Mismatch

by Lensey Namioka

  “The yakuza have tattoos,” said Haruko. “That’s why not many kids have them.”

  “The yakuza are Japanese gangsters,” Andy explained to Sue. “They’re like the Mafia.”

  “So you can’t even have a tiny little flower tattooed on your ankle?” Sue asked Haruko. “Not even your boyfriend’s name, or just ‘Mom’?”

  “Tattoos are mostly for yakuza,” repeated Haruko. “And Americans have other fads, too, like piercing. They have rings in their ears, nose, lips, or eyebrows.”

  “Or other places I won’t mention,” muttered Andy.

  “Don’t Japanese kids do any piercing?” asked Sue.

  “Some do, but my parents wouldn’t let me,” Haruko said primly. “Besides, our school has a rule against piercing. So if someone has a ring in his nose, he has to take it out for school.”

  “Things are more uniform here, that’s for sure,” said Sue. “Maybe that’s why there’s so much discrimination against immigrants, who are different. My host family, the Chongs, are Korean. They have a hard time living in Japan.”

  “Why don’t they go back to Korea, then?” grumbled Haruko.

  Sue shook her head. “Koreans were brought to Japan as forced labor, Mrs. Chong said. They’re like the freed African slaves in America, who found that they had no home to return to in Africa.”

  “Okay, you mention African slaves,” crowed Haruko. “So you Americans can’t criticize other people for discrimination, when black people have such a bad time in America.”

  Andy jumped in. “You just called us ‘you Americans.’ Does that mean you admit that Sue and I are real Americans, after all?”

  For a few seconds, the three of them just stared at one another, breathing hard. Then Andy and Haruko spoke at the same time. “Peace!” said Haruko, while Andy said, “Truce!”

  They all burst out laughing. Finally Andy said, “Come on, let’s go and look around some more.” He turned to Sue. “You put up with me while I searched for my roots. Now it’s your turn. What do you want to see?”

  Sue gave a grin that was both shy and mischievous, the one that Andy liked so much. “How about searching for my roots in that store over there?” She pointed at a big sign over a store across the street. “I recognize those characters. They say ‘Chinese Store.’ ”

  The store was huge, and it contained heaps of miscellaneous objects, many of them familiar to Andy from Chinatown back home. It felt strange to be browsing through a Chinese store in Tokyo. He was struck by a sudden idea. While the two girls were busy looking at some brocade jackets, Andy hurried to the toy department.

  He had just finished paying for his purchase and having it wrapped when Sue and Haruko came up. “What did you get?” asked Sue.

  “It’s a surprise,” Andy said. To change the subject, he asked quickly, “Can’t find anything you like?”

  “No point in buying stuff that I can get back home,” said Sue.

  “Things here are cheap,” said Haruko. “They come directly from China.”

  Sue made a face. “I guess most Chinese things must look cheap to you.”

  To Andy’s surprise, Haruko shook her head. “My father comes here to buy ink stick. He said the best ink stick he ever found was from this store.”

  In addition to the Chinese store, the street had a number of small shops selling a variety of hardware. They walked past an area Haruko called Kimchee Alley, kimchee being Korean pickled cabbage. Andy could detect a strong smell of garlic in the air. I guess this neighborhood must still be the Lower Town for the underprivileged, since it contains second-class citizens like the Chinese, the Koreans, and old women who look like my great-grandmother.

  Farther down the block, Andy heard clicking and saw a place filled with vertical pinball machines. He remembered his father’s description. “Pachinko!” he cried.

  “What’s pachinko?” asked Sue.

  “‘Pachinko’ means pinball machine,” explained Andy. “Only the panels are vertical, instead of horizontal. My dad says it’s hugely popular in Japan. If you win, you can get all sorts of prizes, like cigarettes, candy, liquor, and stuff.”

  He turned to Sue. “Let’s go in and try our luck.”

  Haruko hung back. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Kids aren’t allowed, anyway.”

  Andy was confident that he was tall enough to pass for an adult. “Okay, if you don’t want to go in,” he said to Haruko, “then Sue and I are going in and you can wait outside. We’ll just be a minute.”

