Chapter 2 : First few hours in Yokohama
XXXXXXXXXXX
I'm really sorry for the slow update. And I forgive in advance for this chapter. It's short and nothing's really happening. But I've got a valid reason for it. Haha. I'm under really trying circumstances as of late. Right in the thick of action. The 2nd year in my degree. Courseworks, a mini-field trip, more servings of coursework, the end of year exam(next week!) and a goddamned 6-week dissertation fieldtrip at the end of this month. But I will work on a better chapter for chapter 3 though. Haha. Just a bit of advice. Avoid Geology courses in England.
Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter. If not, flame away! =/
XXXXXXXXXXX
"Have you eaten, kid?", the taxi driver puzzlingly began.
"I already had breakfast", I said.
"Too bad. We have the best Okonomiyaki here. And our shumai. Cheap, diabolically delicious and healthy as hell. Whatd'you have for breakfast, kid?"
I internally questioned his choice of words regarding the shumai. How can dumplings be healthy? And how can I trust him? Healthy as hell? That didn't sound healthy at all.
"I had banana pancakes. Topped with melting butter. It's not bad", I replied.
He wasn't convinced, "It is bad. Kids these days. I don't get what's so great about Western food. Us Japanese should be proud of our delicious Japanese food! You should be grateful!"
As if dumplings are Japanese. I didn't correct him. It'll be troublesome. I fell silent, nodding in half-hearted agreement.
Peace at last, I thought as the radio was playing The Cure's 'Just Like Heaven', with my driver singing along. It just didn't seem right.
I sighed. The train ride to Yokohama was exhausting. I had checked my bank account in the morning. Thinking, I've got more than enough money for transport fares, accommodation,
food and clothes. It could last me three months at least, if I wanted to. But I didn't plan to stay that long. I left after having my pancake breakfast and telling my parents, back to Go. I lied of course as I caught the first train to Yokohama.
I relaxed on the train. But I couldn't. Or wasn't allowed to relax. Go enthusiasts easily recognised me. Must've been my bleached hair, I thought. There were thousands of them.
Well, it felt like thousands. I had to sign their books, shirts, coffee cup, anything I could write on. They took pictures with me. Talked about my recent matches, my Hokuto cup matches, there was no let up. The last straw was their request to play them. A 4-on-1 Shidougo. That was it, I thought, as I made a beeline for it. I hid in the lavatory for the rest of the journey.
I quickly chased after a taxi once we arrived at Yokohama. The taxi driver was a bit on the large side, wearing an old Japan football jersey. It was the World Cup 2006 edition. He beamed, where to? Sakuragicho hotel please, I gasped.
I took a deep breath. The next song was playing. It was L'Arc en Ciel's classic 'Niji. Grunting in irritation, the taxi driver switched stations. Kanye West's 'Heartless' was playing instead.
"I see you've got a novel there", he glanced at my Edgar Allan Poe Collections. "What is it?"
I explained. An old American writer. Gothic. Dupin the Detective. Ligeia.
He sighed, displeased. "Again with the Western obsession. What is it with kids these days? Why can't you enjoy Japanese novels? Like MEMOAAZU OFU A Geisha?", American, "Or Kazuo Ishiguro's ZA ANKONSORUDZU?", British.
I nodded half-heartedly.
We arrived at Sakuragicho. I paid the taxi fare, wishing that I wouldn't encounter him ever again. The hotel wasn't bad for a 3-star. It looked new, about 20-storeys high but was designed in a simple yet tasteful manner. I checked in, Room 112. The room itself was quite austere, very practical. I chucked my belongings on the bed. My books, a little bag of boxers and a T-shirt. A toothbrush and my favourite Gilette Fusion. I relieved myself in the bathroom. Took a good look at myself. Purple Radiohead T-shirt, grey Maharishi thin hoodie, jeans and my Circa sneakers. I sprayed Gucci Rush on my neck and washed my face. Good to go, I thought.
I left the hotel with a Nike slingbag, a pen and foolscape paper as contents.
I stopped a taxi. Tsurumi University, I requested. Surprise, surprise. It was the patriotic taxi driver himself. I sighed.
XXXXXX
The taxi ride was extremely tiring. He talked about hair. "Young people these days", he began shaking his head, "I don't get your mops. Whatever happened to the good old days?
When men looked like men and women beautiful. Men had no-nonsense hair. Crew cuts, bald and simple short partings. I don't get you young ones with wild bleached hair."
Might I mention that his hair was an auburn fauxhawk.
We arrived at Tsurumi University's front gate. I paid and thanked him. Then I slammed the door shut. I gave him the middle finger as he drove off, singing some Lady Gaga song.
Calm down, I paced myself as I ambled through the front gates.
I sat down on a marble bench. Its luster vitreous, garnet minerals lodged in between dark amphibole looking formations.
