Day 5 Part: V

We were walking alongside a canal, the water a refreshingly transparent blue, that ran through a neighborhood's backside. The property walls were over-brimming with floral displays of modest pink and purple, the chirping trees of sprouting green, and sometimes an owner would be swatting their futons and sheets. I was worried Sean might turn into a different person with an onslaught of excessive expressive freedom, but he acted much the same, if only slightly more upbeat compared to his usual reserved face. It was as though we were some neighbors who happened upon each other on our afternoon strolls and struck up a conversation about the weather, the quaint gardens, or the particular disposition of the mountains that day--which was, as Sean put it, while we stood on a bridge that led from the houses to the town, “A nice view.”

The mountains seemed shorter and flatter from our vantage point than they had that previous morning by the river, but it still imposed itself with the magnitude not of some grandiose divinity, so awe-inspiring that it shakes one's core, but with the modest assertion of supremacy over us fickle human beings--a philosophy, I wondered, possible only by a constant kinship between man and the Earth. “It’s strange,” I began to say, “Never mind.”

“What?”

“It’s stupid.”

“I like to hear your thoughts.”

“O-okay well then,” I cleared my throat, “I was thinking about how I was feeling a little bit of culture shock that Japan could have all these cities surrounded by mountains, that the imposing force of nature--” I had taken a somewhat pompous tone, “--is only ever a glance away, but then I remembered L.A., Seattle, Denver. There’s actually a lot. America has plenty of mountains.”

“But not everywhere.”

“True. Maybe it’s a Virginia thing.”

“What about the Appalachians?”

“Oh. Yeah. I forgot. But those aren’t cities like this place is. They’re just suburbs that had the luxury of a market street back in the day and now have too high a population to be called a small town.”

“Isn’t that how it works? Like, everything starts out small but grows over time. Take Edo. A fishing town until Tokugawa Ieyasu switched homes and look what became of that.”

“What do you mean? I’ve never heard of Edo.”

“Well, uh, it became Tokyo.”

I appreciated the newfound slice of history--for wasn’t that one of the objectives of my pilgrimage?--and with this revelation, we crossed the bridge back to the main part of town.

A few blocks away, Sean spotted an arcade. I was worried that he may try his hand at a crane game and waste his money trying to win me a deliberately disfigured bunny plushie or that he’d take a hands-on approach to teach me the rhythm games by guiding my hands through a medium-difficulty level like we were at a prom dance. He did neither. We played the games we wanted to play and when Sean inevitably wandered towards the rhythm games, I watched, studying his movements, then tried my best to emulate him when he offered me a go. As I played, he stepped aside, tracking my progress and noting my shortcomings, though only offering his advice if I prompted him. He spoke only to ask if I wanted to continue. When I’d dealt the fatal blow to my ego--three straight D rankings--we ventured upstairs to the more adult-oriented games of computerized gambling, though not technically since it was tokens instead of money. There was a nauseating scent of man and cigarettes that put a heavy strain on Sean’s senses. We left.

Half a block away from the arcade, Sean said, “Here, I got something for you.” He rummaged through his hoodie pocket. He pulled out a key chain of a chibi astronaut on the moon and dangled it off the edge of his finger. It twirled as though the astronaut had gotten lost and was trying to reconfigure himself facing the Earth. “I won it,” he said, though I don’t know when he could have had the chance, “For you.”

“T-thanks.”

“May I?”

“I don’t have any keys on me”

“I meant your backpack.”

“Oh, sure.” I turned around and when he touched my backpack it was as though he were brushing my hair to the side to fasten a necklace.

“Done,” he said, and I turned around to meet him looking unabashedly at the ground. I brought my backpack around to my front. The imitation metal chimed. “You like it then?”

“Yeah,” I wished I had a haiku to express my gratitude, “I love it.”

“I’m glad. You always said you wanted to be an astronaut growing up.”

“Did I?” I said as though I had forgotten when really I had long given up on the endeavor for lack of fortitude, both physical and mental, and felt the regret most adults feel having inevitably let down their younger selves.

“On Halloween, you’d dress up as one.”

“Oh yeah,” I laughed at the memory of myself in the mirror. My mother didn’t believe in buying costumes, especially when she could sew, so oftentimes I turned out looking more like a robot than an astronaut. However, it took me a few years to realize why the adults would give me a patronizing smile when I told them what I was. After that, I insisted on doing cosplay to my mother’s dismay, though she still made the costumes which, I think now, are boxed up in my old bedroom. “I remember doing that.”

“Three years in a row.”

“And now I don't know what the hell I want to do. Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve gone trick-or-treating. Not that I have the stomach for that anymore.”

“That surprises me. You still have a sweet tooth.”

“I do, but candy doesn’t taste as good as it used to. I’m more into adult desserts now like parfaits.”

“Like at the maid cafe?” I would have given some rebuke after having been thus called out, but Sean’s lips were prepared to say you’re cute, and, although never vocalized, I felt that that sort of witticism wouldn’t have been right.

“Thanks for the keychain.”

“Of course.”

We encountered a high school that looked like the manifestation of all Japanese high school depictions, full of club rooms, fenced rooftops, and a boom gate to enforce the attendance policy. It was open and I took this to signify that we were allowed on the property, despite not being students and there being no cultural festival. We didn’t enter the main building but explored the entrance campus. From the detached gyms where we heard the sneaker squeaks of basketball practice and next to them was a parking garage, not for cars, but for bicycles that, at this hour, housed only a few. Marveling at the necessity for such a thing, I climbed the stairs to the second level and saw behind another building the school pool to the left, and on the right conjoined to the gyms were the club rooms where I could imagine a senpai asking me for a helping hand.

“I just realized,” I said to Sean who had reluctantly followed, “if you got held back a year, doesn’t that make me you’re senpai?” I had asked partly out of the humor of the suggestion but also slightly out of curiosity if seniority was granted solely on age or rank or some combination of the two.

Before he could answer, assuming he had one to muster, a girl in a basketball uniform climbed the club room stairs and the weight of our infraction paralyzed us to the more suspicious state of a sustained stare. She didn’t notice us at first, but once she found her key and before putting it in the door, she saw us. We looked at each other as though neither belonged there. I, clearly not a student in her eyes. She, an intrusion to my delusion of our allotted permission. We bowed, neither sure what was proper. Then I started to wave, as though this were a moment of cultural exchange, and she quickly bowed again, jabbed her key into the door, and fumbled to get it open like I were a villain from some horror movie spoof.

Sean hauled me off the school property before I drew any more attention. If we were lucky, our presence would be nothing more than a fable presented by that senior club member--for I assumed she must've been to have the club room keys-- to a group of trusted friends who hopefully did not work part-time at the melon bread stand.