  Andy went to the cashier, who didn’t seem to care about his age, and paid for a container of little steel balls. Then he seated himself at a vacant machine and began to feed the balls in and pull the lever. He sent the little balls whizzing through their paths. They all disappeared.

  Sue, who was watching a man playing at another machine, said to Andy, “I think you need skill, not luck.” A whirring noise sounded, and a cascade of little balls fell into the man’s dish. With hardly a pause, he began to feed some of the balls back into the machine. Soon, another cascade of balls fell into his dish.

  Andy was beginning to think Sue was right. He went back to the cashier and paid for some more balls. But he had no better luck on his next try. He used up his batch of balls without getting any back. “I’ve had better luck at slot machines,” he said with a sigh.

  Haruko had been fidgeting at the entrance. She stepped forward and whispered nervously, “Come on, let’s go!” Without waiting for his reply, she turned abruptly and bumped into a man carrying a container of balls. Some of the balls fell on the ground and scattered.

  The man grabbed Haruko by the arm and began to snarl curses. At least, they sounded like curses. Andy didn’t know any of the words.

  Haruko tried to pull away, but the man’s grip only tightened. As he extended his arm, his tattoos became visible. Andy felt a chill down his spine. The yakuza! Without giving himself time to think, he got up and ran over to the man. “Let her go,” he said in Japanese, narrowing his eyes and making his voice as menacing as possible.

  “I’m all right, Andy,” gasped Haruko. But she looked scared to death.

  “For the last time,” Andy said between his teeth, “let her go!”

  “What’s going on?” said Sue, rushing over. She spoke in English.

  Startled, the tattooed man turned to Sue. “American?” he asked.

  In his surprise, the man’s grip loosened, and Haruko wrenched her arm free. She poured a torrent of words at the man, of which Andy understood only a few, “guests,” and “visitors from America.”

  The man grunted something, turned his back on them, and began to pick up his scattered balls.

  “Let’s go,” hissed Haruko. Andy and Sue didn’t need any urging. They quickly followed Haruko out into the street.

  They hurried down the block, and slowed only when they could no longer see the sign of the pachinko parlor. Andy wiped the sweat from his eyes. “Yakuza?” he asked.

  “Yes,” said Haruko in a low voice. “Many pachinko parlors controlled by the yakuza. That’s another reason I didn’t want to go there.”

  Andy shook his head. “That’s something my dad didn’t tell me.” After a moment, he added, “You know, I think I’ve seen enough of the Lower Town.”

  Sue looked at her watch. “It’s getting late, anyway. We’d better head back. I don’t want to keep Mrs. Chong waiting.”

  As they made their way to the train station, Haruko turned to Andy. “Thank you for helping me, Andy. That was very brave.”

  “Not brave,” muttered Andy, shuddering as he thought of what the yakuza member might have done to him. “Just plain stupid.”

  He sighed. He had finally gained Haruko’s respect— but not quite the way he had planned.

  13

  When the Lakeview players met at the school on Monday, they had so much to say to each other about their day off that Mr. Baxter gave up trying to get the rehearsal started. He realized that he had to let them talk themselves out firs
t.

  Nathan was showing off a handheld game he had bought in Akihabara, a neighborhood with lots of electronics stores. Laurie told Andy her host family had taken her to Yokohama. “We rode the Bullet Train,” she said. “The whole trip lasted about fifteen minutes, and we arrived before I knew we had even left Tokyo!”

  Andy was envious. “One of the things I wanted to do in Japan was take the Bullet Train. My dad told me so much about it.”

  “The train we took, the Kodama, wasn’t even the fastest train,” said Laurie. “The Hikari is faster, and the Nozomi is the fastest of all. But they go on different lines.”

  “What did you do in Yokohama?” asked Sue, coming over. “It’s the port city for Tokyo, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it’s where all the big ocean liners come in,” said Laurie. “But guess what? We ate lunch in Chinatown! Yokohama has the biggest Chinatown in Japan.”

  There were squeals from some of the girls. Ginny was waving a silk scarf she had bought at a store in Ginza. “Ginza is like Fifth Avenue, Rodeo Drive, and Bond Street all rolled into one!” she was saying breathlessly.