The University was breathtaking. Pine trees, abstractly cropped in a corner behind tulip strips. A Kinamoto Kisasuke statue, with more high grade rocks revolving around it. I went over and studied it. 'Nyobo no shozoku no iro' was carved at the base of the statue. I had no slightest clue what the rock was. I could see serpentine. It was beautiful. Apple green colour with tints of teal. It reminded me of Akari. Her teal earspirals and grey skirt. Mayo and shoyu with unagi.
I chuckled as I whipped out my cheap yellow Samsung and dialled in Akari's number.
It rang about six times.
"Hey Hikaru!", she sang.
"Hey Akari. Whatcha up to?"
"I've got class in 10 minutes. Modernism. Joyce. Remember?"
"Yea, perfectly. So you're in Tsurumi now? Brilliant", I concluded.
She came in a matter of minutes. She was puzzled but smiled nonetheless. What was I doing here? I need a break, I said. But why Yokohama? Why her University?
"I'm curious. Modernism. Joyce. Ulysses. Remember?", I mimicked, trying to impress her.
She giggled as she took my arm, leading the way.
She was slightly awed. I was the last person she'd expect to know about Joyce's Ulysses, she said. Feigning the offended, she giggled even more. I only recently read novels, I told her. Reading was a nice change. Go racks your brain. Overcooks it. Too much and you'll explode. In Go, you navigate your ship against the currents. You're the captain, battling killer waves, driving upstream, waterfalls. Most of the time you won't know what to expect. Reading, on the other hand, is a vacation. You're the passenger of a luxury cruise ship. You sit down, bask in the glorious weather. You go with the flow, trusting the captain's instinct. You're engulfed as the plot thickens but you'll always safely disembark at your destination. It's relaxing, I told her. She giggled at my metaphor.
As we paced to the lecture theatre, I admired Akari. Honey-scented chestnut hair rippling with every step. Bright brown eyes emanating warmth, cutting through the chilly Spring morning breeze. Black knitted coat blanketing her white 'Married to the Mob' T-shirt. Concrete grey skirt with brown boots. Brown and gold Chanel bag. But a different fragrance. It's Armani Diamonds, she smiled. Her lips full and rosy. She hummed Kagrra's 'Satsuki'.
We found ourselves slipped in a crowd of students, one by one entering Saikaku Lecture Theatre 11. Ihara Saikaku - pioneer of modern Japanese fiction, she informed. We found ourselves seated three rows from the front. I studied my surroundings. A large screen was central to the theatre. The theatre itself was quite big but seats were aplenty. By the time the lecturer stepped in it was almost full.
She hummed Kagrra's 'Towa ni'. "I miss Isshi's voice from the album San", she smiled referring to Kagrra's vocalist. I also preferred Kagrra before their Shizuku album.
"But Shu, the latest album, is an ode to their early years. Very recommendable", she said.
I agreed.
Okada Kumiko-sensei, the lecturer, wore a pink sweater and a black skirt. As I pictured, she wore glasses. Her hair was shoulder length and she was about 40. Her voice was firm, clear and authorative, but motherly. She was a clear favourite among the students.
"Morning sensei! Pink again, huh?", one of the guys hollered.
"Sensei! Any Shiroi Koibito cookies for me?", another guy.
Laughter.
"Sit down, shut up and cookies after class", she sharply ordered, smirking.
Cheers and more laughter.
"She's a Hokkaido native. Everytime she returns from Hokkaido, she brings us cookies. Awesome, isn't she? Pink is her 'first-day-of-school' colour. Without fail!", enthused Akari.
"Today, we'll talk about the influence of Modernism in Literature", Okada-sensei began.
The clicking of pens and the creasings of lecture notes. Then silence.
"Modernist literature began in Europe in the 1900s."
Akari smiled eagerly.
XXXXXX
The white petals of Spring windflowers (or 'Anemone Nemorosa' as Akari labelled it), fluttered about, surfing on the soothing noon wind. We celebrated its existence with a choco Shiroi Koibito cookie each. They were very, very good. I should've bought some when I searched for Sai in Hokkaido.
Hey Sheep Man, have some cookies while you're up there, I mused as I looked up, the sky blistering with beauty, art in its purest.
Akari sang Bump of Chicken's 'Karma'. I chorused along. The lyrics etched deep in me. I have never ever encountered lyrics as beautiful as that of 'Karma'.
We are one another s mirror that reflects our karma.
While our tainted hands touch each other,
and feel their silhouette.
Fujiwara Motou-san, kudos to you.
We strolled past the Kinamoto Kisasuke statue, relaxed, enjoying each other's presence.
"Fujisaki!", a debatably familiar female voice called out.
Akari turned and greeted, "Hey Nase-sempai! How was your vacation?"
