Chapter Twenty Two: I’m More Complex Than You Think.

Despite what the Old Goat had said before, they walked in silence.

Crunch, Crunch.

Each step on the loose pebbles that made up the long path to the shrine elicited a loud grinding noise that he could hear inside his head, like biting down on a crispy potato chip.

Crunch, Crunch.

Unlike when he had visited the shrine with Danny, Hibiki walked very slowly and deliberately, keeping their pace relaxed and deliberate.

Crunch, Crunch.

They reached the first inner gate, an even larger gate than the outer one, and then made a turn toward the shrine at the center.

Crunch, Crunch.

There were more people today as it was a weekend. Still, almost no one was talking. He could hear some foreign tourists far ahead of them speaking, and it was quiet enough for him to recognize that it wasn’t English that they were speaking. Trash just blocked out the voices.

Crunch, Crunch.

He could tell the difference in their gait by the sounds now. His steps were plodding and monotonous. They were also louder as he kicked up more gravel with each step.

Crunch, Crunch.

Hibiki’s steps were noticeably quieter. They were also slightly uneven, and he could tell by the sound alone that the man had a limp. Listening closely, he could now hear the sound of the cane as it hit the ground firmly with each of the old-man’s left foot steps.

Crunch, Tom-Crunch.

Trash wondered if the reason for the gravel on this road was to-

“Bah! Buddhist trickery. Mind games be damned!”

Trash turned to look at Hibiki, whose face was looking rather flushed.

They were now just a few steps from the inner gate, and Trash slowly accompanied the Old Goat to sit at a bench next to the purification fountain.

“They do that on purpose, you know. Cover the path with loose gravel. The sounds of your footsteps are supposed to help you meditate and clear your mind of thoughts of the outside world. Rubbish. I’d believe that if those monks weren’t driving back and forth in chauffeured cars through the side entrance. If anyone needs a clean mind…”

Again, the old man had switched to English for his rant.

“For me… It worked. I lost myself. All I could think about was that sound. I forgot about… my troubles outside,” Trash admitted.

“Oh! I see. It must work better on weaker minds.”

Trash was taken off guard by the surprising insult. Then, noting the impish grin on the man, he recognized the sarcastic humor.

“I bet you don’t have any place in Akihabara like this, do you?”

“Of course we do. We have Kanda Myojin. It’s maybe not as famous as Meiji Shrine, but it’s one of Tokyo’s top three!” Trash said defensively.

Then he added, “It has a long walk, and up a hill too. I don’t think even an old goat would be able to make it up to the gate.”

His attempt to banter back was rather weak, but the older man smiled as he smacked his cane lightly against Trash’s leg.

After a moment’s thought, Trash added.

“We also have a secret shrine like this one. I go there to think. The entrance is long and hidden, like a tunnel. It blocks the noise and the outside world.”

“Ah, is it an Inari Shrine?”

Trash looked at Hibiki blankly.

“With foxes. Are there stone foxes there?”

After thinking about it for a moment, Trash recalled the two statues of foxes at the base of the small shrine. He nodded his head slowly. How did the Old Goat know about that?

“It’s a fox shrine. You should bring it something to eat and some nice alcohol next time you go.”

“You know about it?”

“Well, Of course, I venture over there from time to time. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find replacement parts for old phonographs these days? It’s all MD3s now. They sound like shit too.”

Trash resisted the urge to correct the man, then realized that the whole shrine question had been a test. He already knew about the secret shrine. He wanted to know how much he knew. Trash was growing to like this weird old man, but he could tell that he shouldn’t trust him either.

“Let me know when you need help with Hi-Fi equipment. I know many good places.”

“Oh really? That’s good to know. I will take you up on that someday.”

They both washed their hands in the fountain, and Hibiki even took a sip of water from the wooden ladle to rinse out his mouth. Then they entered the Shrine.

“Weddings, every Sunday. Half of them with cocky foreign bankers and their new Japanese wives. Well, maybe less these days since Lehman shock. Thank God.”

They had stopped as the central courtyard was now blocked by a traditional wedding procession. Contrary to Hibiki’s statement, this wedding at least, was between two local families, as was evident by the long line of relatives from both sides of the family in the procession.

They watched in silence as the bride and groom, both in traditional wedding kimonos, along with an army of officiants, relatives, and others, paraded through the courtyard before moving to the back of the shrine.

Trash wondered how much it must cost to hold a ceremony in a place like this.

“You wouldn’t believe how much it costs to get married here. You’d think they could afford to pave that road…”

Trash realized that he must be telegraphing his thoughts on his face. Everyone around him always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.

After that, they left through the side entrance. This went past a modern wedding hall and down a road that was, in fact, nicely paved. He was starting to see how the old man was crafting every moment ahead, setting things up to give him things to say, and questions to ask. He was both impressed and intimidated by someone who manipulated the world around him as easily as most people breathe.

