J-Boys Read online

  Kazuo laughed uneasily though he didn’t know exactly what the man meant. The man, who had neatly combed hair, removed his glasses and lightly rubbed his eyes with his fingertips.

  Kazuo watched as Father and Mother nodded deeply at the man’s words.

  The train on the way home was nearly empty. In their car, which had no one in it except for the four of them, Kazuo sat on the long bench under the window with his family and gazed out at the tiny lights moving past.

  “I wonder what will become of that couple,” Mother said with a sigh.

  “Who knows?” Father answered. “They’ll probably go through old age just the way they are.”

  “Probably,” she said, sighing again. Then she added her usual pet phrase: “I am sick and tired of war.”

  “Oi, Yasuo,” Kazuo said to his brother, who was being unusually quiet as he watched the nighttime scenery. “Did you know all the time why that lady was holding the doll?”

  “Of course I did,” Yasuo answered, tilting his head slightly toward Kazuo.

  “Then why did you ask its name?” Father wanted to know.

  Yasuo shrugged. “Because the lady looked so lonely. And you know me,” he added with a sly grin. “I like to talk!”

  “That’s for sure!” exclaimed Kazuo, and everyone laughed. Then once again Kazuo turned to the bright city lights that were streaming by. Maybe Yasuo wasn’t as much of a child as he’d thought, Kazuo reflected.

  Kazuo silently wished his family, and that white-haired couple, a happy New Year. Another year had come upon them, and things were already changing, right before his eyes.

  Keiko Sasaki

  Kazuo loved American cartoons and dramas. That was because they showed a lot of different people living wealthy lifestyles. But there was one thing that bothered him about these shows: they had a lot of kissing in them.

  In Leave It to Beaver, for example, the father and mother kissed when the father went to work. They kissed again when he came home. In Popeye, Bluto tried to get the unwilling Olive to kiss him, and when Popeye ate some spinach and defeated Bluto, Popeye and Olive puckered up their lips like fish and glued them together, making a big, wet sucking sound. No matter what show it was, if it was from America and had a man and a woman in it, it almost always ended with the man passionately kissing the woman.

  It wasn’t that Japanese TV shows didn’t have kissing. They did, but only in dramas for adults, like the shows Kazuo saw his mother watching when he happened to be awake after nine o’clock. And whenever a kissing scene came on, Mother quickly said, “It’s late! Time for children to be in bed!” and chased him off to his room. Kazuo understood, of course, that kissing was something grown-ups who liked each other tended to do. But he wasn’t convinced that he would ever kiss anybody when he grew up. Kissing meant that some other person’s spit would end up in his mouth. He also thought that kissing was something you should do hidden away from other people, not right in front of them.

  Kazuo’s mother and father had never kissed in front of Kazuo or Yasuo. But Kazuo had seen them kiss once. That was when he was in second grade and woke up in the middle of the night.

  At that time, all four members of the family were still sleeping together in the six-mat living room. When Kazuo happened to wake up in the dark one night, he noticed that his father and mother were gone and that one of the sets of bedding was missing. Slipping out of his blankets, he slid open the papered door to the four-and-a-half-mat room and peered in. And there he saw the missing set of bedding, and his father and mother embracing and kissing inside it. Kazuo, who had never seen his parents kiss, was startled and hurried back to his own bedding. He pulled his blanket over his head, and held very still until he finally fell back asleep.

  And now, whenever he was watching TV and saw a kissing scene, he would get a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know whether the same thing happened to Yasuo, and he had never asked Nobuo, Nishino-kun, or Minoru whether it happened to them.

  At school, Kazuo also did his best not to show any interest in the girls in his class. This was not difficult for Kazuo, because hanging out with his friends was much more fun than chatting with the girls, who talked nonstop. Just one girl in his class, Keiko Sasaki, seemed to weigh on his mind. It wasn’t that Kazuo didn’t like Keiko Sasaki. He just didn’t like the particular way other people looked at him when he was with her.