Nase? I turned. I confirmed. It was indeed Nase Asumi who was with me during my Insei days. Nostalgic notions squeezed my gut. Images of Waya, Isumi, Ochi, Fuku and Nase, five years ago. I stood wordlessly. Nase wore a purple Gap hoodie, bleached jeans and yellow converse sneakers. Her Louis Vuitton bag stood out. Her hair was the same as it was. Straight,
shoulder length and brown. She had minimal make up on, just foundations and a bit of lip gloss. She was beautiful. Though her allure was different to that of Akari. But beautiful nonetheless.
"You two know each other?"
She was genuinely surprised seeing me in their University, "Shindou? What are you doing here? I mean, how have you been? I haven't seen you in years!"
"Yeah, haven't seen you in a while. You two know each other?", I repeated.
Akari smiled, "She is the gifted president of Tsurumi University's GoSoc"
"Would you cut that out, Fujisaki?", cried Nase, embarassed.
The girls giggled as they made little talk. I went skiing. How was it? Hokkaido was great! I relaxed at home. Shopping? Stuff like that.
I recalled my Insei days. Eating Big Macs at McDonald's with Waya, Insei and Nase. Eating sushi, cold soba with beardman. My stomach growled. When's lunch?
XXXXXX
Ne-yo's 'Miss Independent' suddenly played. It was Nase's ringtone. She picked up.
"What is it Oka-sama?", she mocked, then laughed.
"Yes, I'm fine. No, don't worry. Oka-chan, come on. Yea, my class ended just now."
It was indeed her mother. I sat next to Nase on a surprisingly comfortable wooden bench. We were in a little leisure area of the University. Flower beds, rows of flower trees.
Very aesthetic. The sweet smell of blooming bluebells and camellias gave out a lulling sensation. They suck you in. They drug you. And you're reluctant to muscle your way out of its sweet trap. Comfort at its highest order. I gave in.
I found the place very alluring for students. Say, you got an hour break between lectures. You sit down in this Garden of Eden replica. You lose yourself. Your muscles relax, your brain steps down a couple of gears, tension dissipates. And that's your one hour. Gone. If it were me, I'd say, "to hell with class!" I'd lie down for hours and hours. My worries gone with the sweet Spring breeze. It's a drug, I tell you.
"What are you up to Shindou?", she was done. See, what I tell you? It's a drug. You lose track of your surroundings.
"Relaxing is all. I need a break. I'm so sick of Go it's nauseating. It gets to you. You know what I'm saying?"
"Yeah, totally. I got so sick of Go. I quit Insei two years ago. And I didn't touch or think about Go for almost a year. Until now."
"Did you always wanted to go to University?", I asked.
"Yeah, I always did. But it's funny", she smirked.
"What is?"
"I can't escape from Go. No matter how much you're hating Go, it'll warm itself to you. It's like a persistent ex-lover. Sooner or later, you'll live and breathe Go, like you used to.
You know what I'm saying?"
No I don't. "Yeah, sorta"
"My course is Geography with Geology as a minor subject", she stated, making it sound obvious.
"What about Geography and Geology?", it wasn't obvious to me.
"After graduating I want to work in the military. In the department of Military Strategy.
I'm studying mapping. Mapping out the topography, the rock types, water tables, the acidity, everything. It's totally relevant. And where Go comes in, it's pure tactics and strategy.
Making use of the topographical advantages from my maps. Scouting out the best possible territory and using it for the army's advantage. Vantage points, natural barriers, water supply. It's totally relevant. Geography, Geology and Go. The strings are tangled up. And my passion is rekindled. The colours are rekindled. You know what I'm saying?"
Rekindled colours? But that's besides the point. Nase's talk was engrossing. It intrigued me. Using your talent in Go, applying it with geographical knowledge for the tactical unit. It was unthinkable. Well, to me it is.
Nase was smiling. Her eyes lit up. I acknowledged her goals. Remarkable, I told her. She smiled even more. Then her phone rang. It was Micbandits' 'Here Comes the Rapper'. E-mail,
she told me as she texted.
Rekindled colours? What's with this recurring theme? Is it significant? I thought about Akari. Her wispy voice, almost whispering over the phone. Rekindling the colours of Go.
I thought about my dream. Akari. Tengen. Rekindling the colours of Go. Was it a Tsurumi GoSoc thing?
Akari was in her Discourse Analysis seminar. I didn't go because of its registered attendance. Too bad, I told her. So I hung out with Nase instead, since her class ended and we wanted to lunch together. The three of us. I asked Nase what her class was. Chemistry of the Earth, she said. Interesting.
Minutes pass by as we talk about the importance of isotopes and pH values in water tables. I had no input in the discussion due to my zero geological knowledge.
"Sorry I'm late", Akari apologised. She took a seat between us. My stomach growled ferociously. Laughter. Perfect timing, I said.
"Let's have pizza", announced Nase.
My stomach roared in agreement.
XXXXXX
Haha. Review please. Thank you!