“Luckily, it’s paved this way.”

Trash wanted to assert that he knew what was going on.

“Only as far as the terrace. Let’s stop there and get something to eat.”

Without turning to get a response, Hibiki continued his relaxed pace until they reached the giant casks of donated rice wine along the path to the exit.

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Trash remembered seeing them when he was here as a child, each large enough to conceal a child his size. That specific imagery had always haunted him as a child and, along with this father’s trouble with drinking, may have contributed to his lack of interest in drinking.

There was a restaurant at the terrace near the large gate, and they sat at a quiet table outside in a courtyard area.

Hibiki had ordered a bizarre combination of jellied rice flour confections in roasted soy powder and covered in black-sugar syrup, along with a lemon soda. The clash of the traditional Japanese confection and the sugary Western soda was as jarring as it was oddly appropriate for the strange record shop owner.

Trash, who was still feeling the weight of the huge breakfast, just asked for an iced coffee despite Hibiki’s offer to pick up the tab.

“Trash, I thought it was only fair, since I did all that digging into you, and your family, that I share with you a bit about myself as well. That is if you are interested in hearing about it.”

Trash nodded, but also wondered why they were still speaking in English. Especially in a place like this. The old man was weird, though he seemed to have a purpose for every small thing.

“How old are you?”

That question caught Trash off guard. After a moment of hesitation, he replied, “Twenty.”

“Have you had your birthday this year?”

Trash shook his head. His birthday was in August.

“So you were born in the first year of Heisei?”

Indeed, Trash was born in the first year of the reign of the current Emperor. He hadn’t ever given it much thought but was surprised that the old man had calculated the date so quickly.

“How old do you suppose I am?”

Trash took a moment to think. Was this another test? Did he have any clues or ideas? The Old Goat was old, obviously. At least 70, maybe 80 years old. Well, he didn’t know, so he had to guess. If he had to guess, then…

“83?”

Hibiki’s eyes narrowed.

“What makes you think that?”

“It was just a guess.”

“Why that age, though? What made you think of 83?”

Trash felt embarrassed, he had just grabbed at an idea and ran with it. He hoped it hadn’t been high and insulting to the Old goat. Well, there was no harm in explaining his guess anyway. It might even get him some points for thinking it through, at least.

“It was just a guess. You mentioned the traditional calendar, so I just thought about the Showa Emperor. If you were born in the first year of the reign of Showa, you would be… 83? Right?” He hoped that at least the math was correct, or he would look like an idiot.

“You are correct.”

That was a relief. His history teacher would be proud of him.

Wait.

“Correct as in…”

“I am indeed 83 years old. Just like you, I was born in the first year of the new Emperor’s reign.”

Frankly, Trash was flabbergasted. He never expected to be right with such a wild guess.

“Trash, you and I; we have far more in common than I think you can imagine. So I’d like to tell you my story if that’s okay.”

And with that, Hibiki told Trash the story of his youth.

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As I said, I was born in the first year of Showa, 1926.

The Horikoshi family was a small, but well off merchant clan living in Western Tokyo. I was the only child, and lived with my extended family in a large compound not too far from here.

I was a brash and arrogant child, and my family doted on me as I was the only heir. Especially my grandmother. She ensured I had anything I wanted, and was forgiven any transgression.

That said, I don’t think I was a bad child. Spoiled, maybe, but not evil. I would play pranks and even get caught for some petty things, like trying to steal a motorcycle when I was twelve. But I never hurt people, or took things because I was greedy or cruel. Just young, spoiled, and foolish.

My biggest failing, at least according to my family, was my poor taste in friends. You see, When I was quite young, around ten years old, I met the boy who would become my best friend.

My family had an import-export business. We had a lot of warehouses and many, many laborers who did all the hard work, like lifting and transporting goods.

We had a foreman who had been with us for many years. He was a Chosenjin, A native Korean, although back then, they were automatically granted Japanese citizenship as Korea had become part of the Japanese Empire.

He was in charge of managing all the other… I won’t use that other word again. I’ll just use Korean. He was in charge of the Korean laborers. Well, he had been in Japan for many years, and had even married a Japanese woman, although from a lower class. Even then, I am sure her family did not approve. They had a son, who was the same age as me.

His name was Tae-jang Park, but according to his papers, his name was Taizo Arai. I called him Tai. He was always around with his father, so it wasn’t long before we struck up a friendship.

Well, to be perfectly honest, I kind of bullied him a bit at first, but that quickly became boring, and I hated boring things, so instead, I drafted him to become my underling.