  Andy caught Sue’s eye. “I’ve heard of Fifth Avenue and Rodeo Drive, but what’s Bond Street?” he asked.

  Sue laughed. “Like I’d know! That scarf cost almost ten thousand yen, which is way out of my budget.”

  “Mine, too,” said Andy. He looked curiously at Sue. “Are you sorry we didn’t go to Ginza?”

  Sue laughed again. “What’s the point? There’s no fun just salivating.”

  “So what did you do in Tokyo, Sue?” Ginny asked, coming over. “It must have been a little like coming home for you, right?”

  Andy could see the annoyance in Sue’s eyes, but she answered in a level voice. “No, Ginny, Tokyo was not like home. I’m Chinese American, remember?”

  “Oops, sorry!” said Ginny. “But you know what I mean. You don’t look any different from the Japanese. Doesn’t it make you feel more at home when you look the same as the people around you?”

  Sue sighed loudly. “You mean I don’t look like a freak here, the way I do in America? Then you’d feel right at home in Moscow, since lots of Russians have blond hair like yours, right?”

  “Hair color isn’t everything, Ginny,” said Mia. “That Japanese girl . . . what’s her name . . . Harko . . . she’s got blond hair, the same color as yours!”

  Sue and Mia started to giggle. “Okay, okay,” said Ginny. She turned to Andy. “But at least it’s like home-coming for you, isn’t it?”

  “No, it isn’t,” said Andy. “Not really. I feel like a stranger here, too. I made a fool of myself when I almost wore the toilet slippers into the living room.”

  “What did you do on Sunday, Mia?” asked Sue.

  “My host family took me to historical places, like the Meiji Shrine and the Imperial Palace,” said Mia. “They thought I’d want to see the most important sites in Tokyo.”

  “What was the palace like?” asked Nathan. “Was it full of samurai swords and armor? I went to the Tower of London once, and there were these suits of armor all over the place.”

  “I didn’t see any armor,” said Mia. “In fact, most of the place was closed to the public. But the gardens were pretty nice.”

  Listening to all the kids talking about what they had done, Andy was struck by how completely different their experiences had been. They might have gone to different cities in different countries. Could any of them say that what they had seen was typically Japanese?

  He had asked Haruko to take him to the Lower Town so he could see things he thought were part of the real Japan. But now he had to admit that Haruko had a point. What the other kids had seen—Ginza, the electronics center, the Imperial Palace, the Bullet Train—they were part of the real Japan, too.

  Had he found his roots during the trip? No, he had found instead that he was more American than he had realized. He was no more part of this Japan than Sue was part of that Chinese store they had browsed in.

  Mr. Baxter finally called his players together, and they filed into the auditorium. The rehearsal was short, because the conductor didn’t want to tire them out before the concert that evening. At the end, Mr. Baxter smiled at the orchestra. “Okay, people, just remember to play the same notes again this evening.”

  “Scared?” Sue asked Andy as they stood in front of the school, waiting to be picked up by their host families.

  “Not nearly as scared as I was in that pachinko parlor,” said Andy. His heart still skipped a beat every time he thought about the tattooed yakuza.

  “All I noticed about the man was that he was missing his little finger on one hand,” said Sue, with a shudder. “Haruko told me afterwards that many yakuza cut off their little finger as an apology for doing something wrong.”

  Andy winced. He was glad he hadn’t known about this gruesome custom before. “Can we talk about something else? I need all my fingers to play the violin!”

  But he wasn’t allowed to forget about the episode in the pachinko parlor. That night, he had dinner one last time with his host family. Instead of sitting on chairs around the dining table, they ate in the Japanese-style room, sitting on the floor around a low table. It was going to be a formal occasion.

  When Andy came into the room, Mr. Sato put his hands flat on the floor and bowed to him. Andy was confused. Wasn’t he supposed to bow to his hosts like that and thank them for their hospitality? He hurriedly got down on the floor and bowed back, as deeply as he could manage. “I thank you for taking me into your home and treating me like a member of the family,” he said to the floor, keeping his head an inch above the tatami mat.

