The White Man and the Pachinko Girl

by Vann Chow

  “ Misa wa... ” the girl said hesitantly, “k yo wa, ko nai desho .” Misa probably won't come today, she said.

  “Ahh...!” The metal balls had all of sudden rolled away from him and concentrated in the upper corner of the tray. Only by his impressive reflex was he able to jam the tray back into its position in time to prevent it from tipping over to a disastrous mess. The impressive reflex, however, was not lenient to his brittle back. He had strained it again for nothing, Smith plopped himself back on the leather stool in agony.

  The waitress stood stunned beside him. Her mouth agape. In her mind, the imaginary movie of customers rolling backwards on stray metal balls on the floor played automatically. At the thought of having to deal with the consequences, she crinkled her nose.

  Smith gave her a weak smile to indicate that he could still make facial expression. That jolted the girl back to the moment and with a polite bow, she walked away and vanished into the next row, happy to rid the man from her sight.

  So it had been three days, Smith thought. He had gone to the Thunderbird for the last three days to catch Misa on her shift, but she did not show up at work one single time. To have the luxury of a three consecutive days off in her job would be highly unlikely.

  Should he be concerned? – In fact, he was already concerned. He was only retracing the mental steps that had led to his heightened uneasiness. He saw himself calling Misa and asked her if she was doing all right in his mind's eye. It would not be such an awkward thing.

  A commotion had broken out at the counter. A man had swept his hands on top of the counter top and sent everything on it, including a cash register crashing down to the floor. Its drawer didn't spring open, however, in contrary to urban myth, Smith observed. That idle thought seemed to capture only him, for the rest of the customers and staff alike in Thunderbird were grabbed by the tumult that had unfolded behind the counter, for the man had jumped over to the other side to grab one of the managerial staffs who had so far been able to dodge her attacker. It didn't, however, kept her from screaming for help.

  “ Yamede kudasai! Stop it, please! I'll call the police! Tatsu-kun, you better stop now!” She ducked behind a stool when he lunged at her.

  Tatsu-kun ? – Smith stood up, this time, avoided ramming himself against any part of the machine, and peered at the origin of the commotion.

  “Why did you fire her? What did she do wrong?” The man was but a boy. It was Tatsu, Misa's brother.

  Before he could answer his own questions about whether the boy deserved to have his ass saved a second time or if it was healthy for someone with his injuries to be lunging about so violently, Smith had already leaped over to Tatsu's side and tryied to pry the boy away from the woman. She was Katsumi Saitou from Nabuo group, the woman that had given him his award money, the head of treasury of Thunderbird district in the Nabuo empire.

  “Mr. Sumisu!” She said in a shrill voice, recognizing him. “Keep him away from me!” She said in Japanese.

  “Stop it! Stop it!” Smith tried to tear the boy away from her, yet he was more stubborn than Andy had described him. He wedged himself between the boy and Miss Saitou in desperation. Miss Saitou took the opportunity and ducked behind Smith to avoid the boy's maddening grip.

  Frustrated that the boy was not slowing down, Smith shoved him backwards with all his might. Tatsu tumbled backward and smashed his back against the countertop.

  His groans of pain made Smith feel guilty almost instantly, but he didn't show.

  “Just chill! See what you've gotten yourself into?” He asked, referring not just to this event, but the one that caused him to lay in the hospital last time. Smith had forgotten that he was speaking English. That seemed to irritate the boy even more. He shoved Smith back in revenge. Smith remained in his spot unfazed as if he was merely kissed by a mosquito.

  “ Nani ga kidanno ka ? What's going on?” The security finally arrived. He took Smith's place between Tatsu and Miss Saitou without excusing himself.

  “ Nase ane wa kobi ni shida? Why did you fire my sister?” Tatsu said, in between his gasps for air, “ Kanojo wa, machigai de nanimonai! She didn't do anything wrong.”

  Smith strained his ears trying to understand the Japanese.

