazing at Megumi’s smile with sorrow. Girls bully their peers about beauty and other such nonsense. That would’ve urged me to excel in my academic pursuits, not make me ashamed of my prowess! I’d probably be a lawful game developer by now, and a professor, to boot. There would be no prison life or all those suckers I dealt with for years…

He handed the phone back to Gorō. He floated in his thoughts, tapping his fingers on his knee. He reflected on Megumi Ichinose, who had already melted his hardened heart, and on his son’s fascination with her. He glanced at his son and back at his metal fingers. He sighed.

He had allowed Gorō to form his little gang and run about the streets since the child became interested in the criminal world in Middle School, when teenagers gain weird tastes. He was a lenient father, despite his wishes to the contrary. But this girl, Megumi Ichinose, was the hard line. He couldn’t let his delinquent son cross it… not in his present state. Gorō needed a little reality check.

“If you plan to continue your street games, you’d better forget about that girl,” he said. He glared at Gorō, sending shivers down his spine. “She’s got a future, and no time for thugs! If you want her company, you gotta climb on her level.”

Gorō blinked at him – his father, growing protective over a stranger’s daughter… His prosecutor’s daughter, at that! He smiled bitterly and pushed his phone back into his pocket.

“Yeah, I figured you’d say that,” he muttered, putting a spoonful of curry in his mouth. His father was a nerd back in school, so it was no surprise. I knew Megumi Ichinose reminded me of someone! He thought. It was my father, and he must’ve clocked it too. That’s why he’s so defensive.

He chuckled at the irony. The first girl he liked had reminded him of his father – nerdy and tough at the same time, a contradictory nature many would find troubling, but he adored.