We got into so much trouble. Of course, Tai would be harshly punished every time we committed some crazy idea of mine, while I got off with a lecture from my father or my grandfather. Then my grandmother would intervene, and I’d get off scot-free.

Still, Tai was always loyal. He never blamed me for his trouble. He was never jealous of my wealth. I think you can understand what it’s like to have a truly loyal friend.

As we went through our teenage years, and even as the world seemed to get crazier and crazier, the adults lost themselves to fear and greed. We plotted our own plans to break free of the madness that seemed to surround us on all sides.

We decided that we were going to escape Japan. Go to Germany, then travel around Europe. Initially, Tai wasn’t interested in leaving his family. He had enjoyed the hijinks and plots that we came up with, but he had no concept of life outside of Tokyo. You know, he never learned to speak Korean properly and only knew how to swear, which he learned from the other laborers. That got him scolded by his mother constantly.

I eventually won him over, and we hatched a plan. I would forge some document on a shipment bound for Berlin and we would hide ourselves inside the crates. Then, we could break out and get jobs at the port as deckhands.

Yes, I realize that is a stupid, childish plan. I never said I was a smart kid, just a brave one.

Anyway, as we continued to plan, it slowly became apparent that it would not work. Still, Tai never doubted me. He would always say that he would follow me, no matter what. So, since he didn’t give up, neither did I. We were still talking about the great escape when the war came.

Tai was sent away to work in a factory outside of Tokyo. To be honest, I can’t imagine the kind of work they forced him to do. I’ve heard stories, and they always give me nightmares.

I, too, was drafted into the army. I was sent off to the South Pacific to fight off the Americans.

When the war ended, I was shocked when I got back. Tokyo had been devastated. My house, burned to the ground. My family, my father, my mother, my grandfather, all dead. All our warehouses were gone, and the workers had run away, or been killed, or taken to support some part of the war effort. I heard that Tai had died just as the war ended, killed when the Americans bombed the factory he was working in. Both of his parents had died during the firebombing of Tokyo.

I spent months, lost in despair. I had nothing, no family or friends, no job, no assets, nothing.

Then, one day, I felt a woman grab me on the street. It was my grandmother.

She had survived somehow. My grandfather had sent her out of Tokyo for some trumped-up reason, I am sure. When things got bad, before the fires, he sent her out to stay with her relatives in the countryside.

She still had access to a small amount of the family assets, and had rented a room in Tokyo, then set out to look for me. She had been wandering the streets every day for months.

When she found me, she was weak and sick. I stayed with her and took care of her as best I could. Still, she only lasted another half year. With the surrender, the occupation, the loss of our family, everything. She was a tremendously strong-willed woman, but she lost her will and, with the surrender, and her strength to go on. Once she found me, she had nothing left to tie her to this world.

The last thing she did was arrange for me to leave the country. She said that Japan was done for. She had connections in England, and while there was enmity against the Japanese around the world, she told me to find a way to earn forgiveness so that Japan could be redeemed. After she passed away, I took a ship and left Japan. I didn’t return for almost thirty years. When I did, it was to a country that I couldn’t even recognize.

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Trash looked at the stoic man. As he told the story, he showed no emotion at all.

It was a tremendous story to tell. His first thought was that this was the type of story that Pazu loved to collect. That he wanted to tell on his vlog.

In this day and age, there were fewer and fewer people left who could tell what happened during that time.

Still… There was something…

Since the first moment he had met this man, there had been these repeating themes.

The first theme was that Hibiki had shown him nothing but kindness. When he acted with disrespect, his lack of manners was ignored and answered with humor and tact. He was peeking into the man’s house, and instead of calling the police, he had treated his injuries and cared for him. This made him want to trust the man.

The second theme was the constant probing and testing. Every minute he was with this man, he felt like he was under a microscope. Every conversation seemed to be choreographed to elicit a certain response, that was then evaluated for some unknown purpose. For this reason, it was difficult to trust Hibiki.

The last thing was simply a feeling. He had no concrete evidence, but it was his gut reaction when this Old Goat spoke to him. Trash couldn’t say he had the best instincts in the world, but when he had a strong feeling, he usually followed it. He rarely regretted when he followed his gut, even if things didn’t go well, but as the last week was a perfect example of, when he did ignore those feelings, he always ended up regretting it.

His gut and all his instincts throughout his interactions with this strange man gave him an impression that was impossible for him to prove but one that he could not ignore.

This man was lying.

“Hibiki… Mister Hibiki…”

Hibiki raised his eyebrow.

“Would you mind if I ask a strange question?”

After a moment, the old man nodded slowly, then locked his eyes onto Trash so intently that he could feel the intensity.

If he got this wrong, who knows how Hibiki would react? What if he got angry…

Trash took a deep breath.

“Could it be… By any chance… Are you… Tai?”