  “After the way you two behaved, do you think I'll give her her job back?” Miss Saitou said. “Her arubaito (part-time) is against our company policy! Especially when it is something so unseemly like this... We'll not let her come back to pollute the other girl's minds.”

  Surprised gasps filled the background. Some of the waitresses that worked with Misa wheezed. They held each other's hands in support. Everyone who listened had understood the cause of her discharge. All, perhaps except Tatsu himself.

  “That is total nonsense! Stop pretending to be so noble! She's working for someone other than Nabuo group, that's why you fired her!” Tatsu ran his hand on the counter, grabbing the first hard object he could find.

  At that moment Smith had had enough with the boy. He slapped his palm hard on the boy's fist, making him drop his weapon, and he wrung his arms around the boy's shoulder to wheel him around. Naturally, Tatsu resisted.

  Yet, the boy's strength was afterall no match to Smith, who also had the advantage of his height. Despite Tatsu's kicking and screaming, Smith lifted him by the waist and carried him outside of the parlor. Tatsu could do nothing against it but dropped one of his own dirty sneakers in the process. The security guard furrowed at the pair and asked Miss Saitou whether he should call the police, but Miss Saitou merely shook her head sadly to everyone's relief.

  The security guard picked up the stray shoe and threw them out.

  Everyone returned to their business when the sliding glass door at the entrance closed behind them.

  Outside of the kitchen door in the corner, Aiko sucked in a deep breath. She had hidden herself behind the tower of used glasses. Thank god Miss Saitou didn't say it was her who told on Misa. She ran her fingers down her bleached blond hair and noticed that they were all tangled. Time to buy new shampoo.

  “What do you want from me?” Tatsu turned around to stare at Smith after he was dropped outside of Thunderbird. “I don't know you!” He snorted, but the jerking of motion of his head had made him coughed in pain instead.

  “You're not well. And unstable. I'm going to see you home,” Smith explained simply. He raised a hand to hail a passing taxi, which stopped right beside them with its door slightly ajar in no time.

  “Jump in!” He commanded the boy and climbed into the back of the taxi himself.

  Tatsu stood beside it biting his lips. That was a sign of suppressed physical pains, Smith observed. He leaned out the door and beckoned at Tatsu.

  “ Watashiwa Misa no domotachi desu. I'm Misa's friend. Anata wa Misa no otosan desu. You're Misa's brother. Anata no men o sukuuda . I saved your life.” Smith enumerated in Japanese. “ Watashi wa Anata no domotachi desu. I am your friend.”

  The simple rationale had Tatsu convinced, but he wasn't going to let on.

  “ Baka. ” Tatsu cursed under his breath and crawled in to the cabin. That set the taxi driver glaring at the unlikely pair of friends from the reflection in his mirror in curiosity.

  30. The Pain of Reality

  “The place is small. Careful not to trip on anything,” Tatsu said as he opened the door to him and Misa's flat. He threw his key chain on the uneven folding table and went straight for the bathroom.

  Since he was left alone, Smith felt no shame pacing from one side of the wall to another of the living room, measuring its dimensions. For he was struck by how much more spacey it appeared, even though his measurements confirmed the apartment to be merely 8 square meters, similar to his own living area. Without waiting for an invitation, he peered into the only room in the flat without a thread of shame in him. He persuaded himself that he was only checking it out in case he had to carry Tatsu into his bedroom for rest later, and kept a clear conscience.

  There was no door to the bedroom but a sliding s
hoji, a wooden frame that had semi-transparent papers as panels. It was then that he realized it was his first time to ever see a real Japanese home, not one of those western styled apartments or houses that were rid of any features of traditional Japanese architecture his Japanese colleagues owned. Behind the divider, there was no bed – no bed in the traditional Western sense. A single, unmade blanket draped over a thin mat that seemed to be made out of the same material, laid near the wall on the left. Another folded set was stowed neatly in the right corner. – He had never considered sleeping on the floor. How did the Japanese do it without waking up every morning with an aching back?

