Tokyo Hearts: A Japanese Love Story (8 page)

Takashi’s train pulled into Y
ga station and he ascended up and out past the exit and into the street. Although he’d been to Y
ga a couple of times before, this would be the first time he’d visited his cousin’s house there. They’d settled here in the spring. Katsuro and his wife had just recently returned from a two-year working stint in Australia and Katsuro’s company had provided them with this lovely house when they’d returned to Japan. It was a very convenient location for them, as it was close to the parks and shops in the neighbouring town of Futako-Tamagawa. Y
ga was also a very respectable town in the district of Setagaya, and because of its proximity to central Tokyo, it was an enviable place in which to live.

Takashi checked the e-mail his cousin had sent him with the directions to his house and walked the two blocks from the station to his home. He rang the doorbell at their pretty brick entrance. It was surrounded by rose bushes drooping in the rain.

Katsuro’s wife Mika answered the door and Takashi greeted her with a big smile.

‘My dear Takashi,’ she said. ‘Come on inside. You’re soaking wet.’

‘Yes, it’s been raining pretty heavily,’ he replied.

She pulled the door open wide to allow him into the entrance of the house. Takashi gave Mika a friendly bow as he removed his jacket and shoes and slid into the house slippers she provided.

‘It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, Mika.’

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘How’ve you been?’

‘Good – very good, in fact,’ Takashi said. He handed Mika a present he’d brought for her and Katsuro. It was a box of cakes filled with sweetened red bean-paste made from azuki beans.

‘Thank you, Takashi, that’s very nice of you,’ said Mika as she took the gift from him. ‘Well, come on inside. Katsuro has been really looking forward to seeing you again.’

Takashi followed Mika into the living room. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, and she was wearing a long apron that covered her cotton shirt and knee-length skirt. Her clothes were simple in their design, but obviously expensive.

Mika called out to Katsuro to come downstairs as Takashi sat down in an extremely comfortable sofa in their small but beautifully furnished living room. There was a delicious smell of homemade Japanese dishes coming from the kitchen. Katsuro came down the stairs and Mika scurried away to finish preparing the meal.

Katsuro was thirty-three years old, but he had the boyish grin of someone in his mid-twenties. He held out his hand to Takashi as he bounded across the living room, and Takashi instantly felt relaxed and at home. Katsuro was wearing a Ralph Lauren blue polo shirt and indigo denim jeans. Mika brought in a couple of Kirin beers and Katsuro poured both of them a glass.

‘It’s good to see you again,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ Takashi replied, taking a sip of his beer. ‘It’s been a long time.’

‘So what have you been up to?’ Katsuro asked Takashi.

‘Well, I’ve been studying a lot,’ he replied.

‘And how’s that been going?’ Katsuro asked.

‘Not too bad.’

‘And how are your mother and father, Takashi?’

‘They’re well,’ Takashi replied. ‘I went to see them last weekend and we visited my grandmother. Do you remember meeting her at my brother’s funeral?’

‘Yes, I’ve met her a few times,’ replied Katsuro. ‘She always seemed nice, but very reserved and quite strict. I would even say I remember her as being a bit intimidating.’

‘Yes that’s my grandmother,’ Takashi said.

‘Does she live close to your parents in Yokosuka?’

‘Yes, it takes about an hour to drive to her house,’ Takashi replied. ‘I have to tell you, I think she was not her usual self last week. We arrived at her house at about four p.m. and we sat in the tatami room as usual. While my mother was making us all tea, my grandmother spent quite a long time relaying her usual gripes. She talked about the young people of today losing touch with the real Japan. How girls’ skirts were too short; their hair was not supposed to be blonde and that too many of them were unnecessarily promiscuous. She also complained about the fact that the youth of Japan were all getting too fat from eating too much Western fast food and that young men were driving way too fast in their modified cars,’ Takashi said, pausing to take a long sip of his beer, after which Katsuro refilled his glass.

‘Go on,’ said Katsuro, amused by this portrayal of Takashi’s grandmother.

‘When my mother brought the tea into the room, my grandmother started asking me questions she’d never asked before,’ said Takashi.

‘Such as?’ asked Katsuro.

‘Well, she asked me about my studies and whether I had a girlfriend or not. She even asked me how many children I’d like, when I plan to get married and whether I plan to live in Tokyo in the future or further afield.’

‘What’s wrong with that?’ asked Katsuro. ‘It sounds like she was being nice.’

‘That’s the strange part about it,’ Takashi replied. ‘My grandmother has never been that friendly.’

‘What did your parents say about this?’ asked Katsuro.

‘They told me not to worry about it.’

‘Maybe your grandmother is just softening in her old age,’ said Katsuro.

‘Yes, you’re probably right,’ Takashi replied.

Katsuro poured him another beer and Takashi started telling him about his hopes to work at one of the major trading companies. Soon after, without him realising it, he started talking about Haruka.

‘I think Haruka’s the one I’d like to marry one day,’ he told his cousin.

‘Is she pretty, Takashi?’ asked Katsuro.