  Keiko Sasaki’s father was an employee at Nihon Optics, just like Kazuo’s father, and her family lived in the same company housing compound as Kazuo’s family. Keiko’s family was made up of her father, her mother, herself, and a younger sister who would turn three this year. If you left out the fact that both children in her family were girls, the family make-up was exactly the same as Kazuo’s. But Kazuo often got the feeling that Keiko’s family was the exact opposite of his.

  Keiko’s father was a quiet, small man who neither drank alcohol nor smoked. Kazuo’s father was tall and liked beer. Father did not speak ill of Mr. Sasaki; he said he was “not a bad man, just a little strange.” Keiko’s mother was short like her husband, and never raised her voice to scold Keiko or her little sister, Yasuko. According to Mother, that was because Keiko and her sister were good children who listened carefully to what their parents said, unlike a certain pair of brothers who never did what they were told.

  Finally, Keiko was an excellent student—so good that she was probably number one or two in Kazuo’s class. She was good at all subjects, unlike Kazuo who had definite strong and weak areas. And Keiko was one of the prettier girls. Her skin was creamy and her eyes were large. And she was nice to everybody in the class, so there was no one, boy or girl, who said anything bad about her.

  Kazuo had been buddies with Keiko until shortly after they started grade school. They had played together almost every day. And early on in grade school, they had walked to and from school together. But in their class was a group of students who made fun of their friendship and started calling them “husband and wife.” Kazuo did not like this, and began to steer clear of Keiko. And Keiko, perhaps because she knew Kazuo was being teased, began to act distant toward him as well.

  That was why Kazuo felt uncomfortable about Keiko. And when, at the beginning of November, Mr. Honda had made them part of the same class group—with Keiko the leader and Kazuo the assistant leader—Kazuo had secretly worried about being called “husband and wife” again. But Keiko, perhaps because she remembered the events of first grade, spoke no more than was necessary to Kazuo. In fact, she acted rather indifferent toward him, just as he did to her, so that they never heard any teasing from their classmates.

  And Kazuo had been relieved by that.

  Winter vacation ended, and the final term of the school year began. Kazuo did not particularly like this part of the school year. Perhaps it was because the weather was at its coldest in January. The north wind kicked up and barreled through town, churning up dust and making the hands of Kazuo and his playmates as dry as sandpaper. Still, Kazuo kept rounding up Minoru and Nishino-kun, and doing his Bob Hayes training with Nobuo at the empty lot, and playing sumo, or leapfrog, or kick-the-stone, or baseball. Soon his body would warm up, and he would forget about the cold.

  Weather: The weather in Tokyo is very similar to that of Washington, D.C. on the east coast of the United States: cold in the winter, hot and humid in the summer, and very pleasant in the spring and fall. Lacking central heating and air conditioning, however, most Japanese homes like Kazuo’s were not very comfortable when the weather outside was extreme.

  But that was not how it was in the classroom, where you couldn’t run around. Mr. Honda lit the coal stove ten minutes before first period began, but not even he could always get it to light quickly. Sometimes, the stove would fill with smoke, and all the smoke that did not fit into the stovepipe would puff out into the classroom.

  “Everyone, I know you’re cold, but please open the windows for a short time,” Mr. Honda would tell them, an apologetic expression on
his face.

  Even colder air would pour in and make the children shiver all the more. On those days, the classroom might not warm up until the morning sunlight hit the windows directly, sometime after eleven a.m.

  About two weeks into this frigid term, Kazuo and the other students in his class were back in their small groups. They were organizing the results of some science experiments, writing their findings on large pieces of paper.

  The theme chosen by Kazuo’s group was, “Do people have dark shadows and light shadows?” They had chosen this based on a question posed by Nishino-kun, who had said, “What do they mean when they talk about people with light shadows? Is there really such a thing?” Students in the other groups had chosen questions more appropriate to science class, such as why shadows get longer in the winter or why certain trees’ leaves change color. But for some reason, Kazuo’s group had gone along with one of the strange thoughts whirling around inside Nishino-kun’s head.

  When Mr. Honda first heard their question, he looked a little surprised.

