COURTSHIP
A Motor City Baby Fanfic
by Peregrine Vision

2 - In Which Mitsui Attends An Interview

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon. The sun was shining over the seaside district of Shohoku at the height of summer. Birds called, children played, slender-limbed specimens of Japanese youth frolicked along the various beaches and in the parks. All of which were ignored by the intent figure speeding by on his motorcycle, rather a splendid specimen of Japanese youth himself. But Mitsui Hisashi, if he thought of himself at all at that moment, thought of himself as being pushed into premature middle age. It was the day of his meeting with the matchmaker and his prospective in-laws, and he was in no mood to appreciate anything.

"That isn't fair," muttered Mitsui to himself. His voice sounded funny in his helmet. "Meeting them on their turf for the eliminations--not fair. Not for the first time."

Then again, it might be something to do with the girl. It wouldn't be fair to make her come to the Mitsui house either; she'd probably be nervous as hell. For the first time, Mitsui wondered what Tsukiko thought about the whole arrangement. His brows drew together. "If she'd let herself be pushed into it, she's got it coming," he muttered, sending his voice bouncing around his helmet again.

Neutral ground. That's where they should all have met for the preliminaries--on neutral ground. Maybe a nice restaurant. Instead here he was at 4:30 pm on a Saturday afternoon (his favorite time for practice, too) going to the house of a girl he'd never met, to set himself up like some sort of prime side of beef at the market.

* * *

The Yamanazuki house was...

"Huge," he gulped, removing his helmet to stare at the mansion that rose from behind the wrought-iron gate. He'd expected something almost feudal, but this was a modern Western house, such as the upperclass Tokyo citizens liked. There was even an intercom system at the gate, which asked him politely to identify himself when he came close to it.

"Hisashi Mitsui," he replied, trying not to sound nervous. A security guard opened the gate, eyeing his Kawasaki somewhat unfavorably. Mitsui gave him the evil eye back and carefully locked his bike outside, by the gate. It was a ground rule he'd learned from Tetsuo: Always make sure you can make a quick getaway.

This earned him another eyeball demerit, but Mitsui figured he wasn't taking points from the underlings, so he lifted his chin and strode through the gate.

The double oak doors of the house were open, and a girl was standing there to welcome him in.

She was very pretty. In an extremely...classical way. Her hair was black and straight, and fell in a shining stream over her shoulders all the way to her waist. She was dressed in an old-fashioned kimono with gold thread, and sleeves and obi ends that were slightly longer than kimono usually were these days. She had a small, oval face with pink lips and deep doe eyes that looked permanently fixed on the floor.

Mitsui remembered a book called The Tale of Genji which he'd had to take up in school as the most famous Japanese novel in history, and indeed the first novel ever written in the world. He hadn't found it too interesting. Apparently there had been a prince called Genji who had fallen in love with a lot of women, mostly at the same time. They had almost always been of "delicate, flawless beauty", and were all hopelessly permissive. The only woman Mitsui knew well was Ayako, and if anyone tried that with her, he'd soon be astonished at how much pain the business end of a paper fan could inflict.

Tsukiko looked just like Mitsui had imagined the Wisteria Blossoms Princess, the mother of Murasaki, to look like: tiny, pale, and soft, like a sweet mochi. Something you could just pick up and eat in a few bites, then dust off your fingers. Actually, that was more or less what had happened to her, figuratively.

My mother thought this girl would suit me? he thought, horrified. What world has she been living in these days?

The girl bowed deeply. "Welcome to our house. I pray you will be satisfied with me."

Mitsui felt a little ill. This didn't sound like a good start.

It wasn't.

When the interview was over it was getting dark outside. Mitsui was more than happy to leave; he felt like he couldn't breathe.

The matchmaker hailed from the old Heian era of fortune-telling love arrangers. She analyzed the couple's birthdates individually and together. Mitsui was a Horse and Tsukiko a Rabbit. He was Fire, she was Air, their auspicious days were this and this, they would do well with a family and also with business (both fathers perked up noticeably at this), but not so well romantically so it would be best if the courtship were brief. At this Mitsui gave her another horrified look, and even Tsukiko's eyes widened.

The Yamanazakis were like the mirror of his own family; it was the mother that dominated, asked all the intimidating questions. She was a formidable-looking, large woman in a pink woolen sweater set (in summer!) and enough pearls to outfit an oyster farm. It looked as though she'd been as pretty as Tsukiko once, although built larger, but had grown so wide all her features were rather stretched. Her deceptively sleepy-looking eyes missed nothing: not the scar on Mitsui's chin, nor his well-cut but wind-rumpled jersey and slacks, nor the smudge of grease on one of his boots.

