I had never been one to run away from problems. Before the turning point of my childhood, I always confronted the issues, sometimes I even pursued them. But after that one moment, my life was completely distorted. I didn't know where to turn. Was there a place to turn? Well yes, I guess there was, but I had to save him the trouble. Ichiro was the only thing I had after that incident, I wasn't about to put him in danger though. That is why I had to leave; the problem that was originally my own became much more than that. It affected essentially my life as I would know it from then on.
Though I was born in South Korea to two South Korean parents, we later moved to Osaka, Japan due to my father's work. He was a well-known scientist in the research field, mainly studying biological and environmental chemistry. He was a man that deserved respect, was never harsh or cruel, even through my biggest mistakes. He was serious, and then he wasn't. But no matter what, he was my Apa, and I hadn't realized how much I honestly loved him until he was gone.
My mother on the other hand, was the pure opposite of him in most ways. I never understood how they came to be married. There were times when I would leave my bed later in the night to use the bathroom or get some water, but my ultimate goal was to spy on my parents. My father would sit in front of the fire with the paper or some medical journal of some sort, his glasses set on his nose so carefully, while my mother would be rearranging things in an effort to somehow contain herself in the small home we lived in. She was never one to confine herself in such small spaces as this, but I guess that showed how much she loved my dad as well. Her personality didn't fit with her lifestyle, but she was willing to give it up anyway. These secret stolen moments were the only times I ever saw her smile, and every time I did witness the brief moments of happiness between my parents, my breath caught. Her smile lit up her face to the point where it would break someone's heart if that light were taken away. She was and still is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, but it wasn't the fake beauty you see in the stick-like super models that cover their faces with masks of make-up. It was completely natural, which is why the way she treated me was so unexpected to anyone that wasn't me. I was used to her harsh punishments, which didn't seem too harsh to anyone but myself. The only thing I ever strived for was her acceptance, which proved to be the only goal in my life that I couldn't reach to this day. I was never smart enough, beautiful enough, or worthy of respect for that matter.
My mother usually refuses to speak Japanese unless it is absolutely necessary. Her roots always lay in Korea, which is why I never understood why she didn't go home after Apa died. Maybe she couldn't stand the thought of returning to their real home, or the idea of starting over, something she never did. She stayed in that tiny house even after I left.
Even though I lived in that same house, I grew up outside of it. I met my childhood friend, Ogawa Ichiro, when I first arrived to Osaka. He lived only a street away, something we discovered as we were walking home from school, me about 7 feet behind him as I watched him turn down that first street before I continued onto my own. The next day he had asked me why I had followed him home, a characteristic I had come to love: his bluntness. I simply retorted that I was only trying to reach my street, and after that we walked home together, gradually becoming friends. I basically lived at his house during the day, sometimes at night when Apa was away and my mother couldn't stand the sight of me. When he asked questions, I answered. I began to realize that he didn't always ask such straight-forward questions to the other kids, and came to the conclusion that it was because I never offered up my thoughts. If someone needed to know, they would ask. And he asked. A lot.
I knew I would miss him most when I left, but I also knew that I would miss him more if he died because of me. Who knew what would happen if I stayed in contact with him? I certainly did. He would end up like my father, only this time the loss would be even greater, as Ichiro was all I had left. My life without him – I can't even picture it, which is why it's only fitting that I begin telling this story from when I left Osaka to start my tour around Japan. My first destination: Tokyo, Beika district.