  “Well, the point of science is to raise questions about all sorts of things and go after the answers,” he said, then smiled.

  For about a week, the members of Kazuo’s group stared at the shadows of the classmates, upperclassmen, and underclassmen playing in the schoolyard during lunch recess and after school. What they learned was that there was no difference in how dark people’s shadows were, other than the differences caused by changes in the weather. In other words, everybody’s shadow was dark on sunny days and light on partly cloudy days, and almost invisible on completely overcast days. A strong light was needed in order to make dark shadows, so Kazuo’s group concluded that an expression like “people with light shadows” described people who just didn’t make much of an impression.

  At first, Kazuo thought this was an odd topic to research and only did it to go along with Nishino-kun, but he was eventually impressed at how making some observations had led them to an interesting discovery.

  Keiko seemed impressed, too. “You think up a lot of interesting things, don’t you, Nishino-kun?”

  She opened her round, black eyes wide at Nishino-kun, who was deftly drawing a person and his shadow on their group’s piece of paper.

  “Really, you think so?” Nishino-kun blushed a little.

  Kazuo suddenly wondered if his friend had a crush on Keiko. He found himself envying the red-faced Nishino-kun a little because of the way his feelings showed. If it were Kazuo, and Keiko had spoken to him that way, Kazuo would probably have acted all gruff and just let her comment go by. Maybe that meant that he himself had a crush on Keiko.

  He stole a glance at the side of her face, where some hair had escaped her barrette. She was still talking to Nishino-kun and didn’t notice Kazuo studying her. He caught himself and quickly looked away.

  Every day, the weather grew colder. The chill of the early morning was particularly harsh, and there were times when the pipes would freeze and water wouldn’t come out of the kitchen faucet. Mother would put water in the kettle at night before sleeping, and in the morning, she’d boil it and pour it over the frozen faucet.

  When morning came, Kazuo and Yasuo stayed curled up in their blankets like hibernating bears. But soon, their mother would come in and demand, “How long are you planning to stay in there?” Then she would strip off their blankets, exposing their bodies to the winter cold in one fell swoop.

  Frost began to form on the dirt road that ran in front of company housing, and when they walked to school, it would crunch beneath their feet, sounding like wafers being chewed. Maybe because the temperature dropped so quickly, a number of students at school got sick. One day, five in Kazuo’s class stayed home due to illness.

  “Everyone, this is your final term in fourth grade. Please take care and don’t get sick,” Mr. Honda said after lighting the coal stove. “To avoid catching a cold, you should wash your hands regularly. Gargling also helps to rid your body of germs from the air that are trying to get into your system.” The teacher drew a picture of a human body on the chalkboard and drew a circle around the nose and throat.

  Tooth-brushing exercises at a Shinagawa Ward elementary school.

  “The next most important thing is to go to bed early and focus on maintaining a good diet. And after you bathe at night, be sure to bundle up in bed as soon as possible. I know that a number of you go to public baths, as I do. I encourage you to go right home without stopping anywhere along the way.”

  Mr. Honda wrote the following on the chalkboard:

  Wash hands

  Gargle

  Early to bed and early to rise

  Eat three meals a day

  Stay warm after bathing

  Wow, Mr. Honda goes to a public bath, too, Kazuo thought. For some reason, that made him feel terrific. Maybe the bath where Mr. Honda went also had a big mural of Mount Fuji. Kazuo was much more interested in hearing about Mr. Honda’s bathhouse than in learning about colds. But Mr. Honda said nothing further on the subject and instead started their Japanese lesson.

  That afternoon, the north wind blew harshly through the streets, whistling like an out-of-tune flute. After he said good-bye to his friends at the empty lot, Kazuo hurried home with Yasuo. The dark house was as chilly as the outdoors. The boys turned on the light in the living room and then hit the switch on the kotatsu so they could stick their frozen legs and arms underneath and warm up. Soon, Kazuo went to the kitchen and put rice and water in the electric rice cooker and pushed the switch.