She was also a persistent interrogator. Who were his friends at school, what did he like to do, she heard he had a bike, was that quite safe, wasn't aware he made that high an income, though of course it was nice that he was living independently, blah blah blah...

And then a rehash of what his father had said about basketball. A nice hobby, it was nice that he was keeping himself fit, but it seemed a waste, he was such a bright young boy and would probably have a wonderful head for business if he wished, it was nice to have a healthy diversion but as he got older it wouldn't be so reliable a thing to fall back on, especially since he'd already been injured once, although that seemed to have healed quite nicely, one never knew, did they?

"Nice". She used the word "nice" a lot. Also "interesting". And "is that so?" until Mitsui didn't care if he got sent out for a disqualifying foul, he just wanted to grab her by her double-stringed pearls and do something violent. He was intensely grateful for the end of the meeting, and only his pride kept him from having to drag himself over the floor.

Tsukiko bowed Mitsui out again. "I hope it will please you to return."

Mitsui desperately wanted to ask her if she spoke that way to her friends or, indeed, if she was allowed to have friends at all. The whole time they had held the meeting she had just sat in a chintz armchair removed from the center of the room, hands folded in her lap, ankles neatly crossed, long-lashed eyes properly downcast. Only when that old goat of a matchmaker had mentioned a speedy courtship had Tsukiko made a tiny start, her eyes going round and frightened. That had told Mitsui what she thought of the arrangement.

So why the hell don't you SAY something? he'd wanted to yell. Now, looking at the little porcelain doll bowing him out like a nodding Chinese mandarin, Mitsui wanted to shake her by her pretty shoulders until her perfect white teeth rattled in her well-proportioned head. But he couldn't help feeling sorry for her at the same time. At least he knew how to shout, and work, and take things for himself.

He bowed back a little awkwardly. "Thanks. See you."

Her eyes widened again, and too late Mitsui realized he'd said "Mata ne", or in other words, "See you again". With everything that implied.

He didn't see his parents into their car. The pleased look that had appeared on his father's face was more than he could stand. He strode down to the gate, gave the guard another evil look just to make himself feel better, and left quickly and in a very disturbed state.

* * *

Of course, when in doubt, practice your basketball. That was another of Mitsui's favorite ground rules. He went to the park where he'd told Hotta and the gang about his dilemma; it was a favorite of Shohoku High students, and there was a good-sized court there. He changed his shoes, spent an hour and a half working on his footwork, and another half hour practicing dunks and throws four feet and less away from the basket. Then he stood halfway across the court and just did throws. It was quite dark, and Mitsui was on his twelfth consecutive throw, when he heard footsteps behind him.

"OI, MICCHI!!!"

The voice was so like the redhead's that Mitsui spun around, his mouth already framing an ear-scorching tirade on the evils of leaving the sickbed with a protracted injury. But it wasn't Sakuragi. It was Miyagi, laughing fit to burst, leaning on the shoulder of a grinning Ayako. Kogure and Akagi were walking behind them, Kogure smiling broadly, the gorilla rolling his eyes.

"Eh." Mitsui sighed and sat on his basketball. "I was just going to scold that idiot redhead for leaving the hospital so soon."

"You're one to talk, eh, Micchi?" chuckled Miyagi.

"Stop calling me that!" But he didn't even get off the ball to say it.

Miyagi shrugged. "Can't help it. As annoying as he is, I kinda miss that big dumb Hanamichi." He narrowed his eyes at Mitsui. "Hey, how come you're playing so dressed up?"

"Blgh," said Mitsui, rolling backward off his basketball onto the concrete. "I don't want to talk about it." Suddenly the day caught up to him, and he felt like an old man.

"Hey, Mitsui," Kogure put in, coming forward. "Feel like a game? C'mon. You and Miyagi against Akagi and me."

Mitsui made an indifferent grunting sound and tossed the ball to Kogure. "You guys go ahead. I'm done for the day."

"You've been practicing here the whole day?" said Ayako, surprised.

"No, just a couple of hours." Too late he saw his mistake. Damn damn damn! Should've just said yes. My head's not on straight today.

Akagi frowned. "A couple of hours and you're tired already?"

Mitsui was sick and tired of being criticized. "Why don't YOU go a few rounds with a prospective mother-in-law, Akagi, and see how bright-eyed and bushy tailed you are afterwards?"

And that's when everyone said "A WHAT?!" and Mitsui realized that now they'd never leave him alone.

-end 2-