  After fussing about for twenty minutes in the toilet, Tatsu came out crashing down into the bean bag on the floor. The lack of proper cushioning was hurting him, and he showed it. Smith, who had been standing by the folding table as any disciplined guest would, skidded over to his side immediately to take a look at the bandage around his chest. The boy had somehow managed to replace it by himself. Smith stretched Tatsu's legs out with care and removed the boy's shoes for him.

  Tatsu chuckled.

  Smith followed his gaze and discovered that there was a hole in his own right sock. Smith had taken his shoes off to avoid scratching what seemed to be newly waxed floor. And a terrible looking toe was poking out of the hole.

  “Where's Misa?” Smith asked, ready to shift the focus away from his feet. “I'm going to call her and ask her to come back to take care of you.” With nothing better to do, Smith could keep an eye on the boy on his own for a couple of hours this evening until she returned, but his secret agenda prompted him to choose any plan that involved Misa earlier.

  Tatsu decided that he should make the call himself, but she didn't pick up.

  Having heard what Tatsu said earlier in Thunderbird, the possibility of where Misa could be now bothered Smith greatly. He noticed that her brother was getting equally worried. Tatsu squeezed his cell phone so hard to his face in anxiousness that screen was completely smeared with layers of perspiration and facial oil.

  With each unanswered ring, Tatsu's face turned redder. Before Tatsu could react, Smith snatched his phone over and copied Misa's number into his own cell. When he returned Tatsu's cell phone, the two of them began calling her at the same time, with even more urgency than an insurance salesman who couldn't make his quota on the last day of the month.

  “Hello!” Smith got through before he could realize it. His voice echoed in his earpiece and remained unanswered for a short moment. Then the call ended with a beep. He knew he should have spoken Japanese instead.

  “ Nan to iuu taka? What did she say?” Tatsu asked even though he knew the call was too short for anything to be said. He dialed his sister's cell phone number again.

  “Misa!” His call was also picked up, and this time, she didn't hang up.

  She would explain everything then with a simple and logical answer, Smith thought. When Smith's daughter turned twenty-one, he had his fair share of worries. And yet after all the heartburn, she turned out fine. Could Misa not have been out chatting with her girlfriends about whatever girls in her age chat about, and had forgotten about the time? Or perhaps she was out on a date, watching a movie? Though the thought of her and Andy left a bitter taste in his mouth. After all, she was just fired from her job. Not many girls at eighteen could say proudly that they had a job, to begin with, and if she had wanted a little bit of time to herself, be a little less predictable, she could hardly be blamed for acting her age once in a while.

  In any case, the brother and sister were communicating. He felt relief slowly crawling back into him.

  Yet, Tatsu lowered his arm before a second had gone by. His face was pale as fresh snow. The phone rolled off his fingers and landed next to the bean bag.

  Smith gritted his teeth in anticipation.

  The boy's tough countenance started to crumble. His eyes, nose, and mouth, culled up like a tight fist and tears started streaming down his face. Smith reached for the phone, but Tatsu noticed despite the fact that his eyes were filled with hot tears. The two wrestled for the phone and by chance, one of them, they couldn't tell even themselves who did it, clicked the loudspeaker button.

  “ Ahh...ahh...ahh! Ahh! ”

  Misa's repeated shrills pierced through Smith's heart and set it pounding with a mixture of fear and anger.

  The last gasp that was particularly lengthier and more trembly had turned even a grown man like Smith, who had in his lifetime seen enough salacious Hollywood movies and had his fair share of sex, completely red in the face. He had been subconsciously holding his breath, and that hit him with a powerful, ripping chest pain. Smith's knees buckled. He squatted next to Tatsu, who was now sobbing violently.

  Smith closed his eyes and focused on setting the rhythm of his breath straight again. No chance of helping the boy, and his sister, if he was going to get a heart attack now.

  Tatsu hung up and avoided what further damage the sound of his own sister being violated – he did not want to think that she was a willing victim – could do to his head.

  Yet Misa's voice seemed to reverberate in his eardrums long after the sound waves dissipated.