‘Oh, very pretty,’ he replied. ‘But I’m worried I’ll never be able to date her because I’m not sure whether she feels the same way about me. I think she might be seeing an ex-boyfriend again and she’s talking about taking a job in Kyoto.’

Katsuro laughed. ‘What a person says and thinks is not always how they feel, Takashi.’

Mika must have heard them talking about Haruka from the kitchen. She leaned around the kitchen door and called out to Takashi. ‘Be careful, Takashi, a beautiful rose may have many thorns.’

‘Yes, I think one of your thorns scratched me earlier,’ replied her husband. They all laughed.

Takashi really liked Katsuro because he was always positive and a very good listener. He always felt that he was learning something from him, particularly how he should converse with others without being intrusive. Takashi somehow felt that this could be a great asset in the future.

They finished two more glasses of Kirin beer before Mika brought some of the dishes to the table for them to start eating. Mika didn’t eat much during the dinner. She kept going back and forth from the kitchen to the table, always bringing in another array of food. Takashi felt honoured to enjoy such a feast. Before him was a selection of his favourite dishes: Chilled tofu, yakiniku pork marinated in soy sauce, garlic, ginger and sugar, an assortment of vegetables and the obligatory steamed rice and miso soup. Mika was obviously delighted by the smiles on their faces every time another favourite dish arrived.

After dinner, Katsuro and Mika talked about their experiences in Australia.

‘What was the house like over there? Was it really a lot bigger?’ Takashi asked them.

‘Oh, it was huge. It had three levels and the kitchen was four times bigger than the one I cook in here,’ Mika said.

‘How about golf, Katsuro? Did you play a lot of golf?’ asked Takashi.

‘Every weekend – but I’m still not very good. The golf courses were magnificent though – they stretched for miles.’

‘Did you eat a lot of beef and Western food?’ Takashi asked them.

‘Well, Mika made mostly Japanese food at home. They have Japanese grocery stores there. But when we went out to eat, I would always order a steak,’ said Katsuro. He showed Takashi the width of the Australian steaks by indicating with his index finger and his thumb.

They talked a lot more about Australia that evening. Mika told Takashi about the koalas and the kangaroos that she’d seen close up, as well as the English classes that she’d attended once a week. She explained to him how she had hoped to speak more English when she was living there, but she’d mostly spent her free time with other Japanese ladies. Apparently they’d all met for lunch in various Japanese restaurants once a month. Takashi was surprised to hear that there were so many Japanese restaurants in Australia and that you could buy take-away sushi from many vendors scattered around town.

Katsuro spoke about how wide the roads were, even in the centre of the major cities. He also talked about the Australian people with whom he’d worked. He admired the way they could speak so frankly and the generous hospitality he had received from them.

Takashi’s eyes were wide open and he was captivated as he’d never heard of such things. He told them that in the future he, too, would like to go to Australia, Europe or America.

Later that night, Katsuro and Takashi sat down in the living room and started to drink a little sake. At first, Katsuro spoke with even more enthusiasm about Australia and its culture, but as the evening progressed and the sake loosened his lips, Katsuro spoke in more serious tones.

Katsuro explained how Mika had become increasingly withdrawn over the past two years. When they’d married three years ago, she’d always been positive and outgoing, but Takashi’s cousin explained that she was losing her spirit of late and there was only one reason for it.

‘Mika’s thirty-two years old now, and for three years she’s been trying to have a baby, but she hasn’t been able to get pregnant. She won’t say anything, but she’s not as happy as she used to be,’ explained Katsuro.

He went on to tell Takashi that many of the wives of his colleagues that were working for the same trading company in Australia would often meet to keep themselves entertained. Most of the older women over thirty had children and Mika was desperate for a little one of her own.

Being younger than Katsuro and not as worldly, Takashi could only listen and assure him that they would definitely have a child in the future. He truly believed that Mika would be a wonderful mother one day.

Mika came back downstairs and into the room where they were sitting. Both Katsuro and Takashi were quite sloshed from the beer and the sake. She came to tell Takashi that he must stay the night and there was no way he could go home at that hour.

Takashi slept on a futon in their tatami room set out especially for him. His stomach was full and his head was awash with liquor. He soon fell into a strange and vivid dream. It was springtime and he was walking along a street that he did not recognise. There were people having picnics all along the side of the road under the cherry blossom trees. Suddenly, he saw Haruka and he began running towards her, but the faster he tried to run, the further away she appeared. Somehow he tripped and the ground began to shake. The petals from the cherry blossoms fell on him and around him, smothering his entire body. They kept falling and soon he was covered in so many petals, he could no longer see Haruka. He tried to brush off the petals, but it was all in vain. He started sinking and spiralling further into the darkness and then suddenly Takashi woke up with a thud. It was probably about six a.m., judging from the light at the window.

Takashi looked around the room. On one side was a small family Buddhist altar with an incense burner and holder, Buddhist tableware, a candlestick, a bell and flowers for the souls of deceased ancestors. On the facing wall was a print. The print was of a single stem of a cherry blossom branch. He hadn’t noticed this the night before. It must have been because of the beer and the sake. Takashi went back to sleep and slept well before he left to go home in the morning.