  “No, it is I who must thank you for saving our daughter, Haruko, from the yakuza yesterday,” said Mr. Sato.

  Then, to Andy’s intense embarrassment, the elder Mr. Sato and Mrs. Sato bowed to him as well. Haruko sat silent, but she was looking at him with a faint smile. A smile that contained no trace of her former contempt.

  Andy cleared his throat. “No, listen. Haruko tried her best to talk me out of going to the pachinko parlor. It was entirely my fault that we went there in the first place.”

  To Andy’s relief, all the Satos finally sat up. Mr. Sato smiled. “I’m not talking about why you went to the pachinko parlor. What I’m saying is that you showed real courage in facing the yakuza and telling him to let go of Haruko.”

  “I didn’t know what I was doing,” mumbled Andy.

  “But you did know that the man was a yakuza, didn’t you?” said Haruko.

  “Well, to be completely honest, I didn’t suspect he was a yakuza until I saw the tattoo,” admitted Andy. “By that time, it was too late.”

  “Even then, you didn’t back down,” said Haruko. The admiration in her eyes made him blush. He put his finger inside his collar to loosen it. For the concert, he had put on his white shirt and his suit and tie. Even with air-conditioning, he was feeling warm.

  Mrs. Sato began to serve dinner. She brought in a separate tray for each person, containing little dishes of various shapes and sizes. Back home, on very special occasions, Andy’s parents had taken him to fancy Japanese restaurants where they served food like this. He knew that there would be successive trays coming. There was only a tiny amount of food in each of the dishes, but they were in contrasting shapes and colors. Together, they made a gorgeous arrangement.

  Mrs. Sato also brought in a tray with a little white porcelain bottle and tiny stemmed cups. She filled four of the cups and handed them around to her father-in-law, her husband, Haruko, and Andy. He discovered that the liquid served was sake.

  “I know that you must not drink too much because of the concert later,” said Mr. Sato. “But I should like to give a toast, at least.” He raised his cup, and the others followed suit. “To our guest, Andrew Suzuki. Let us hope this first meeting will not be the last.”

  Andy did his best to think of a graceful reply, but all he could think of was “You have made your house feel like home to me.”

>   At Andy’s reply, Haruko broke out into a soft laugh. Both Mr. and Mrs. Sato were beaming. Andy hoped they weren’t reading more into his reply than he intended. He felt a strong urge to take off his tie.

  They began to eat. Andy tasted some yellowish paste, which Haruko told him was made from sea urchin eggs. It was delicious, and Andy tried not to think about where it came from.

  Mr. Sato cleared his throat and looked at Andy. “I confess that I looked over the list of players in the Lakeview orchestra, and when I saw your name, I made inquiries. I was told that you were a most promising player, and that you would be one of the soloists for the Bach concerto.”

  “So you actually asked to be the host for Andy?” asked Haruko.

  “Yes, I asked for Andy specifically,” replied Mr. Sato. “And now I see that it was an excellent choice.”

  Andy knew that many Lakeview orchestra members went to the families they had hosted last year in Seattle, while the rest of the host families had been determined largely by drawing lots. It seemed that someone influential, like Mr. Sato, could choose the player he would host. If Haruko had been given the choice, of course, she would have chosen someone like Mia.

  Mr. Sato was studying Andy closely. “The other morning, you said your father tried to teach you to appreciate a Zen garden. It shows taste. And your courage in facing the yakuza, it makes me suspect that your father is descended from a samurai family, perhaps?”

  “No, his family were not samurai,” Andy said firmly. “They were originally farmers.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Mr. Sato, looking disappointed. He ate some grilled fish and picked at some marinated spinach.

  “You can be adopted into a samurai family,” said the elder Mr. Sato.

  Andy tugged at his collar again. Were the Satos sizing him up as a potential husband for Haruko? He tried to imagine Sue’s family grilling him on his background. “Was your grandfather a Mandarin, or did he fail his official examinations?” Sue’s mother would ask.

  Two more trays followed, each with different kinds of food, and Andy lost count of how many little dishes he ate from. He looked at Mrs. Sato and wondered how she could have prepared this feast and still looked so elegant. “I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble,” he told her.