  “She said... she was fine.” At last, Tatsu spat out these words of hers through his trembling lips as if they disgusted him.

  Smith opened his eyes and squinted compassionately at Tatsu. He was shell-shocked himself. He could only imagine how the young boy felt.

  How do other people handle a situation like this?

  The phone rang on without stopping. The Doraemon ring tone irritated Masao. He picked up Misa's call and someone said “Hello” in English back at him. Taken by surprise, he hung up before Misa could protest.

  “Who the fuck was that, Misa-chan?” In fact, he was, as usual, not waiting for her answer. He had noticed the caller's name on the the display. He knew distinctively that it was a man's name, and he was a gaijin . Through a complex yet faulty reasoning on the limited information, which killed his erection almost in an instance, he had arrived at the conclusion that the caller was another one of Misa's clients. “This is my time, you're on my time, Misa-chan!”

  Masao was angry.

  Misa had always known that it would be difficult with Masao-san. Triggered by the most unexpected events, his tenderness could dissolve into murderous villainy as easy as flipping a switch on the wall. And the rising fire inside him, a self-deficiency complex that could combust readily at any moment, had cooked his head through and through this time.

  “A successful man such as I am,” he thought to himself, “deserves to be treated with respect.”

  Raged, he pulled Misa out of the bed and thrust her over to the writing desk. He turned her around, and with a light push, he pushed Misa's face and her upper torso on the surface of the desk.

  The hook of Misa's left earring pressed threateningly close to her neck and pricked her skin. She struggled to roll her head around to keep it from piercing her skin. Not mindful of the signs of her resistant was unrelated to her defiance, Masao slapped his palm against her cheek to keep her down.

  Misa screamed in fear as the hook scratched her neck.

  During that maniacal moment, Masao's penis had grown back to its full size.

  “It was just my brother calling!” Misa pleaded willing to say anything to be released, yet she opted for the truth. “There must be something since he called so many times!” The truth could sound so unconvincing sometimes.

  Misa's cell phone rang again. It might well be Misa's brother, but Masao didn't care.

  “You're hurting me. Let me go!” Misa stiffened her back to try to gain a few millimeter of space off from the surface of the table top. Masao only shifted his weight on to her himself.

  “You've said it was your brother,” Masao said coldly. “Okay, I'll let you talk to your brother now!”

  He pressed the phone to her right ear and inserted himself at the same time inside Misa. A diabolical smile of exhilaration flitted across his face.


  “Answer him.” He shouted and clicked the green button with his thumb. The call connected while he pushed himself deeper into Misa's uterus.

  “Misa!”, Misa heard her brother call her name and felt the air go out of her – This was the most awful thing she had to do in her life, she then realized. The realization made her body tremble by itself without Masao's help. This was a psychological torturous deed Masao was doing to her. Misa could concede on anything for a good buck. She had never let any wild, impractical dream run wild in her head and poison her with virtues of dignity. The single wish she had, she spoke now to the Lord of her fate, had always been to keep Tatsu forever out of her messy, dirty world, and that seemed to be the exact opposite of Masao's intention now.

  The hook on the back of her earring pricked the skin on her neck intermittently at Masao's every move. She could feel the sharp metal pin scraping against her shoulder blade, retreating, then back again.

  The multitude of concerns and sensations had shot her well outside of her safety zone. Her defense system shut down and she started sobbing.

  She prayed to shin. And she promised she would return to the shrine to pay her thanks if she could get out of here alive.

  With considerable will, she blocked out all physical sensations. However strange this might sound, her body had gotten accustomed, or even numb, to the sex plays that ranged anything from gentle to potentially disfigurative. But there had always been a bottom line. She did not think that she would be in this situation where there was none.

  She found it impossible to maintain a steady, logical flow of words while imagining the needle drilling into her neck and ripping her veins apart, but she had to.

  An “I am fine” gushed out of her mouth between Masao's violent thrusts and that was all she could manage to say, her ultimate effort to shield the depressing nature of her work from her little brother. Then she gave way to the sharp pains she could not avoid.