  In the past, Mother had cooked the morning and evening rice in a special pot that sat on a gas burner, but after Father got his company bonus, they’d purchased an automatic rice cooker. Now, Kazuo and Yasuo were trading off days, preparing the rice for dinner.

  When boiling it the old way, with the pot cooking on gas, it was difficult to get the strength of the flame just right. Mother would always recite, “First it flickers, then it pops. Keep the lid on, or it flops!” But with the electric rice cooker, all they had to do was wash the rice, put it in, and add water. So both Kazuo and Yasuo could do it easily.

  After Kazuo had finished preparing the rice, the man from Imamura Tofu came into the neighborhood. Kazuo went out to buy some, and by the time he got back, Yasuo was watching an American cartoon that starred two magpies, Heckle and Jeckle, while copying his Japanese characters for school.

  Kazuo sat next to him, pulled his math books from his backpack, and began to review his lessons.

  Kazuo and Yasuo did their homework, laughing out loud at the antics of the two magpies, who were naughty and arrogant and constantly committing funny blunders. Mother did not come back until after five thirty.

  “Did you get your homework done?” That was her first question for Kazuo and Yasuo, who by now were completely tucked into the kotatsu and intently watching Good Golly Gourd Island, the puppet drama that came on at five forty-five..

  “Yep!” The two of them proudly held up their notebooks, not mentioning that they’d done their homework in front of the TV.

  If she had been there earlier, she would have nagged them: “Study in front of the TV and you won’t remember a single, solitary thing.”

  “Well, all right then,” she said today, and then went into the kitchen and began to prepare dinner.

  Father had said he would be late again tonight due to overtime. When he was late, dinner was always very plain. But Kazuo and Yasuo knew better than to say anything about it, because their mother was sure to start in about “during the war.” Also, if she got in a bad mood, their TV-watching time after dinner could be affected. So the boys ate the dried fish and stewed vegetables without a word, then turned on the TV.

  Their favorite American comedy, The Three Stooges, was already underway. On the screen, the short one, Moe, was talking boastfully in a loud voice to block-headed Curly and forgetful Larry. Moe strutted back and forth, too caught up in what he was saying to notice Curly eating a banana, then throwing the peel on the floor.
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br />   The Three Stooges: An American comedy act of the early to mid-20th century featuring the slapstick and antics of three dimwits: Moe, Larry, and Curly. Their short films were broadcast in Japan from 1963 to 1967.

  As anyone would expect, Moe suddenly slipped on the banana peel and fell flat on his back. He flailed around with exaggerated movements that made the guests in the studio audience guffaw. Kazuo and Yasuo also laughed loudly.

  But that was as far as their fun went.

  “Okay, boys, I want you to go to the bath now,” Mother said. She was using that tone of voice that meant she would not tolerate any argument.

  Still Yasuo stuck out his lower lip. “How come? We’re watching The Three Stooges.”

  “I don’t care whether you’re watching The Three Stooges or The Two Stooges, you are going to the bathhouse.” With that, she reached over and switched off the TV.

  “But Fujita Yu is closed today,” Kazuo said, remembering that today was the second Thursday of the month, when the bath was always closed.

  “Of course Fujita Yu is closed today.” She swatted Kazuo’s hand away as he reached toward the TV. “So today you will go to Hikari Yu. It’s a little bit farther, but if you go right now, you should be back around eight. Okay?” She held out their basins.

  Kazuo sighed. There was no choice but to listen obediently to her and go to the bath. Still, he didn’t like bathing at Hikari Yu. The tubs were only half as big as the tubs at Fujita Yu, and the mural of Mount Fuji was so puny that it seemed pitiful.

  “There’s a cold going around right now,” Mother went on, tying mufflers around their necks. “So before you get out of the tub, you absolutely must get in up to your shoulders and count to one hundred. And once you are out, dry your bodies and your hair well, and come straight home without dawdling. And Yasuo, Hikari Yu is smaller than Fujita Yu, so no playing Gourd Island in the big tub.” She had spotted the model of Gourd Island that Yasuo had hidden between the towels in his basin, and removed it.